Oh dear.

How long has it been? It seemed like a month since i last fenced brains with my motime muse. I apologize.

The past month was a whirlwind of coverages from the outrageous, to the downright boring. But all of them, definitely served great roast beefs and mashed potatoes (for the vegetarians, I had delish Ceasar's Salad -- no bacon bits).

Notice how, when you do something ridiculous or totally outlandish, as long as you do it in groups, you feel like what you’re doing is totally cool? Like this one time when I went on this party wherein most of those who attended were foreigners. Now, I don't have any problems with foreigners (mostly Caucasians and Japanese) invading my party scene, but when they go there dressed in ‘Fame’ outfits -- now that’s something I’m totally not prepared to see. It turned out that the bar I went to had this 80’s theme party going, and the whole point of their soiree is of course, dress like Madonna and Michael Jackson during their hey days. Aaaah, the ‘80s. I can’t really remember the ’80s since I was born in ’81. What I do remember are the big balloon skirts and the song ‘Ocean Deep.’

Now the first person in costume that I saw, was this tall and lanky guy who had on his boxer shorts and a really scruffy shirt torn in the middle, and he was really… hairy. Not the sexy hairy-chest kind of hairy, but the hairy can-I-comb-your-chest kind. He was wearing striped socks with pretty old shoes that looked as though rats just had it for dinner. It was pretty uncomfortable to look at him, ‘coz I had the feeling he’d ask me why I was wearing normal clothes at that time and he’d make me feel truly out of place. He came, as an ‘80s aerobics instructor by the way, I found this out when he started to do lunges and leg stretchings on top of the buffet table (I can actually see the mater dei frantically instructing his waiters in a hushed voice to cover the roast beef).

Then the girls came. One girl came in wearing an old Madonna outfit. She had curly hair and was wearing all black complete with spiked boots with net gloves and stockings. When she came near me, I commented how nice her Madonna costume was and she answered, "Oh no, I’m Cindy Lauper." Oh.

Now some came in more Aerobics outfits as well. As in leotards-over-spandex-pants-and-bulky-socks getup. Did I mention their leotards all had stringed-backs? I look at them and I keep on staring at the buns they were serving. My friend asked me if I wanted one and I declined.

Anyway, the people were pretty nice and they were definitely having the time of their lives. Most seemed to agree on going as aerobics enthusiasts since almost everyone had that get-up. But I did saw this one guy who had a Don Johnson look going on. And I remembered, "Miami Vice!" So I told him, "Nice costume dude," and then he answered, "What costume?" That’s when I slithered away from him.

Anyway, I don’t think I could have started having serious contemplation about the ‘80s when I was nine, so I don’t think I’d be able to give intelligent insights about that era. All I know is that the ‘80s was truly a period of bad hairdos, Wheel of Fortune, and an even worse fashion sense. Well, I think the music was pretty good, if I could only understand what most of the ‘80s songs’ lyrics were all about.

Oh, and by the end of the party, all of those in costume gave a farewell number – do a dance version of ‘Fame."

‘I’m gonna live forever, I’m gonna learn how to fly, HIGH!"

Long live the ‘80s.

He was standing beside their field. Funny how the vastness of the grassy range overwhelms him now. It seemed so small when he was with her. It looked the same with its dewy blades and pebbly surface. But something was missing. He stared at the canopy, which stretched the heavens; and noticed that no star was visible tonight. Only the moon stood witness to his musings. "She must be lonely"; he uttered to no one in particular. "No she’s not"; it was Vicky, Diana’s friend. "I meant the moon. No stars to accompany her tonight", Patrick said, surprised that Vicky sneaked up without him noticing.

"Victoria, what are you doing here?"

"Nothing really. I was headed back for my dorm when I saw you haunting this place". He knew it was a joke, but there was a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

"I wasn’t ‘haunting’, I was merely passing by", he said a little too defensively. "Soccer season will be starting soon, so I was just getting the feel of the field, I heard the guys from I.S. are getting better. So I’m just watching out", he explained.

"Ah, ever the captain. I see you’re living your dream", he just shrugged and smiled at the compliment. Soccer was his first love. It was on the field that he felt in control. He was the master. He was good, and he knew it.

‘She’s living her dream too, you know", and for once, his thought of winning the championship was distracted by the sudden presence of her thought. She was like him, in a lot of ways. They both knew what they wanted, and they have the guts to achieve it. But she was more spirited, more vocal. And he, well, he postpones. He believed in the right time for everything, even emotions.

"I know, I saw her piece this morning. I was looking at the ads when the news section fell. Front page, something about police corruption in higher ranks. She’s making headlines as a neophyte, she always dreamed of making the banner story", Patrick went on babbling. His mind was an obvious mess.

"She’s a good writer. A little aggressive, but you know her", Vicky couldn’t help but feel proud of her friend.

"I know what you mean. Her dreams usually involved nameless hopes. But she was certain about Journalism."

"One of her dreams used to have a name," Vicky put in.

He was silent.

"It wasn’t a dream. She called me a nightmare!" he laughed, but deep inside, he felt the stab of truth of his own words.

"Well, it’s good you finally accepted how she fell for you once, too bad you couldn’t say the same. Anyway, she dreams differently now", she was looking at him intently, searching for any sign of what he truly felt. But as usual, he didn’t give himself away. Always the Sphinx, with all his riddles. Hopeless.

"Well, I better go now. It was nice seeing you again", but he wasn’t listening. He drifted his gaze once more on the field. So she left, not waiting for him to bid her farewell.

- "Is she lonely?" he thought this time. "The moon, I was thinking of the moon", he chanted to himself. But in the end, he whispered, this time his own voice barely audible to himself, "God, I sure am."