I lost a mini journal. It's more like a pad where I keep notes of my everyday living. Everything I think I need to jot down is there. Pieces of simple writing like recipes of poisoned food, thoughts of assassination, notes on a seminar, my plans for the next decade (and the like). That journal is as important as my other journals, that when I looked for it in my most secretive hiding place called "backpack" and it's not there, I flipped over and gone hysterical. Turning every book and building inside our home, I searched for every square inch of evidence to where it might be.
I continued to sweat profuriously while drinking gatorade to fuel me in search for a lost piece of documentary of my life, realizing it's already 2am. Gawd. I feel like a sponge drenched in elephant's sweat. I need to find that freakin' pad, or else if anyone reads it I'm dead meat. It's like your dream, when you go to school late and head towards your classroom and you rush in in front of everybody, only to find out you had no clothes on. That's what will happen if I don't find out the freakin' pad.
I continued to sweat profuriously while drinking gatorade to fuel me in search for a lost piece of documentary of my life, realizing it's already 2am. Gawd. I feel like a sponge drenched in elephant's sweat. I need to find that freakin' pad, or else if anyone reads it I'm dead meat. It's like your dream, when you go to school late and head towards your classroom and you rush in in front of everybody, only to find out you had no clothes on. That's what will happen if I don't find out the freakin' pad.
This happens to me a lot. While I was in search (still keeping my cool, if there was any to begin with) for my journal, I've gone over on a few stuffs back in college. I was fishing for the pad in a pile of old calling cards, exhibit ids and flyers when I found my old small sketch notebook from college. 
I bought it from Papemelrotti, I remember. I used to buy stuffs there a lot. It was like a second hand shop for me, or at least it feels like it. I am this type of person who wants stuffs with stories. I would rather go to a flea market for furniture rather than the Supermarket. Papemelrotti kinda gives me the feeling that there stuff is one of a kind (although it's not). I lost that sketch notebook a long long time ago. I drew to it some sketches and wrote a few notes, nothin' important. But as I was leafing through the pages, the somewhat unimportant events that I've sketched there suddenly became a memory. Memories for me whether good or bad is somehow special. And the simple sketches there, in the old sketch notebook translated memories that I will always look back to.
I bought it from Papemelrotti, I remember. I used to buy stuffs there a lot. It was like a second hand shop for me, or at least it feels like it. I am this type of person who wants stuffs with stories. I would rather go to a flea market for furniture rather than the Supermarket. Papemelrotti kinda gives me the feeling that there stuff is one of a kind (although it's not). I lost that sketch notebook a long long time ago. I drew to it some sketches and wrote a few notes, nothin' important. But as I was leafing through the pages, the somewhat unimportant events that I've sketched there suddenly became a memory. Memories for me whether good or bad is somehow special. And the simple sketches there, in the old sketch notebook translated memories that I will always look back to. 
Date: August 04, 2004
Sketch done by: JM Dionisio
at: SM Foodcourt, Megamall
Titled and Signed: "umiiyak si ina"
I can't even remember why Ina is crying, but the fact that we were there makes it a very memorable incident in our lives. I tried so hard to remember certain reasons why Ina would cry. Of course honestly speaking I could think of a thousand involving her love life, but more importantly this page makes me think of every memory I had with Ina. Our laugh trips outside and during class hours, our days of immaturity and eye balls ( I have to laugh on this!). Every single one. A regular person would find it very hard to imagine Ina crying. Ma. Ina Paula Navarro or I would fondly call her Maria Ina Davia (Haha!) is such an outgoing and funny girl. But of course, I as a close friend can tell what mood she wears on a specific time of the day. She once told me that I am the only person that cracks jokes about her that makes it funny. Thanks Ina, that's really a big compliment, and I think I'm getting better everytime we see each other. Haha!
We because in the following pages, Meg and EJ also sketched in my notebook:
This is a sketch of Meggy done by EJ entitled "Braces". The title makes it seem like a very innocent and professional artwork, when in fact, during this time, I remember EJ having a thing for Meggy! When I come to think of it, if EJ would really make it to the big scene as a hotshot national artist that we believe that he is, this would be like a Monalisa of the Philippines! You should not let us down Eloriaga. 
However, this is the most important sketch of all. Done by the great impressionist Margaret Monique Smith. How she works with her lines and detailing, impeccable. (I miss you Meggy!)There are also other sketches that I would like to post that I know will make you remember of the days we used to live.
Well, there are a few other stuffs too that I choose not to post for certain identity protection reasons (of other people), that I think we really really need to take seriously. (haha!)
Going back to my dilemma of finding that freakin' pad... I was nearly losing hope, thinking I dropped it somewhere during my commute or left it on one of the hundreds of Starbucks outlets that I've been to. I double checked, triple checked on everything.
Back in high school, I lost my examination permit when I was about to go to school one early morning. I sure will be late and won't be able to take the test if I don't find it fast. As I was about to give up, I sat on the foot of my bed and prayed really hard like there's no tomorrow. In all honesty, I heard an eerie whisper in my ear (as real as someone whispers to you), "Sa ilalim ng hagdan." (Under the stairs). Over and over again. It's like a record that countinously echoes to your head. So I decided to look under the stairs near the basement. And shockingly, there it was, on top of a pile of books. I don't know how it freakin' got there but at that moment I was simply glad I found it and quickly left for school. I never looked back at it since.
Then guess what? It happened again with this pad. Minus the whispers, thank God. But the thought of looking through a pile of old magazines made it weird. I looked in it anyway. And found my pad there. In between magazines.
This happens to me a lot. Losing something and in the process of searching for it, you find a multiplicity of other stuffs. Stuffs that you thought you never had, stuffs that you thought is not really that important, stuffs that you thought you had lost a long long time ago. And it turns out, you found more than what you're looking for. 
