Memoirs of an Amnesiac

For some love is like a train ride. If you don't take it, you'll probably have to wait for the next trip. Still others have been unluckily made to believe (like a robot that's been programmed to do the same things over and over again until it breaks down) that like a train ride, once it's missed, it will be totally difficult to get another ride.

I thought I knew love in Grade Six when I had a huge crush on a classmate who made a funny remark that will forever leave an impression on ...

I'd like to speak in behalf of the Eve populace (if I may be so frank and blunt about this) that the single most baffling thing about us is this option paralysis: given a host of alternatives, we are most likely unable to take one--especially when we are faced with the dilemma on what to wear each time we go out.

My guilt devours me each time as when a date texts that he is already in the tryst that we had agreed on while I was still caught up in my wardrobe, totally bemused about ...

/Photo courtesy of Google.com

My first attempt at drawing hands came with a rather shady impression. At that time I thought if I'd get to even form decent-looking hands, I'd be able to impress that high school crush who liked looking at paintings of hands. After mustering the courage to show him what appeared to me were Da Vinci's Sistine Chapel rendition of the creation, ...

Before there were iPods, iPads, Dx, and what-have-you technologies children these days were so carefully enamored swiping their lazy fingers around, there was kite flying.

Summer times in my youth were always spent outdoors. Back then, the climate had not gone haywire. You could clearly spell the difference between a drizzle and a downpour. Now, you'd go insane trying to estimate the capricious climate. At about 3pm onward, our little barrio turns into a festival of kites of different ...