January, Nostalgia

I should start off by saying that this is not a book review.

Somehow, I find myself taking more random shots during winter. It could be because of the light, or because of the cold, that won't let me be anywhere else but inside. 

As much as I want to sound introspective, I just realized it’s because Ryo and I replaced the torn 障子 paper with raw canvas. Each panel had a different weight, hence the softer, warmer light.

Here, my mother's (wool?) scarf hangs as our bedroom wall art. She bought it in Paris about a year after I was born. I still wear it sometimes, but I worry that if I misplace it, it will only mean I own less of what I was able to save from the flood. A couple of my mother-in-law’s aluminum laundry clips hold up my mom’s scarf at the mume-鴨居, because how would that even work for a 鴨居 hook?

The old library lamp with a wonky lever belonged to Ryo's late father. I remember it being broken, and no one was trying to fix it, like many things in the house while we were all still in mourning. One day, I called Ryo when he was at the hardware store, and that was how the rule for using the big light only during nighttime was born. We use it if we need something from the closet, since we're not bats after all. 

I was able to buy a copy of The Three-Cornered Sun from Fullybooked BGC days before we left for Tokyo. I remember asking for the plastic-wrapping service, and the staff riffled through the page while they were oblivious that I was watching them from the counter.

This is the second book I bought published by Exploding Galaxies. 

Many years ago, while I was living in San Lorenzo, I would often visit the Ayala Museum to use it as my secret study area. I had a roommate who didn’t want to share her interior design reviewers, so I decided to let the closest museum school me instead. It’s almost the perfect place to study, but there are no tables. The important thing is that it had air conditioning and that I could read my photocopied reviewers in peace. And believe that somehow, reading literature on an iPod touch would help.

Being a museum member meant I could use the library, but I found it too cold to concentrate. I had a crush on one of the staff who was managing the seminars back then (wherever you are now, I thank you for making my museum visits consistent, making my studies a bit more focused, thus helping me pass the board exam. I wish you the best, curly-haired boy.) 

It was 2011 when I spotted Heima’s postcard in the Ayala Museum lobby. It stood out in its quirky-hipster,  cloyingly sweet visual. High bar stools with legs painted in bright red with the seat upholstered in a “roses and bows” blue Cath Kidston fabric. I worked in Heima after finding the said postcard. Less than a year later, I made myself absent after a traumatizing food poisoning, most probably caused by the furniture store/cafe serving Russian tea cookies on the same floor. And so I found myself going back to the museum after nursing myself to study for the upcoming board exams.

I must have visited a couple of days a week and chanced upon a star-speckled copy of The Manila Review. It was not like the other magazines in white with neon green and bright pink accents. It was black and white. The font used serif. It was huge. It reminded me of the A3-sized drawings that we had to do in class. Only this one was in portrait. I was able to get another issue after that, which I sent to my father all the way to Midsayap, Cotabato.

I took the exams. I passed. My early 20s went on. In 2013, I attended one of Heima’s Design Discussions, along with other creatives, were the founders of The Manila Review.

I lightly misjudged in choosing to read Nolledo's But For The Lovers for my flight back to Tokyo, it almost had me screaming while waking from a nap. I always hope that a book would calm me as it did in my 20s. However, that book is not for calm and relaxation; it is meant to be indulged in the shortest amount of time possible.

I'm glad to say that I enjoyed Ty-Casper's work, and it is okay to read while on a flight and even before bed.

It's just been a couple of weeks since the holidays, hence the use of incense to change the smell of the winter air in the room. My sister-in-law gave us a variety of incense sticks from when she visited Kyoto and I find myself enjoying the Amber series of the 百楽香 詰め合わせ. It's now something I look forward to every night. Do we have a spare incense holder in this house? Most likely. But I decided to use the plate that my husband's highschool friends gave us. Are we supposed to just display the plate that has the year when we got married? What then? And a lighter that probably belonged to Ryo's brother when he smoked.

I feel I'll be gambling too much if I decide to place these in our library outside. 

Will the other readers peel off my notes? I used index cards since it helps me follow a novel better. Deciding to reread Nolledo's work was a good choice, making me feel like a student again.

Now I wonder what they'll publish next.

Will I get to finish renovating my office this year? Living in an old house does mean you have more space but the insulation can make one think otherwise. I mean, if I do finish the renovation that means I can assemble the other LEGO bouquet.