Paskong C.O.D.

Paskong C.O.D.



Hummin': Chestnuts roasting...

Iba na ang simoy ng hangin. Lumalamig ang panahon na tila inihahanda ang bawat isa para sa narararapit na pagsapit ng Pasko.

Animo'y tubig sa linaw ang aking mga alaala ng mga nakaraang Pasko. Hindi lahat ay naging masaya. Hindi lahat nais kong maalala pa. Subalit, sa labing-siyam na Paskong aking nasaksihan, marami-rami rin ang hindi ko maaring kalimutan. Isa na rito ang alaala ng mga gabi sa harap ng C.O.D.

Kilalang-kilala itong maliit na mall na ito noong 90's dahil sa palabas nitong talaga nga namang dinarayo ng mga tao. Ipinapalabas kasi ang kwento ng pagdating ni Hesu Kristo sa mundo sa pamamagitan ng gumagalaw na mga mannequins.

Kakaiba.

Awtomatik.

Nakakaaliw.

Sisimulan ito sa pagpapakita ng malayong paglalakbay nila Jose at Maria papuntang Betlehem, kung saan isisilang si Hesus sa isang sabsaban. Naroroon ang mga tagapangalaga ng tupa, ang tatlong hari, mga anghel atbp. Kumpleto ang mga tauhan at may sound effects pa!

At, oo nga pala, LIBRE 'to!

Pagkatapos mapanood ang maiksing palabas habang buhat-buhat ng aking ama, bibili kami ng bagong luto na puto bumbong at bibingka. Mabango at umuusok-usok pa. Aagawin ng ate ko ang puto bumbong, akin naman ang bibingka. Aawatin pa kami ng ina ko dahil baka nga naman sa sobrang katakawan ay hindi kami matunawan.

Masarap. Walang kasing sarap ang mga pagkaing iyon.

Itong taong ito, wala nang C.O.D. na magdadala ng galak at tuwa tulad noong ako'y bata pa. Subalit masaya ako at nariyan pa ang aking pamilya at mga kaibigan kung saan nabubuhay ang mga alaala, at mga gagawin pang alaala ng mga Paskong hinaharap.

Sana ngayong Pasko, huwag nating limutin ang mga biyayang ating natanggap at huwag kaligtaang magpasalamat para sa taong nagdaan.

Maligayang Pasko sa inyong lahat!

Wisdom-induced Pain

Wisdom-induced Pain



Hummin': When God Ran by Craig, Philips & Dean

I woke up last Monday on the wrong side of the bed. My left cheek was hurting and my jaw clicked everytime I opened and closed my mouth. I thought I might've slept in a wrong position the previous night.

I shrugged it off as "stiff-jaw," if there is such a thing.

The next day I was a little bit worried because the pain wasn't going away. In fact, it was hurting even more and spreading up to my lower jawline and the inner part of my left ear. I ate a tablet of Ponstan to suppress the pain.

Wednesday came and I woke up only to find that I couldn't open my mouth properly without excruciating pain shooting from my nerves. I had a hard time eating (uuyy, diet) because I couldn't quite place the spoon inside my mouth. Brushing was another torture altogether.

Imagine my frustration.

But the climax of that day was when I forgot about my predicament and yawned widely in one of my classes. OH GOD, the pain... I almost made a scene by suddenly crying.

At first, I thought I might have a nerve problem--or something serious. (Yes, I am paranoid.) I consulted everyone, pointing to where the pain was rooting from. Then, my friend, Sheryl, suggested that the pain might be coming from the "birth" of my Wisdom Tooth. She had apparently suffered from the same symptoms.

I heaved a sigh of relief, thinking that everything's going to be okay.

And then, she added, "Mine had to be pulled out. Dental surgery."

(Remember my aversion to needles?) I wanted to faint right then and there.

Why oh why is WISDOM so hard to come by?

And in the rare times that it does come knocking at our doors, why do we usually have to undergo a lot of pain in order to obtain it?


* * *


New poem -- The World Never Sleeps.

Laughter = Tears?

Laughter = Tears?



Hummin': Lunes by Sponge Cola

I've noticed that when you're in your happiest, you cry. And on the contrary, you laugh when you're in your saddest state.

When a contestant wins in a beauty pageant, a valedictorian graduates on top of her class, a woman finally receives a proposal of marriage, why is it that each of them cries? Isn't it strange that when we experience an insurmountable surge of joy, we cry?

