Dreams, Disco and Duckie

2011 seems to like me quite a bit so far. Last night, I had a wonderful dream in which Darren Criss asked me to elope with him two years into the future. 24-year-old Angel, in her infinite wisdom and grace, accepted and we celebrated with a cake baked by our mothers. If there was ever a time to wish for psychic abilities, this would be it.

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I've spent the last week-and-a-half of vacation at my aunt's house in Bulacan. The house is brighter and more colorful than any other place I've ever lived in, with orange walls, gold curtains, tangerine gates and a green roof. There are times when I am actually blinded by the sunshine reflecting off the walls. The new couch covers that my aunt ordered look like they were stolen right out of an Austin Powers movie. I'm afraid to sit on the cushions--the pressure might cause a disco ball to descend from the ceiling.

It's a strange place to live in, mostly because it doesn't seem to reflect much of the family that it houses. The exuberance of the colors are blunt in a way that my aunt rarely expresses herself, though she chose them. My cousin, her only child, prefers to lie in bed all day and watch television. They are a quiet family and yet their house is an indelible presence on the street. Maybe they're onto something after all.

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Meet Duckie, my new planner:

It's the smallest planner I've ever owned, and quite frankly, the cutest. I'm trying to cut down on unnecessary junk in my bag and the hardcover planners I've used over the last three years were unwieldy. Duckie is small, flexible and holds just enough space to keep me organized. The cash flow notepages aren't so bad either. When I see my list of things to do on Duckie's smooth pages, they don't seem so scary. Kudos, Duckie.

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