Hand-me-downs or not, my past phones all served their purpose: I was able to keep in touch with my friends and family. In high school, I was never one of the students who just had to have the newest and coolest phones. As long as I could make calls and send text messages, I was fine. Even when I got to college, I didn’t mind that I didn’t have a camera in my phone; it was only after I was already working that my mom gave me the 7360 and was able to take grainy pictures with my cell.

And then came the Samsung Star, with all its advanced touch-screen technology and Internet application buttons. With a quick flick of my thumb, I could change my Facebook status, update my Twitter account, and even check my Tumblr dashboard; I had been poisoned.

Admittedly, it wasn’t just the Star that poisoned me; wireless Internet had had a hand in it as well. After I broke up with my boyfriend, I would often leave my phone in my room or in my bag, forgetting about it until I needed to contact someone not within earshot. This was before the reign of the smartphones in my life. When the Star entered my life, my phone was always in my hand, or at least within an easy arm’s length away. It made for awful actual social skills but made my online one remarkable.

I eventually grew to love that phone. So much so that when my sister gave me her iPhone 3G because our uncle gave her his 3GS, I didn’t give the Star away to anyone. Maybe if it weren’t pinkish-lavender, I would’ve given it to my nephew/godson Miguel, who lost his old phone when it unnoticeably fell from his pocket. Still, I could’ve sold it and gotten a few extra bucks but told myself that I was holding on to it because the iPhone might start acting up like my sister’s old first generation one. But if the Star merely poisoned me, the iPhone completely did me in.

It wasn’t just the instant-ness of checking my emails on multiple accounts or the gorgeous interface—it was the games I downloaded which allowed me to pretend I could cook or wasn’t afraid of cats; it was the ease of taking a picture of Christmas lanterns on the street and then posting it on my Twitter account; but most importantly, it was the fact that I could communicate with my best friend who lives in San Francisco instantly. With PingChat!, I was able to send text-like messages and files to her in real time with no cost. It cost less to talk to my friend in the US than to text someone in say, Greenhills or Makati.

Of course, if you read this essay’s title, you’d know by now that I lost my iPhone as well. Like Miguel, I didn’t notice it fall from my pocket while I was riding a cab with my friends on the way to my house. Like the 7360, I lost it after a particularly fun event (I had just spent 3 hours in a videoke place in Makati with my high school friends and 2 of my college ones and we had transferred to my house to continue the festivities). But unlike the Tropical Hut incident, I wasn’t just lamenting the loss of the contacts and messages and birthday alerts on my phone, or the change to a new number that I had to rememorize. This time around, I was actually grieving over the actual phone; and the fact that I had only had it for less than 2 weeks; and the stupidity of the whole thing. My stupidity. Before the hour was over, I had listed all the ‘if onlys’ in my head. If only I had put it in my bag instead of my pocket. If only I had checked my pockets before I stepped out of the cab. If only I had checked the seats before I closed the door.  I had so much regret and was in too much grief, I literally couldn’t move from my seat in our living room. My cousin had to entertain our friends while I whined and moaned and occasionally banged my fists on the armrests.

Eventually, I had to take my heart medication (I suffer from Mitral Valve Prolapse) because my chest felt so heavy. Aside from my loss, I wasn’t really looking forward to telling my family about what happened.

That night (or morning, actually), after my cousin and I said our goodnights, I woke up repeatedly thinking about my phone. I would tell myself not to dwell on it or I wouldn’t be able to go back to sleep, until I finally gave in and just stared out into space. You would think this was all a bit melodramatic, and I would agree with you. My reaction was a bit over the top. After all, I still had the Star in my drawer and only needed to buy a new SIM card. And with Facebook, it’s so easy to collect people’s contact information now. But I couldn’t help but compare this exaggerated mourning to someone suffering from a breakup.

I remember the sleepless nights, the weird churning in my stomach, and yes, the chest pains when I broke up with my boyfriend. The breakup even had a silver lining too, in the fact that I still remained good friends with my ex. But still, there was the grief, the regret, the what-ifs—the unbearable feeling that I wouldn’t have needed to be so bereft had I done some things differently. Even that dreadful anxiety over the thought of telling my family about it had an eerie sense of déjà vu in it. But obviously I got over the breakup, so I tell myself I’ll get over the loss of my two-week-old relationship with my phone. Eventually, yes, but perhaps not that soon. After all, didn’t I just tweet “Losing your phone is like breaking up with someone. You think you’re over them, but you wake up from naps randomly thinking about the games you used to play.”?

For those of you who don’t watch TBBT, I feel sorry for you, you’re seriously missing out. Here’s some of Sheldon’s bazingas.

Sasha and Zoe back in March 2000

I met Zoe during my freshman year in high school. She was a new student but I was so intimidated by her that I didn’t really talk to her until about the 3rd day. All my other classmates had been telling me that she was really nice, but because she was this tall, beautiful and confident girl who spoke no Filipino I stayed away. It wasn’t until she started goofing off in our classroom that I had the confidence to even approach her and introduce myself. I can’t remember how exactly, but the group started talking about NSYNC and we both said how much we loved that group. We turned to each other and said “I LOVE JUSTIN!” and thus, our friendship was born.

