Happy Bloggy Birthday

Or Happy Bloggiversary. Or is it Bloggaversary? Either way, it sounds bad, so I’ll stick with Happy Birthday. But really, today is not BR’s birthday.

If you really want to know, this blog died and was just resurrected last year, January 7, 2011, with a comeback post regarding Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird. Apt enough since that is the first novel that I ever read. I think I should stick with that date as BR’s birthday because posts before that day have all been deleted, dating back to as far as October 2009. Those are a handful of posts regarding Death at Intervals and The Heart is a Lonely Hunter.

But that’s not the point. In the spirit of goodwill and sharing, and in gratitude of the attention that you are indulging me by reading what I have to say on books that I’ve read and half-forgotten, I’m giving away a book and a gift cheque. Oops, with feelings now: I’m giving away a book and a gift cheque! Don’t try rereading that sentence because I am dead serious. Call it promotion or whatever, but I still am going to do it.

But I can only give these two goodies to one person. I’m not Santa Claus. I’m too thin to be him, and even if I were sickeningly obese, Christmas is over. So let’s settle this with a contest.

I won’t ask you to like a link or repost this somewhere or follow me on Twitter (because my Twitter account has long been deleted) or whatever similar to those. I’ll just ask you one thing. On the comments section, please post a memory when you were 12 years old.

Additional rules: entries should be between 100 to 300 words. Contest will run for 12 days, which means you can still submit your entries until January 19. If less than three participants join, the contest is nullified. Entries will not be published during the duration of the contest, just to avoid sneaking into the entries of others. But they will all be published afterward.

Everyone is invited to join. For participants not living in the Philippines, they can only vie for the book. For participants actually living, breathing, thrashing in the Philippines, they can vie for the book and the gift cheque worth Php500.00, either from National Book Store or Fully Booked or whichever book store. It’s your choice.

You must be thinking what the criteria are for judging. Well, the most striking and beautifully written memory wins the loot. That’s all. I’m not inviting any authorities on this. You just have to trust my judgment.

By the way, here’s the book that I am giving away is Black Swan Green by David Mitchell.

Go figure why I’m asking you to wade through your 12-year old memories. Anyway, Black Swan Green is one of the twelve books from 2011 that I love. This is a trade paperback edition, but it’s almost as big as a hardbound edition. This is an extra copy that I bought brand new. Yes, it’s not from the sale bins, but after all these months, it experienced a little discoloration. Just a little, otherwise, it is unread and new. The copy that I read is a different edition, which I am keeping.

If this book doesn’t appeal to you, I think the gift cheque will. Oh, I’m sure it will. And please join, someone!

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11 thoughts on “Happy Bloggy Birthday

  1. Ha! I’ll definitely join this. Wait for my entry! Haha! Happy birthday to your blog. Magkasunod tayo! Mine is January 6 (but we don’t celebrate it haha)

    • Thanks! We really don’t intend to celebrate it (because it’s not the real birthday). But for the lack of better things to do (and I am feeling a little generous now), I decided to do this. :D

  2. Here’s my entry:

    Okay, 12 years old. Hmm. I remember wanting to learn how to cook so much that I offered to cook (read: fry) the chicken that my dad prepared for our dinner one time. (Yes, my dad’s the unofficial cook in our house.) After my dad gave me the specific instructions, I donned an apron (no, it doesn’t say “kiss the cook” on it), prepared the pan and the tongs, and proceeded to cook. Well, I didn’t know that I was supposed to let the water on the pan dry up before putting in the oil, or else, puputok. So what happened was, I drizzled the oil onto the pan and before I realized what was happening, the hot oil spat at me right in the face – somewhere within the vicinity of my right cheek, just beside my right nostril. It hurt so much and grew into a huuuuge scab, but I proudly wore it and did not disguise it as a pimple. Whenever my schoolmates or teachers would ask what it was, I’d always say, “Natalsikan po ng mantika,” with a certain glow and pride in the words. See, it was a testament to my attempts to learn how to cook.

    Yes, I do know how to cook now, thank you very much. :)

  3. When I was 12, it’s full play. I didn’t think about things seriously. So innocent and temporary. So I don’t remember much anything except this guy:

    I
    You always have that serious look on your face.
    You’re always the most obedient kid on the planet.
    I watch you going in and out of the room.
    I always wonder if you can stay for a while so I can stare at you.
    I always wonder if you notice me.
    You seem to be busy with errands all the time.
    I wonder if you can stay for a while so I can introduce myself.

    II.
    You tease me a lot.
    I wonder if that’s cute or frustrating.
    At least I have some of your divided attention.

    I always long for your laugh and parade of funny sarcastic insults.
    Quite a martyr? Not really. I don’t mind or take them seriously.
    At least I have some of your divided attention.

    I was twelve, then. What happened next? After ten years of shit and happiness, we’re still together :)

    #artelang

  4. The year I turned twelve was the year my mom and I moved to Florida to attend Bible school. She worked in a coat closet in the balcony of this church because that’s where the translation department equipment was. The church services went to all hours of the night and sometimes early mornings. I have memories of my mom telling me to go to sleep because I had school but we had to stay so she could work. I fell asleep many nights underneath the jackets in that coat closet. It sounds odd but I remember it fondly looking up and seeing ushers coats, hearing my mom translate the service and hearing people worshiping in the service outside the door.

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