It's always good meeting up with Ayvi, my Japanese sister. Back in Silliman, we would tell poeple we were sisters except that I'm Chinese. How's that again? That's just it, we'd say; we're sisters.

We had cappuccinos at Figaro first and dinner at Fazoli's after. Stayed at Seattle's Best till they told us they were closing. We talked about our lives, as usual. The husband needs to work on his marketing to give the business a much-needed boost; be arrogant in maing more money. Isis, my two-year old inaanak says "chicken" whenever she sees the Equitable-PCI Bank logo. She also knows that it's "apple" on the Mac.

I told her my frustrations with writing and she has only one thing to tell me: write.

Write on a napkin, on a mint wrapper, the hem of your skirt, your palm, on neon Post-Its; write on scented pink stationeries, on a random page of the book you're surreptitiously reading in the ladies' room cubicle of your office; write on the envelope of your five-digit phone billing statement, write on your favorite spiral notebook, write, Tintin, just write.

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ayvi: bakit ba kailangang career-in ang pagsusulat? we dont write to live; we live to write!

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tintin: gusto ko s'yang saktan! (on describing a woman from work who has annoying manners of speaking and facial expressions

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tintin: eh maka-mundo ako eh! bwahahaha! (retort to ayvi's statement on the issue of making money being a big deal)