One of the reasons why I never wore a ring or a nail polish is because I do not want to draw attention to my ugly man hands. I never really liked my hands.

I've got big knuckles, probably from the knuckle-popping which I am so fond of since fourth grade. I've got big veins that can give any nurse an orgasm, and it sure does make my hands look masculine. I've got wrinkly hands that look ten years older than I really am to which no amount of lotion or moisturizer can help.

Believe it or not, my childhood friend used to envy my thin and lovely fingers; she'd call it kandilaon. And perhaps you are wondering how did they get this way.

Right now, I am writing this blog 1076 kms from where I usually write while I try my very best to sum up my most relaxing vacay, yet. I love that we didn't have to wake up early in the morning and cram as many activities as we can to seize the day.

We have more than enough days to enjoy the island but I don't think I'm ready to leave just yet. Not when I know that a shitload of work is waiting for me.

I also worry my friends back home won't be able to recognize me anymore because I am ten times darker. But I would not have it any other way. I think I am born for the ocean. And if the kiss of the ocean breeze meant a sun-kissed skin, then the sun can have me anytime.

And down to the turtle's throat.

I remember the time when I attended one of my close friends' wedding, I was asked to hold one of the dozen balloons that was to be released into the sky. I shook my head frantically and blurted with some diffidence, "Dili ko. Environmentalist ko." (I won't. I'm an environmentalist)

A friend gave me a perplexed look as he walked away holding the balloon after being forced to volunteer.

I had an amazing long weekend at my favorite beach in Dahican. But laziness reared its ugly head in and, as usual, I didn’t take any interesting photos.

Well, except for this:

Dahican is love. No filter needed.

This Mati trip is just the first of my many beach getaways this 2018.

I know I've been yapping non-stop about Bill. Well, this is my blog and I will write whatever the hell I want to write since I don't have the nerve to speak elsewhere. You see, I've never posted about Bill on social media. Nobody else on my friends list, aside from a few close friends and those who have actually seen me, knows about Bill.

You see, in social media, everybody can inadvertently see what you have posted. But if you blog, nobody knows what you're up to until they visit and actually read your blog. Here, you enter at your own risk. If my stories get me loyal readers, great! I really appreciate that. If it loses me readers and rakes in haters, I'm not really concerned.

Today, I planned on writing a blog post where I tell the world how we had a pretty amazing out-of-town weekend but all that's going through my mind is Bill.

I think I'm obsessed. Not that I'm trying to learn about cars and how it works because I couldn't even get myself to read all the hundred pages of the manual. The word transmission already scares me, much more when introduced to alien words such fuel injection, ignition, or piston. All the mechanic's tips and instructions after the first Preventive Maintenance Schedule (PMS) just slipped through my mind because the brain stopped working the moment I saw the bill, realizing how expensive car maintenance is despite free labor.

Yesterday was our baby's string of many firsts.

First, we named our baby, Bill. I know Bill doesn't have anything to do with a car. Unlike others, I didn't name it after its color, it's performance, or whatever's under its hood. I could come up with Silver Bullet, Speed, Sasha (because it is grey haha), Lil Beasty, or even Sasuke because it almost sounds like the car brand. But I like Bill Parish from Meet Joe Black. It doesn't really have to have a significance and I don't need a reason to name it Bill. But Bill sounds good and that's good enough.

I know naming a car is not an uncommon practice. I think, if not all, almost every car owner does it and I think I know why. Mike Wazowski once said, "Once you name it, you start getting attached to it." Once you get attached to it, you take good care of it and I would like to believe that would make you a better driver.

I wasn't really a big fan of souvenirs. When Jan and I traveled far and wide, we didn't bring anything home with us but pictures and memories until our first trip in Boracay (emphasis on the word first because we're going back there soon and I hope I'm not jinxing it by prematurely announcing it. lol).

Fridge magnets were everywhere there and they were cheap (around Php 50). Which, I supposed, triggered that fridge magnet nut case in me when a thought occurred that a fridge magnet from every destination might be a good idea. So we bought 3 magnets (for Jan's home, for my parents' home, and our future home). And the rest, as they say, is history.

I didn't realize that it's already February until I saw quite a lot of bitter Valentine's posts on my newsfeed. LOL. Anyway, February na pala. In a few days Valentine's na naman. Sa mga nagbabalak magbigay sa akin ng gifts, wag nyo na po ako bigyan ng love dahil lunod na lunod na po ako. Hindi nyo din po kailangan na ipagdasal ako dahil kaya ko namang gawin yan para sa sarili ko. Your presence and thoughts do not really count dahil hindi po ako mabubusog nyan. If you really want something that counts, I might as well suggest these: