perfect starry nights. sweet dreams. moon beams. a love that's warm. and bright.

My email address is brdbrain8, created in June 2002.

Because B, R, and D were all I could ever think about. My brain is all for B, R, and D.

Later, brain8 will also stand for B(2), R(2), A, I, and N. Plus 8 other names.

These letters represent most of my crushes. Ang cool, noh?

I will tell you about B.

B is actually Brandon Boyd. In 1997, when Incubus was but an obscure band, I heard Anti-Gravity over at the only radio station I knew at the time, NU107. Then I knew they'd be playing a major role in my life. I blame Drive (though I absolutely adore that song) for their selling-out (I had issues with selling out when I was young; I didn't like to share my music) and for a time, after Drive's EP debut, I hated the thought of girls liking Incubus, which will ultimately lead to them liking Brandon Boyd.

Alas, my love for their music cannot be quenched when I suddenly found myself 'joining the bandwagon' of screaming fangirls. I hated being uso, but what can I do, with all my fifteen years, I really loved Brandon Boyd. So for the record, I wasn't into the fad, just so we're clear on that.

I became so obsessed with wanting to be Mrs. Boyd that I carried the name to college, where I suppose I can be whoever I want to be. Hehehe. I followed the band's success stories and even watched Morning View Session over and over (I wonder where my CD went) until I could draw Brandon's tattoo in his right arm, which I successfully did. I took that with me all the time in freshmen year to inspire me. I even wanted to have the artwork on my arm, sira na talaga ulo ko.

I cried when other girls pledged their love for him because I knew they liked B for superficial reasons. It's so frustrating when I can't even discuss his poetry with all the other fangirls. Oh well. I even almost had a copy of White Fluffy Clouds but my cousin forgot to buy it when he was in the States.

Today, I forget all the details I had on B, except his birthday, which I celebrate until now. All the hours spent on drooling over B is but kept away in a little drawer in my memory. I sometimes think I have outgrown him. Sometimes, I do not want to think about his band and label them most negatively only because others found out about them.

They were in the Philippines almost five years ago; I would have seen them if it weren't for NSTP. It's a long tragic story. On the Saturday after their concert, I went to (then) Westin Philippine Plaza to follow their footsteps and I cried. My parents thought I was crazy. Maybe I was. Then I gave up on liking them altogether because I was an epic failure as a fan.

Why am I writing about it now? Anti-Gravity was also called Summer Romance. It's that season again when my little drawers go a-flutter so I can get a glimpse of how it was summers past.

Aaaand I just feel like telling you about B. Then I'd go on with R and D. Teehee.

I mean that in two ways.

One, I will write a book/ many books.
Two, they will be new and different.

A novel about me and Piolo Pascual. Purely fiction. STARSTRUCK.
A manual on staying fashionable without causing anyone to stumble. I will call it FASHION AND PURITY.
A collection of heart-breaking wedding tales. I will call it SOMETHING BLUE. (Haha, Alex and Alice get royalties for this)

Do I get copyright just by saying these publicly?

I CALL DIBS!
-Xaris, December 14, 2008.

***
You know how Beyonce's alter ego is named Sasha Fierce?

I'm adopting the principle. Call me Villainy Weirder.

Hello, my name is Villainy Weirder. These are/ This is my story/ies.

I dreamed about my ex-crush last night. Don't bother figuring out who it is; you have six million names to choose from. He came to visit my house and surprised me and my super friends with tickets to fly to Singapore. Haha. Everyone's headed there, I guess. Anyhoo, miracle of all miracles, I had my passport (dream sequence) ready and my picture wasn't too bad. Like any dreams should go, we were in Singapore in one blink and on the next we were on a bus to Hong Kong. Even dreams can prove how geographically-challenged I am.

When we got off the bus, we were welcomed by Mickey and Minnie and the whole HK Disneyland theme park attendants. Next thing I knew, I was holding cotton candy in my hand and wearing my Diliman Prep shirt. Suddenly, the evil girl friend of my ex crush came to the picture and laughed at my choice of clothing. I mocked her and found that nobody was laughing with me. Everyone of my super friends were embarrassed by my shirt.

