Last night after meeting Fifi at the BBC building, I decided to go back to the office and go with my officemates. I didn't care where they wanted to go, or what they wanted to do, but it was wise to stay with them, because they exuded a sense of family, something I hadn't experienced in months.

I helped them write articles for the website, I finished maybe about ten articles in less than thirty minutes. Then we took pictures at the bus stop --- that was funny. And then we all headed to Salt and Pepper to have good ole Pinoy food. I didn't think I'd be sitting down with these people and eating arrozcaldo on a Saturday night, and surely I'm glad I was part of it.

And then the time came to go home. It was dreadful. I caught a cab with Pedro, and he dropped me off on his way home. As usual the house looked gloomy. folded the now-dry clothes I had washed the night before, and took them upstairs. Colin was just about to go to the toilet in his funky red boxers. We said goodnight, sleep tight etcetera etcetera.

In my room after going through that pre-bedtime beauty regimen of mine, I settled in bed with Coraline. The next pages were spookier than ever, and I wonder how Mr. Gaiman could think of such characters and events that a little girl encounters. Maybe the evil black button-eyed parents are a representation of something? You see, they look exactly like Coraline's, except for their eyes, their creepy cold hands and long fingers. They were also extraordinarily sweet to her, a complete opposite of her sarcastic, practical, nonchalant parents. That was actually what attracted Caroline to them. Maybe the fact that they're too good to be true --- cooking her favorite dishes, letting her play outside for as long as she wants to, giving her hugs and telling her they love her ---- is something to consider. Too-good-to-be-true people are, more often than not, the least genuine ones. The con artists, the heartbreakers, the pathological liars, the sweet-talkers, the ones with fucked up hopes that by lying and lying some more, they will get what they want.

I thought about that for a long time last night while staring at the ceiling. The book slowly made its way under my pillow, and I drifted to sleep.

Thinking about that brought me nowhere really. Good morning eyebags.