Father – The Diary of The Deranged Writer

10-Minute Warning CXCII

What can I write here in under ten minutes?

Let me just list down what happened today:

Lately, I have been drinking FRESH POTS every morning. Again. Today is no exception. 2010 Dewey is screaming with joy.
I recited Steiner Math at home. Again. HOLLA IF YA HEAR ME!!!
I walked from my mall of choice to the nearest hospital. That’s 1 km.
I walked from the hospital lobby to the 12th floor through the emergency stairway to buy my dermatologist’s medicine.
After going down to the hospital lobby via elevator, I walked from there to the mall. That’s another 1 km.
I met with my Mother, my cousin May, and my Tita Maggie, and we had a lovely merienda at Paul. I ordered a tartine salmon, and paired it with a refreshing glass of mango juice. It was excellent! I’d order a tartine salmon from Paul again.
I walked around the mall to cool down further. I almost tried a different cafe that also serves affogato.
I was mocked by a group of people because of my face. I know because when I passed by them, I heard them saying, “Pogi ang pananamit, pero ang pangit ng mukha.” (The style is nice, but the face is ugly.) I’m aware that I don’t have the face of a matinee idol. In fact, I have been insecure about my looks for a long time, and their mocking didn’t help at all. I was really hurt. Thanks for that.
To calm myself, reset, and feel better, I dropped by my favorite cafe again, and I had a hot Earl Grey tea. This time, I only stayed for around ten minutes. I already did my Monday ritual anyway, so I’m good with a quick cup of tea.
I went home with my parents and my cousin May.
And now I’m writing this post.

Oops. My ten minutes are up. See you in the next post.

A part of 14 Days of The Deranged Writer (2025).

Header image: Edward Eyer of Pexels. Edited in Adobe Photoshop 2025.

10-Minute Warning CLXXXIX

Hi, Diary. What can I type in under ten minutes?

After a whirlwind set of days filled with Foo Fighters euphoria, wandering around Singapore in a short period of time, returning to Manila, and then returning to my normal routine, my body’s truly waving the white flag. My muscles are still a bit sore, and my throat hurts. (In the first few days of having throat pain after the Foo Fighters show at the Singapore Grand Prix, I sounded like Lemmy from Motörhead.) And today, I’ve been coughing. Perhaps you can say that now I’m a flu fighter. And I’m fighting the flu with Bioflu, some hot honey/citron/ginger tea, and lots of rest.

But then my Father ordered me to finish some paperwork this afternoon. He’s also my boss, so I can’t say no to that. At least the paperwork is easy though. I’ve done them before anyway. It’s like muscle memory.

Speaking of muscles, my arms are in more pain than usual. Fuck. Even if I have more things to say and my ten minutes are still not up, I need more rest.

And that’s my update for today. See you in the next post. (And I hope I feel better when that happens.)

Header image: Anna Shvets of Pexels. Edited in Adobe Photoshop 2025.

XXXIV: The Hulk Hogan Question My Grandfather Frequently Asked

Usually, I would watch WWE alone, and I’m cool with it. Yes, I eventually found a few friends who watch WWE or pro wrestling in general (casual or a die-hard fan like me), but I also accepted a long time ago that pro wrestling is not everyone’s cup of tea.

Whenever I do watch pro wrestling with other people, it’s even better. One of my bonding moments with my Father would be watching clips of WWE (old or new) on YouTube. Sometimes, my Younger Brother (the Kane to my Undertaker) would watch with me, too. Recently, when I was watching the recent edition of Saturday Night’s Main Event, my Younger Brother was surprised to see Goldberg in action. (I told him it was his retirement match, and he was battling Gunther for the World Heavyweight Championship.)

But whenever I watch WWE with my lolo (Tagalog for “grandfather”), Lolo Ice, it’s a different situation—primarily because he doesn’t know it’s scripted, predetermined. If I did bring up the scripted fact to him, he would forget it, and he would still cheer for the faces (heroes) and jeer for the heels (villains)… and I love him for that. I can just enjoy watching the matches and moments with my lolo without analyzing them. This is why I called him my wrestling buddy.

And of all the times Lolo Ice and I watched any wrestling match or moment, he would always bring up one question about an important figure in pro wrestling, and I would always answer the same way.