Lessons:
1. Evil girlfriends of ex-crushes are evil even in dreams.
2. My subconscious is telling me to get a bus to go to "the happiest place on earth."
3. Dear girl, someday you will get your passport with a pretty picture.
4. Get a globe or a map of Asia. Learn it.
5. Sever all Diliman Prep ties; they bring awful things. Except amorsolo of course, they're the only ones who made it worthwhile.

Out of impulse and a recurring vision that I'm starting to be 'gusot' [beats me where my grandmother got the term], I went to visit the salon after office. The last time I got a hair cut was in 2006 when I had my locks chopped to be donated to the Guimaras oil-spill. There are no oil spills to speak of today, but hey, sometimes style is enough reason for a make-over.

Before the stylist snipped off my hair, she took care of a butch-looking [i'm sorry for being politically incorrect, i don't have any terms] person who, after the session, looked much like a man. When it was my turn, the hairdresser expertly cut and 'texturized' my wavy hair into a short do which resembles an emo balara boy's. I had no qualms because that's exactly how I wanted it. As soon as she was done styling my hair, she said, "Ayan, mukha ka ng lalaki." I giggled and said, "Hindi naman po 'yon ang gusto kong ma-achieve, pero salamat." I lfet her a hefty tip. I like my hair now, even if I looked like a boy in it.

Later, I found myself reserving [and getting] a pink pair of oakley shades. I bullied my father to getting it for me but then I decided to pay for it myself [eep, i know] and whoa, oakley glasses [this one's orig] don't come cheap. I don't hafta disclose the price as I might decide to resell it later when I'm broke but these pink shades definitely give new meaning to 'looking at the world through rose-colored glasses.' I likey.

There are a few things I'd like to add to my list of dream jobs. Something about commuting and inhaling manila pollution inspires the idle mind to come up with brilliant ideas. Right.

NUMERO CINCO:
Vow Writer. Weddings hold a special place in my heart no matter how much I deny it. I think it's important that when two people commit to spend their lives together in front of God and the whole congregation, they do it in style. Sincerity is key but to do it with flair, romantic words and proper enunciation [!] adds a little extra.

Job Description:
1. Gets soon-to-weds' ideas and feelings about each other.
2. Translates the sentiments into an award-winning composition.
3. Rehearses the speech with clients until they pronounce each word correctly with the proper tone.
4. Makes the clients feel that these words really came from them.

NUMERO SAIS:
Image Generator. The world is an unfair place. People judge you within five seconds of meeting you. You judge people in the same length of time.

Job Description:
1. Consults client of the type of person they would want to impress.
2. Encourages client to add flair to their otherwise boring existence.
3. Generally produces a positive vibe all around for a feel-good aura. How can anyone not want to be around you then?

NUMERO SYETE:
Mean Girl/ Super Villain. It's a nice thing to help friends out and save them from being horrible. Yes friends, I can handle the job.

Job Description:
1. Lashes insults randomly.
2. Makes mean comments about everything nice.
3. Bashes lame people for no apparent reason.

NUMERO OTSO:
Do Gooder. No, it's not good doer. I like Do Gooder better. The exact opposite of a super villain. Don't worry, I can manage, I've MPD.

Job Description:
1. Helps client to do good things to help another friend.
2. Makes lists of things that can inspire client to become nicer.
3. Offers client to take the load off by accomplishing the good things herself.
4. Shares a lot of love and goodwill.

NUMERO NUEVE:
Safety Pin. There's no particular description for this. I just think it would be nice to say, "Hello, my name is Xaris, I'm a safety pin."

NUMERO DIYES: Mrs. Piolo Pascual. Like I need a reason for this.

Now is one of those not-so-rare times that I want a career revamp. Something tells me that the job i want has not yet been invented but thanks to imagination, I have made a list of jobs I wouldn't mind doing and getting paid for.