And yet, don't you find it strange that when we feel anguish, embarassment or disappointment, sometimes, we try to laugh it away? We tell a joke or make a joke out of the situation, even though our hearts are breaking as we do so?

Baliktad (opposites), diba?

Is it a way of coping with the unexpected arrival of emotions, or does it come naturally that when we reach the extremes, being mere humans, we just go ballistic?

I don't know the answer to all these questions. I'm equally begoggled myself.

It's just that I laughed on the day I got slapped and called, "worthless."

I laughed until tears ran out of my eyes.

Boys and Carrots

Boys and Carrots



Hummin': Wherever you are by South Border

I was late. I grabbed all my things even before the taxi had completely stopped. When it did, I quickly placed one leg out, ready to rush to class. But before I could fully get out, I looked up--only to see him.

He was standing there, barely a meter from me. I blinked twice, and he was still there.

He was the one that I used to look forward to seeing and yet, each time I do, I incomprehensibly wanted to shrivel, melt with shyness and disappear in front of him. I wished I could talk to him, but when the rare opportunity came by, I wasn't even able to complete a sentence.

I was hooked like a horse chasing after a carrot dangled on a string in front of me that I just couldn't reach. Deep down I knew it was a futile chase, and yet, I still kept on running.

It's been a while since I last saw him. But the moment came as a surprise. It was too late too look away and pretend I didn't see him. So I did the only thing I could. I looked at him, saw him recognize me and then I walked away with my head high.

I felt so much better that day knowing that I've gained my dignity back. For that little accomplishment, I was so proud of myself.

On hindsight, I realized maybe it's because I never really liked carrots anyway.

Denial Ditch

Denial Ditch



Hummin': If The Feeling Is Gone by Kyla

I have always been one who couldn't quite handle the pressure. Breaking down and crying is not my thing, especially not the crying part. But I do crumble and crawl back into my shell whenever things just seem too chaotic.

I know that about me--and yet, I've never quite tagged myself as such.

I have always used denial to go through my problems. I treat them as though they don't exist, as though everyday's just fine. I have lost a number of battles because I hid and allowed my foes to overwhelm me.

Denial is a dead end. I learned the hard way.

Two weeks, just two weeks before the summer vacation of 2002, I finalized a decision, a choice that I regret until this very day.

That last semester of my senior year in highschool, I was involved with tons of activities. I was an officer of our Teen's Fellowship, one of the staff in our Youth Leader's Conference, lead actress in one of the 3 short plays our school was presenting, cramming for all those university entrance examinations and editor-in-chief of our highschool publication, Nouvelles.

At that point in time, the pressure was piling up like the mountain of garbage in Payatas, looming and threatening to fall. I didn't know where to run. Articles were late, and the ones submitted on time were somewhere lost in space. I was tracking down from which editor hand did each paper passed through and to which it was misplaced. But no one would admit to the mistake. Everyone started pointing fingers.

I was stuck in the middle of it all.

Our newspaper adviser, who I would be thankful for all my life for all the opportunities he had opened doors for me, had our administration chewing him off about the pending release of our newspaper, and in turn he was asking me for it. But I couldn't give him anything, because I myself didn't know where it went.

I tried to run, but I was backed into a wall. I did the only thing I could think of at that time. I whipped out my white flag and surrendered.

I have been severely traumatized by that event, even though no one witnessed to the tears I had shed. I have always doubted my abilities ever since then. I no longer accepted any position for any publications ever again, not in church, not even in our university org.

The possibility of failure was just too big a risk to take.

That summer, I denied everything that happened and went on to my happy-go-lucky life. It was wrong to turn your back on problems, but I was too tired and humiliated to even think about dealing with it. I moved on, entering a new phase of my life--college.

But in truth, I had never moved on from that pit I dug myself into.

When I received my copy of that final newspaper-slash-magazine we did in time for the school's 35th anniversary ending two years ago, I felt my heart crack into hundreds of pieces...

...when I saw that my name was no longer in there.

Here I go again...

Here I go again...



Hummin': La-dee-dee-da-dum...

Warning: Long post...but it's rather interesting.

I had promised myself that I wouldn't watch soap operas ever again. I know, it sounds like a hasty decision, but read on and you will understand.

I was never the type to watch telenovelas and enjoy the similar, out-of-reality plots. But the first time that I tried watching a telenovela, I found myself a devoted follower, waiting like a hungry, salivating mutt for episode after episode (albeit in VCDs before the fever hit this country). I fell for the whole package (the story, the characters and all their paraphernalia) head over heels in loopy, psychopathic, fan-crazed love.

