Past Life

I forgot what my blog niche is. Then again, I can’t remember ever defining a particular niche anyway. I already mentioned in my about page once or twice that my domain name does not equate to the content of this blog. So no, you’re not going to find any guitar tabs, chords, or guitar how-to’s, here. I guess that’s pretty obvious. Haha.

Anyway, I heard someone say that one good way of knowing your blog’s niche is to look at keyword referrals, so I did, and I found out interesting things about my blog that I wasn’t aware of. Apparently, I’ve been getting a lot of hits from that post I made about Michael Scofield back when he was still the love of my life (sorry Mike, not anymore, and no, I’m not drooling over your pictures and making them my desktop’s wallpaper. NO. I mean, really.)

Oh, and I’m getting hits not just from the keyword “Michael Scofield” but, more specifically, from the keyword phrase “Michael Scofield gay“. Much thanks to Joni, who just happened to have mentioned the word “gay” in her comment on that post. I still refuse to think that he’s gay though. But okay, that’s beside the point.

It took me a while before I finally got to sit down and finish the last two episodes of Prison Break Season 2, because I was busy, and because I was experiencing withdrawal syndrome (something about missing my Dad because we used to watch PB together when he was still alive, and now, he never got the chance to know whatever happened to Michael amd Linc). But okay, that’s beside the point too. Haha.

The point is, I was trying to define what my blog niche is, and coincidentally, just the other day, I finally finished watching Prison Break’s Season 2 finale. Hay. Season 3 coming right up.

IMHO, they should have ended it right there at Season 2’s ending — the three of them, Michael Scofield, Linc Burrows, and Sarah Tancredi, sailing away to sunset, happily ever after amen. You know, they could have just given Wentworth Miller’s character a much deserved rest. I mean, come on, they made him break rules and prisons all year round, it’s tiring! Seasons 1 and 2 alone already made Prison Break a classic. They should’ve ended it right there and then and prevent further damage (LOL). I mean, seriously, I can’t quite imagine how Michael is going to pull off another breakout and still be all human, without looking like some superhero with a cape.

Oh well, whatcanisay, the business is earning, I can’t blame them if they want to extend it some more. Season 3 has just begun, and I heard they’re already cooking Season 4 up.

Anyway, the real point is (haha), here’s more Michael Scofield keywords for this blog. Only because he’s bald and I now have a thing for bald guys, and because he’s given this site a relevant amount of traffic. That’s all.

I’m over you, Michael Scofield. Consider this my break-up speech. Good luck on breaking prisons. :P

Well, not really. A lot of my things are still out, and I still don’t know how to jam them all in these moving boxes.

After almost two years of staying under the same roof, we’re parting from some of our (soon-to-be-former) housemates and leaving this place we once called “home”. But it’s all good. Change is good, after all. And it’s not like I won’t be seeing Normi and Jen anymore. I’d still be staying with Aster anyway, and Ivy, a friend from way-back-diaper-days, will be joining us too. Plus we found the perfect apartment also, after a whole month of trying to look for one. It’ll be fun. And I’m excited and nostalgic and uhm, sleepy (right). But it’s all good. :)

So hey, I’m in the middle of a pile of clothes and boxes and shoes and dirty laundry right now, taking a break from all the packing, and trying my best to capture the moment and how it feels.

(Note worthy: This post is not brought to you by Tortillos or Merell.)

Now is the time to feel stressed, and to think of a nice long bath, but there’s still a lot to do. However, on top of the adrenalin rush, I can sense this teeny weeny bit of nostalgia in the air — which I think is inevitable, especially if you’re leaving a place you’ve spent some of the best months of your life in, and you’d most likely never set foot in that place again.

I mean, how can I forget all those nights I entered that door to find sanctuary in the four corners of this room after a long day at work?

Or that bulletin board that once was a collage of bills, and photos, and notes, and star-shaped pushpins?

And how can I forget that view from my favorite spot in the veranda — the same view where I last saw my Dad’s smile, (and the same place where I last felt your arms around me)?

Hay. Priceless moments in this place. I shall always remember.

I would have taken more pictures, but my mess awaits. This nagging voice inside my head keeps on reminding me that I’m no longer a little girl, and there’s no more yaya to pack my things and do the tasks that are supposed to be mine. Gah. It’s tiring to be an adult.

Tomorrow, we’ll be leaving this apartment, and will start filling a new one with new memories.

And it’s really not that big of a deal for me to be blogging about it.

Except that it once again made me think about how time flies so fast, and that life involves a lot of moving on.