The Oatmeal got me right on that one. I’ve never paid for an app on my iPhone, even if I’d paid for a lot of other crazy things in my life. That’s why I’m on the fence about getting an iPad; first of all, I don’t know how I’m supposed to recoup my investment because an iPad is going to be just play and no work for me. Secondly, all the cool apps are paid. Sucks that way.

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This photo was taken more than a year ago, at my pole dancing class recital at the Rockwell Tent. It was the only time I did pole dancing in public; had you told me two years ago that I was going to slip in gold Bond girl hot pants and strap a toy gun to my thigh, I would’ve laughed you out of the room. My friends once called me Prudence McPrude, but I’ve outgrown that girl.

At the same time, I don’t know exactly how different I am now from that gold-clad girl with big, wavy hair and an air of mystery around her. As I write this, I’m sitting at my desk, a tumbler of tea beside me. I’m waiting for the clock to hit five so I can go to the gym, sneak in a quick workout and head back to work again. It’s going to be another long night of copyediting and checking pages in a cold office, so I decided to be practical and wear jeans, a white shirt, and a gray cardigan. I used to never wear jeans, but I wear them *gasp* once a week now. (But that’s all I’ll allow myself).

I’m a lot more practical than I was say, three years ago. Most of my clothes are stylishly neutral (or so the fashion pages say), although I still wear a lot of cotton candy pink. Yesterday, my pole dancing instructor called me up to demand to know the reason why I hadn’t been showing up for months. I tell people who want to know why I stopped that the studio is far, that the classes end too late, and that I’ve been putting in a lot of late hours at work, but aside from that, it’s because I don’t know if being associated with pole dancing is a good thing for me.

Of course it isn’t a problem now, but how about when I go to graduate school? How do I explain that pole dancing is just a form of exercise to people who don’t know me at all, and just see me as a girl from an Asian country? Will the people at Columbia still take me seriously? What if it counts against me in a future job, in a city that’s not as small and familiar as Manila? In a world that sees Filipinos as domestic helpers, exotic dancers and contract workers, it’s hard to be yourself sometimes.

All these practical thoughts suddenly evaporate when I wistfully listen to my friends talk about the new tricks they learned in dance class. Then I think back to that time when I gleefully swung around a pole, applauded by friends and strangers, confident about myself and the world.

So today is September 1, and I’m unfortunately still in Manila—which means that I missed the Hogwarts Express on Platform 9¾. And man, what I wouldn’t give to be able to have a Hogwarts to escape to. I like my life, but sometimes, everything screws up at the same time for no inconceivable reason whatsoever.

Today was a tough day. I got out of it with a headache from copyediting plus a few extra bruises, a scraped knee, a hurt ego and an upwelling of resentment against my mom after I fell down a set of stairs (I just don’t want to go into detail any longer, because I finally figured out there’s no winning an argument against a mother until you’re old and gray yourself). I’ve had a lot of tougher days, but today, a few sharp words from The Mother and some minor physical injuries were enough to push me over the edge. On the way home, in the middle of a darkened car, I started to cry.

In Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Remus Lupin defined a dementor as this: “Dementors are among the foulest creatures that walk this earth. They infest the darkest, filthiest places, they glory in decay and despair, they drain peace, hope, and happiness out of the air around them. Even Muggles feel their presence, though they can’t see them. Get too near a Dementor and every good feeling, every happy memory will be sucked out of you. If it can, the Dementor will feed on you long enough to reduce you to something like itself…soul-less and evil. You will be left with nothing but the worst experiences of your life.”

Maybe dementors are real. There’s no conceivable reason for feeling so down over a scraped knee and a few sharp words. Maybe dementors aren’t always the scary, ragged-looking things we think they could be. Dementors could be everyday people—the people you know and love, but who, for some reason, turn on you just when you need them most.

Not my lola, but you get the idea.