DREAM JOB NUMERO UNO:
Happiness Consultant. What with all the emo-ness going on, everyone needs a little cheering up. Sometimes all it takes is another person telling you what to do before you decide to end your angst-ridden life.

Job Description:
1. Listens to client's troubles and absorbs all the client's pain and sadness.
2. Allows client to wallow for some time.
3. Makes a list of endorphine-releasing activities to pump up the happy mode.
4. Makes sure that client follows through with happy activities.

DREAM JOB NUMERO DOS:
Resume Mocker. It's a known fact that some people find it difficult to stay in a job and thus do a bit of exploring while they are young. One vital key to consider in job-hopping is to submit an impressive resume.

Job Description:
1. Collects resumes or CVs from random people.
2. Laughs at hideous pictures [i.e. cropped beach pictures, glamor studio shots].
3. Corrects poor grammar and parallelism in entries.
4. Makes notes on what NOT to include in a resume. This is not a friendster profile, oi.
5. Suggests use of pink and scented stationeries "to give it a little extra." Or not.

DREAM JOB NUMERO TRES:
Dictionary Writer. So it's not exactly a new job but I want my own language. Pfft.

Job Description:
1. Subscribes to the xaris' non-rules for impeccable grammar.
2. Creates new word forms and uses it in daily conversation.
3. Incorporates the new words in daily life and convinces everyone that they are stupid for not knowing what the word means.
4. Encourages misuse of proper english but laughs inwardly at those gullible enough to take it seriously.

DREAM JOB NUMERO QUATRO:
Career Reconsiderator. Someone who tells you to move into a new job by listing traits and abilities you never knew you had until consultation.

1. Adheres to the xaris' dictionary to get away with the title 'reconsiderator.' [in case you didn't know, there is no such word]
2. Sits down with a client to extract secret dream jobs.
3. Encourages client to chase a dream if [and only if] client is confident to brave the odds.
4. If client does not respond, CR dismisses the case and asks for free coffee instead.

*All JOBS include free stalking services to help client impress future colleagues, bosses, or love potentials.
*Batteries included. Each sold separately.

Dear Joe,

Before I completely turn psycho, let me just share this situation. There is something bothering me about a friend. I think I might be falling for him. He's been very nice to me and I'd like to believe he has feelings for me as well. We are good friends and I don't want to jump the gun and ask him directly. If he says he likes me that way, I'm afraid of what's going to happen if we don't turn out well as more than friends. If he says no, I don't think I'd ever live it down. I try my best to make him feel that I do like him, to make things easier for him. He's not taking the hint it seems, so I really have to wonder why he's being specially extra nice to me. I resolve to just stand by him no matter what and maybe he'll see that I'm the one. And now, he acts all interested one minute and ignoring me the next. What should I do?

Sincerely,
Someone Like You

Dear Someone Like You:

This is Xaris, stepping in for Joe in the meantime. Go grab a rope, tie it around your neck and pull.  Write back and tell me all about it, okay? Toodles!

All the best,
x)

...exactly why nobody comes to me for advice.

Begin the new year countdown with a family dinner and talk about anything while exchanging jokes. Shift topic to serious business and refrain from cracking silly lines lest the dinner scene look like something straight out of a sitcom. When the clock strikes eleven, start piling up Bulacan merchandise and check out which ones light the sky best. Make an inventory of the nicest fireworks display to get for next year. Stare in awe at the pyro light show while covering your mouth and nose unless you want black snot. Start the countdown and toast to a good year.

Proceed with the poker game that your baby brother is winning and bore yourself to tears with checks, folds and raises because you are too pathetic to learn the game by heart. Decide that it's time to take your newly acquired High School Musical 2 DVD [the one you elbowed your kuya to get] to the test and burn the midnight oil watching clips with Zac Efron on it. Smile like a grade schooler when you see how much footages the DVD has of him. Swoon and wipe the laway away.