After that, we were practically inseparable in school. We spent recess and lunch together, usually eating the same thing, and sat next to each other in class. Because some of our classes were in Filipino, I sometimes had to explain stuff to her. In return, I think I felt more confident in speaking English because I was always around her and on the phone with her.

I never really liked big celebrations for my birthdays, so that school year my family and I just went to Shangri-La mall. This wasn’t our usual mall, but because Zoe worked in her uncle’s shop there, I insisted that we go there so she could join us. And that’s when we had that picture (above) taken. I still always keep it in my wallet today. Also, I will forever associate Shangri-La to Zoe, especially that particular part of the mall where her uncle’s shop was.

Before the school year was over, I found out that she was going back to California. I knew she was ecstatic about this, but of course I wasn’t. I was talking to one of our friends about it when Zoe approached us. Of course, being the drama queen that I was I had already been crying my eyes out. She said she didn’t know that her leaving would affect me that much. And then we hugged and spent the lunch period sitting together and being melodramatic.

As it turned out, she didn’t leave until the following school year but she didn’t enroll in our school anymore. However, we still talked everyday and she visited me in school from time to time. We spent her last day in the Philippines with her brother Forbes and her sister Guada in Megamall because it was just a walking distance from their condo. Amazingly enough, I didn’t cry. Then. When my dad picked me up and we were driving away was when I started crying quietly. The following day, she called me really early before her flight and we said goodbye. I remember I was already wearing the North Carolina jersey she left with me. (Why did she have an NC jersey? Because Justin Timberlake had the same one. LOL)

Anyway, the point is, that was the last time I saw Zoe face to face. The next few years, we chatted online and she’d call me sometimes. Then thank heavens, Skype was invented!

Recently, I started having dreams about her coming back here for a visit. I would always be so happy, but then get so sad when I wake up and realize that it was all a dream. We’ve always talked about being like Monica and Rachel in Friends and getting an apartment together, but I guess her coming here for a visit is easier for me so that’s what I always dream about. I don’t know why I suddenly decided to write about Zoe and our friendship. I suppose it’s because I couldn’t sleep the other night and I started thinking about all the things that I associate with her. Like Shangri-La, the area near Megamall where her condo was, Baby Ruth candy bars (we used to eat them during recess), the fact that I don’t carry food trays when there are open drinks on them (that last day we spent together was when I realized that I couldn’t carry one; I dropped our tray of food and made the biggest mess ever), etc.

But I guess the main reason is just because I really miss her. I’m so sappy today, I don’t know why. Pft.

I’ve started a Tumblr blog so I suppose I wouldn’t be here as much as before. Tumblr is easier to maintain. But I’ll still keep this for those times that I feel like writing an actual post.

I think I might be getting a new tattoo soon. I want it on the side of my ribs. I might get it next Saturday, provided that I still have enough money by then.

I recently got The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo and The Girl Who Played With Fire. Haven’t started on it, though. Soon. I’ve just been a bit out of it lately. Haven’t been reading much.

The doctor said I might (MIGHT) have polycystic ovary syndrome. I’m too chicken and self-conscious to let them do the test to check if I do have it. I’m just praying I don’t have it.

Movies I’ve seen lately and LOVED: Avatar, Zombieland (!!!), Sherlock Holmes.

What I’m not so enthused about is the actual process of moving. It’s so tiring. I sound like a brat, but it really is. My whole life, I’ve only ever moved once before. And that was to a unit 10 steps away from our old unit in one same apartment. And it practically knocked me out! I remember saying that I will never move again. I will live there forever. When I have my own family, I will make them live in that same apartment unit. But really, now I’m thankful that we are moving. A bit anxious, and not looking forward to the labor…but still thankful.

Anyway, tonight after work I went with my mom and brother to check the house. It’s a townhouse that we had tweaked and customized a little bit. Here are some pictures of the messy but promising place.

1st floor

Room I'll share with my sister. Yay for bookshelves!

Still part of our room. Love that vanity mirror.

Click here for more pictures (opens in new window). The house isn’t very big, but I’m happy with it. Can’t wait to get our stuff in that small cramped room.

Please, miss…give me back my heart. And my being a straight girl, while you’re at it.

This has got to be, by far, her best photo shoot EVER. And, oh…those shades? FIERCE!

Photos nabbed from KSTEWARTFAN.

But if I think of death directly, I can’t say exactly how I picture it. Because I do believe in Heaven, and many times my prayers would end with ‘take care of lolo, God.’ So yes, I picture him up there with the Big Guy I pray to. But I also picture him down here, hovering near us, haunting his room, watching all of us and chuckling at our antics the way he used to when he was still alive. And really, both scenarios warm my heart.

I suppose you’re wondering what brought this on. Oftentimes I write about passing…of pain, of wanting to escape. That is what I think of dying. But after reading Her Fearful Symmetry by Audrey Niffenegger, I’ve started thinking of the afterlife. Will I linger? Where? Will I haunt anyone? Or will I simply still exist without actually existing? Stuck in another room with one-sided mirrors for walls, always so close but never quite there. Will I long to be alive again? To be with the people I love? To touch again? To be warm again? Or will I simply relish the freedom that I felt eluded me during my living years?

Click here to go to the artist’s DeviantArt page.