While hanging out at Adarna Food and Culture a couple of weeks ago (one of the best Filipino restaurants in the city, by the way), a slambook encased in glass caught my attention. Amused by my reaction at the musty old pages, Chef Giney Villar explained, “Slambooks were your lola’s Facebook.”

Well, I’m old enough to have gone through a couple of slambooks/ autograph books in grade school. I remember obsessively reading the pages that my longtime crush filled out on my sister’s autograph book—unlike most guys, he actually filled it out in great detail despite not knowing who owned it (the dedication started with “Dear whoever you are.”) It was because of that The Little Mermaid autograph book that I knew his address, favorite food, favorite color, most embarrassing moments… ehem. Where was I?

Anyway, I eventually lost it because—I firmly still believe—a classmate of mine who also liked him stole it.

And no, he’s not on Facebook. Last time I saw him was on Friendster several eons ago, and even then, I realized he was no longer the disarmingly cute boy I had an on-off crush on for about 10 years. (He was my busmate for a couple of years and always hung out at my all-girls’ school. I had a crush on him in the fourth grade and eventually asked him out to the prom. By then, he was in college. He said no. Yes, I was that pathetic).

Someday, I’ll go into greater detail when I feel like embarrassing myself even more. The funny thing is, it turns out he was the batchmate of my boyfriend in Ateneo, although J doesn’t know him at all.

But I digress. Some of the pages from the aforementioned slambook were posted on Adarna’s Facebook page, presumably so people could laugh at how dated the dedications are—and how. Check out these gems:

"If you will marry a man, don't marry a flirt. Marry a man who can wash his shirt. Just me, Ben." Sure, I'm all for that. I'm lousy at doing my own laundry, much less some dude's sweaty shirt.

You gotta hand it to them for painstakingly cutting out their photos and pasting them on slambooks (and no, it is NOT spelled as "slum books.")

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First, there were headlines about hackers breaking into Philippine government websites. Then came the news about millions of pesos in lost tourism revenue for the Philippines. It’s been a week since the horrifying Quirino hostage took place, and the Chinese have definitely been showing their anger in more ways than we deserve. I have to admit I admire Hong Kong citizens for being united enough to gather 80,000 people for a rally, considering they’re a small population. But I don’t admire the many ways that some private citizens have been retaliating against Filipinos.

An article in the Philippine Daily Inquirer reported that “a series of unconfirmed reports of Hong Kong employers trying to vent their anger by sacking or attacking their helpers has been widely circulating among Filipinos.” Domestic helper Joy Fajardo told the newspaper that more than 30 Filipino maids were sacked after the tragedy, and that she heard rumors that three maids were killed (acid was allegedly splashed on one of them). “We don’t know if these cases are true. But we are very scared,” she said.

The paper went on to say that another Filipino worker, Julie, said her 60-year-old employer, for whom she has worked for 14 years, did not speak to her after the hostage crisis. “She watched news on TV about the hijacking. She did not talk to me and did not give me dinner on Wednesday,” she said.

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Last night’s popular Twitter hashtag came in the form of #sentisabado, which had people Tweeting about their favorite ’90s moments—and there were many. All the “Dear Diary, Carlo sat beside me today” and “Bahaw, ang kaning lamig” references made it clear that a lot of twenteensomethings spent last night reliving the decade that brought them up.

A few months ago, I talked about the ’90s commercials that defined my childhood, as well as the junk food that I ate, which were all part of last night’s nostalgia trip. And then people started bringing up ’90s fashion, which made me think of the stuff I used to wear back in grade school. One thing that saved me from complete fashion victim status was parental intervention. Although I very much wanted to get some of the trendier items, like Doc Martens and denim jumper shorts, my parents weren’t so gung-ho about letting me wear them (I did wear a lot of printed leggings though). However, I still managed to wear most of the ’90s trends below.

Which were the ones that you wore?

The quintessential '90s look. (These photos were taken in 2005 as a spoof photo shoot for Inquirer; my friend Katrina was game enough to pose for them. She doesn't usually dress like this, I promise!)