Put on a Friends marathon after seeing all possible antics Zac could have made and convince yourself that it is time to grow up. Down the half-filled beer glass you put off while watching HSM2 and start enjoying the marathon. Love Joey, Chandler, Ross, Rachel, Monica and Phoebe more.

Realize it's almost five in the morning and have your cousins drive you home. Sleep in heavenly peace. Thank God from whom all blessings flow.

Wake up at ten am to a sleeping household and cringe at the state your room is in. Find your way to the door and wonder where your floor went. Take up the courage to get a broom and finally sort out bags and shoes, clothes, kikay stuff, scarves and all kinds of trash into a neat pile. When you can finally determine the patterns of your floor tile, add finishing touches and put the things neatly away.

Plan a rendezvous with your college dorm mate and call the mall to see if they're open. Bring your coffee-stained HP7 and present it to her as a gift. Wait a while before she gets to the meeting place and check out the toy store in the meantime. Get yourself that planner you've been meaning to have and take a long time agonizing between the purple fluff, the purple denim or the black sparkly leather. Choose the purple fluff and admire your new planner.

Grab coffee at the Green Lady and talk for hours when your much-missed dorm mate comes. Walk, talk and have a bookstore visit. Stay at the store for a long time and read through titles. Buy a cosmo publication because that's all the material you can handle at this point. Wonder why you always end up buying a short novel from summit after hanging out in a bookstore.

Head home and pester her to take you to Baguio with her. Pretend-mope and watch her roll her eyes.

Get online as soon as you land home and have your cyber buddies fill you in on yet another grammar nazi mission. Succeed at the nazi-ing. Contain strong disdain toward neighbors who decide this is the best time to make firecracker noises and set off car alarms. Scream through the window and tell them to get a life when you can't control your temper. Have people at the house pacify you and tell you that you had better stop calling your neighbors stupid. It is the new year after all.

Have a great 2008 one and all! Here's hoping that you started off the year nicely. Toodles

You know Christmas is coming near when the local radio stations blare all-too familiar holiday songs as early as September. Only a week before the day and be sure to have LSS's with merry, bells, yuletide, seasons, snow, manger in the lyrics.

Christmas songs are my all time favorite treat this season aside from well, holiday ham and noche buena. It gives me an instant high when I hear songs about the holidays done in charming ways. Yes, there are charming ways.

I am also amused by the not-so charming carol situations when kids would ring our doorbell as if we did not hear it the first time and scream the lyrics of traditional Pinoy carols. Always without fail, their lyrics would all be screwed and end with a flourishing we wis you a merry krismas and a hapi new year namamasko po, done in one breath.

I tell my parents never to give them money until Christmas eve and Christmas day so they won't keep coming back. They always come back, though. And even if they don't, I can hear their carols a mile away with their high pitched rendition of dyingle bells.

As a kid, I never went around the neighborhood to wow them with my singing prowess and correct lyrics. If I had, I think I'd be a superstar by now. Harhar.

When I was in Baguio, I looked forward to the ber months because then I get the license to sing ang pasko ay sumapit at random moments. I did not join any singing groups when I was in school and I guess I felt bad about not being able to sing Christmas Carols- the thing I hearts so much- with a group to a larger group. Good thing my Breha floor mates never shut me up when I sing down the halls. Even during siesta and silence hours.

My favorite Christmas songs include Let it Snow [for the memory-value attached to it], Christmas Song [because I never get to sing it], Even Santa Fell in Love [I'm cheesy like that], Ang Pasko ay Sumapit [hindi ko pa rin memorize to], and Joy to the World [one of the hymns I enjoy singing]. I can name a few more but I'm too lazy to recall.

