the perils of

      In Cagayan, I had always wanted to go to Manila during vacations. It was, for me, this beautiful place with an amazing cityscape, huge malls and insane theme parks, all that glitz and glamour. It was the City of Lights, and everything to me seemed so magical and wonderful (all this having been established as "fact" the first time I came to Manila; I was about three years old then).     But Manila is definitely NOT all that glamour and glitz. Living in Katipunan (and now, seventeen years old) has made me realize that things aren't as flashy as my three-year-old self had imagined them to be. Katipunan may come across as a fancy shmancy destination to go eat, unwind, and have fun (*ahem* Cantina *ahem*), but it can also be very UN-glamorous: the unbearable heat, the insufferable filth, the risk of getting stolen from, or the dangers, as my Kagay-anon relatives and friends are always warning me about, of indiscreetly being slipped a roofe...

Here I am, in my dorm. On my bed. With my laptop. Writing a blog when I should be doing Problem Set 2 for Chemistry... But I can't. Just can't. You see, my heart is breaking again. I just miss home so much. My flight from Cagayan de Oro to here in Manila was this morning, at 6:15. Opening the gates of my house, I saw through the leaves of the mango tree in our yard the 5 o'clock sky: dark blue, gloomy, but with traces of sunlight peeking out from behind Sa-ku's house. It was almost the exact same sky I was looking at when I left home in the first place on June 6. Oh, I remember the car ride to the airport on that day. On June 6, I mean. My world was falling apart in the back seat of  the family Vios. Mom and dad were up front, and I was just quietly drinking in all the Cagayan buildings and scenery, as I knew that I would not be seeing them in a long while. I felt like I was going to a place of no return, full of despair and darkness. I felt like I was going...

I guess I shouldn't mope so much. I don't want you , the beautiful and handsome members of my family, thinking that I'm having such a sucky time here in the Big M. I can just imagine how your mealtime conversations would take place: Dad: Ahh, look what Achi said on her latest blog post. She's miserable. Cait: Good. Jiggy: WHAT! Diiiich! You think it's GOOD for Achi to be MISERABLE? You're horrible ! Cait: No need to shout Jigs! Jiggy: Ha? Cait: No need to shout Jigs. Jiggy: What? Cait: NOOOO! NEEEED! TOOOO! SHOUT! JIIIIIIIGS! Jiggy: Ohhh Dichi! No need to shout! (To all those non-family readers [if there are any] I should probably have clarified this sooner: I am Achi, and Caitlin is Dichi. At least to Jiggy, she is.) So, dearest family members of mine, I'm fine. Homesick and sad, but otherwise, alive and in one piece. Actually, I'm a lot luckier than the rest of my promdi batchmates, because I'm coming home this July. Only 24 more days to go until m...

Two months left 'til I move to Manila. Sometimes I can get pretty excited about moving to the Philippines' version of New York. All the amazing people I'll meet, all the fun, college-y stuff I'll get to do... Thinking about those things makes me look forward to making the big move. Or, should I say, the Big Move. But then, when I think about my family and my beautiful home here, the Big Move sounds really scary and bad. (scary and bad - I have a limited vocabulary and I know it.) I start thinking about all the family moments I'm going to miss, all the inside jokes I'm going to be left out on, and simply, all the comfort and warmth and strength I draw from my family that I won't be able to have so far away from them. I guess I'm homesick - and I haven't even left yet.