Dresses worn over shirts
It was the early stages of layering when black spaghetti-strapped dresses worn over plain white shirts became popular with girls during the early ’90s (no other color combinations were acceptable). This outfit was worn with Keds and tube socks or clogs.

Tretorn sneakers and Doc Martens were hot

Doc Martens
Every kid had to have a pair of Doc Martens. If you didn’t, you were sent to a corner to shiver over your lack of coolness (myself included). Doc Martens were worn with everything, from dresses to jeans to overalls, and came in a variety of styles and colors. Tretorns were also pretty popular, although in our school, they were also eventually used as P.E. shoes.

Grunge
Blame it on Kurt Cobain and the smell of teen spirit – the early ’90s were dominated by teens with unwashed hair in ripped jeans, flannel shirts and grubby sneakers.

Sunflowers and matte makeup

Sunflower everything
Sunflower hats, clothes, accessories—it was the flower of the decade, if there was ever such a thing.

Statement clothes and accessories
Shirts and necklaces with smart-aleck words and phrases such as ”Whatever,” ”Yeah, right” and ”As if” sold like hotcakes. Also popular at that time were hippie-inspired smiley faces, peace signs, the yin-yang symbol, and flowers. (Statement shirts were pretty popular last year, proof that fashion is always recycled).

High-waisted, tapered jeans, midriff (a.k.a "hanging") top, folded hat.. a classic '90s look

Midriff/”hanging” shirts
Now, it’s all about long and lean shirts. In the ’90s, the closer the hem of the shirt was to the belly button, the cooler it was.

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..Or so she says she’ll always be. In reality, she just turned 22 today.

At Napa Valley last year; a sober shot before the wine-tasting began

You know you’re definitely getting old when your younger sister starts moaning about old age. Well, if she’s staying 21 forever, then I’ll be 25 years old for the next five years.

Showing some sisterly love, Street Fighter-style, at Yosemite

Happy birthday to Nikka, my darling little sister, who has gotten used to being written about in articles and blog entries throughout the years. She has the patience of an ancient monk with me that way. Nikka’s the resident nerd of the house, so when we need any math or chemistry problems solved, she’s the go-to person. She also manages to beat all my high scores when she plays the gaming apps on my iPhone. Boo hoo.

People think this photo was taken ages ago because she looks so young, but it was actually only a couple of years ago because Pepper the Family Dachshund came in early 2007.

She may be getting well into her twenteensomething years, but she’ll always be a little kid to me. Here’s to crazy little sisters and overprotective ates! (i.e., me)

Y2's real-life Parisian fashion moments

Maureen was inspired by Gossip Girl, Vogue and Inglourious Basterds

It took me quite a while to choose the winners because there were so many cute entries, but after much deliberation, Y2 Villanueva and Maureen Belmonte are going home with P5,000 worth of gift certificates from Promod. Y2 sent in photos of her favorite Parisian fashion moments—right beside her wearing outfits inspired by them when she went to Paris! I love how knowledgeable she is about Parisian culture. But I have to admit my favorite moment of the three ones she presented was the bit with Barbie, because I’m (obviously) addicted to all things pink.

“I absolutely loved the Barbie 50th runway show showcasing 50 of the most popular fashion designers from all over the world as they interpreted Barbie’s transformation in her 50 years of plastic existence. One of the most striking outfits, the American flag dress (obviously in reference to 2009′s new American first lady), was made by French designer Catherine Malandrino! And those shoes! The Barbie pink (yes, the Pantone color really is named that) platforms were made by none other than Christian Louboutin, who also hails from France. Just as Barbie is timeless and fashionable, so is French fashion and the designers who keep it alive and thriving.”

I love Barbie!

Maureen, on the other hand, talked about her love for old-school glamour as shown in Inglourious Basterds. She particularly loved the cage veil headpiece worn by Emanuelle Mimeux in the scene before the kill:

Elegant, simple--but dramatic

Please get in touch with me at biancaconsunjiATyahoo.com so I can tell you how to claim your gift certificates!