There are no carolers tonight where I am. Maybe I'll shake my coin purse and sing to myself. That definitely beats counting all the light bulbs in sight. Happy Caroling peephole! :D

hello. i spilled coffee on my chin, blouse and office table because i sipped from the wrong end of the cup. good thing it wasn't hawt or i'd have pretty much damaged more than my stuff. oops. i dropped something. my brain.

speaking of brain [in]activities, i had another full-moon-ia /fulmonya/ episode last week when i filed a resignation because i felt like i wanted to try something else without really exactly knowing what that something else was. i said i'd go pursue my foiled radio star plans while freelance writing for all the prettiest glossies in town. i said i thought about it well when all i really did was practice my imaginary would-be-editor interview on the way to the office.

to channel my inner[?] okrayera and grammar nazi inclinations, i decided to one day be a miranda priestly. but first i must become an andy sachs. minus the icky threads she used to wear. i like imagining myself running around in trendy clothes lugging paper bags and balancing a tray of starbucks coffee while cradling my super techy communicator for a voice call... oh wait. i do that for fun.

but i'd like to see myself more like the prada-wearing devil i'm cut out to be [bwahahaha] but on a nicer scale. i'd like to think i don't have pitch forks and a tail although most people would disagree. i don't understand where they get the idea. tchhh.

and since the full moon waned, i'm back to normal, loving every minute of the spilled coffee on my desk. because it means i still have a desk and i still have a job.

and this time i wasn't imagining it. the full moon really was pink.

i don't care if it's just some atmospheric disturbance like infrared going berserk bouncing off pretentious lights. i don't care too if it's the after effect of tequila sunrise paired with bowls of mongolian. and i wouldn't care less if it's my head playing tricks on me again.

i don't know how it happened but the moon i saw was pink. with a big ring of white stuff around it. and it was one of the prettiest and most memorable full moon i've ever seen.

too bad i wasn't able to share it with anyone except for our crazy dog-killing driver.

"masarap talagang mag-nescafe kapag umuulan"- kim chu
"i prefer starbucks" -inday

there is nothing going on in my life today. nothing out of the ordinary, anyway. so i think i'm going to stir the doldrum that is my being and create a whirlpool of non-issues and inanities.

to start off, lemme just say that donning a uniform everyday is curtailing my sensibilities and creative juices. and so i give props to the inventors of accessories, scarves and coats. thanks to them i can dress my uniform up and still look decent. a challenge, i must say. hahaha. and oh, green is the new black. learn it, live it, love it.

and haha, because i can't go wrong in a uniform [??], i know better to castigate major fashion faux pas i encounter daily.

dress code disaster number one: print on print. now, there are some people who can pull this off so if you are not one of them, please spare the trial and error and save yourself a little dignity. polkadots [large, obvious ones] don't go too well with equally bold and bright stripes. if your stripes are teensy weensy to the extent of using a microscope to see the print, then go ahead wear it with other prints. as long as, of course, they have the same tone or hue as the other.

dress code disaster number two: bandannas. it's perfectly fine to put on bandannas, definitely adds color and style. but bandannas tied around your head to make you look like naruto is a bit off. reminds me of dao ming su in meteor garden... in 2003! clearly, the look worked well for him [but it was tacky nonetheless] but he was gwapo so he got away with it. but you, you're not.

dress code disaster number three: me in a uniform.

dress code disaster number four: clothes that make you say, "eep! what is that hideous thing?" especially when it comes from a designer label. you see, nice clothes don't have to cost much. just because it says [insert designer's name here] means you have to grab it since you can afford it. it's a formula for disaster.

that didn't cheer me up. i'm still boring myself to death! rawr.

in other news, as i was crossing the street yesterday, a motorbike which came from nowhere, cut where i was walking. and like any sane, decent person would do, i growled at the biker. as in catlike, rawr with my right hand poised like a furious feline about to strike. yep. my definition of normal exactly.

oh incoherence! i know thee well!

i was thinking of an adjective that would best describe me. the challenge is to come up with a word that starts with the same letter as my name. duh. [this was the GTKY thing jeri used for his class] not only can i not  find an adjective that starts with the letter x, i also cannot find any adjective that goes with xaris. i do declare, xaris is a stand alone noun. it cannot be described by any other word. its essence cannot be encapsulated! ahahaha. not even a lexicon master can begin to describe xaris.

holler like a banshee and raise your left foot if you agree.
awe yeah.