So after recovering from that "disorder", (it took me quite a while) I stayed away from any kind of novelas, whether they may be Spanish, Filipino, Chinese or Korean. I made sure that any kind of that mushy hodgepodge do not even come close to entering my system again. I just didn't want anything to do with it.

Then came the latest Korean-novela, Lovers in Paris.

No, I did not watch it on ABS-CBN, even when all my family members (except my bro) and friends religiously fawned over it every weeknight. Whenever the timeslot for that soap came around, I repeatedly told myself like an old woman gibbering a spiritual mantra, "It is better safe than sorry."

No one could have changed my mind.

...Or so I thought.


Lovers In Paris: The Collapse of my Resolution


I was strong, steadfast, determined. But the same culprit, who had me watching my first ever Chinovela, had me once again. Yesterday, my determination officially crumbled to pieces.

She excitedly proclaimed, "I have Lovers in Paris in VCD!!!"

And I replied without a hint of interest, "Uh-huh" and continued eating my lunch.

"Let's watch!" came the excited, high-pitch shrill of her voice.

"Uhm, NO."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to be hooked again...make that, EVER again." I meant it too.

"Arte mo ha..." Rebuffed but persistent, she tried again. "Come on, just try one episode."

"That's what I did the last time! I tried one and I ended up watching seasons 1 & 2, their other individual soaps, bought all their albums, spent thousands on concerts, squeezed myself in a press conference just to snap a few shots of him, transformed into a giddy fan who melted at pictures of them and became a moderator for a fansite!"

She got my point. "Ehhh..." was all she reasoned.

I thought I had won, but then I felt myself being dragged to the sofa.

It was deja vu. I still have that memory of her pulling me to the living room, making watch with her and translate what little Mandarin Chinese I could understand. "Sit and watch," she ordered.

I stood up. "Oh no...no, no, NO." I said it as firmly as I could.

"Sama mo..." She said, hurt was evident in her voice. "I always watch alone. Where's the fun in that if you don't have another person crying or laughing or gushing with you?" She sighed dejectedly.

"Hay nako...'wag mo akong dramahan." I wanted her to know I wasn't changing my mind, but my voice just didn't sound convincing enough.

"I've only watched a few of these episodes on TV, but I know it's really good. You'll like it, promise." When she's in this mood, it's hard to get her off your back.

"That's what I'm fearing," I confessed. One of her eyebrows raised up quizzically. "I'm afraid that I might like it TOO MUCH."

"Please? Please? Please? I don't want to watch alone..." She begged, her voice dropping to its knees and her eyes going all puppy-ish. "Please?"

The fourth one got me. I heaved out a sigh, sat my big tushie on the couch and motioned for her to start the DVD player.

We slept at 3:30 AM. I have paunchy eyebags and a sore throat.

Need I say more?



PS: My only consolation is that the story's engaging, but the guys aren't my type at all. At least I know I wouldn't be digging through sites for pictures of them anytime soon. LOL!

PPS: My sister's selling VCDs of Lovers In Paris. Anyone interested? Leave a tag. Hehe!

Hermit? Ermitanyo?

Hermit? Ermitanyo?



Silence.

I wonder why sometimes I find myself wanting to detach from this reality, from this world. I get this urge to close off all means of direct communication (e.g. cellphone, landline, instant messenger and the likes.) and spend the day without having a decent conversation with anyone.

I stare into space for hours, sometimes sitting in front of the screen, sometimes while lying on the bed--my thoughts swirling in an uncomprehensible dance of colors, each one emitting sparks as it hits another. It is during these times that I am able to find the inspiration to write, to create an extension of myself.

I play no music, not one that comes from the radio, the component or the computer. There wouldn't be drums, guitars or pianos to distract me from my short, precious time of solitude. It is during this time that I am able to fully appreciate the little sounds of everyday, fading as I zone out.

I hear the music of silence--soothing, reliable, tranquil.

There are times when I'd wish I wasn't living in such a busy, polluted city, but then, remembering all the malls I wouldn't be able to shop in changes my mind in an instant.

It's just sad that peace is one of the accessible comforts I have to give up.

Getting Hit On by the Taxi Driver

Getting Hit On by the Taxi Driver



Hummin': The angry buzzing of bees


Argh.

What's worse that having no one think you're pretty?!

Having a 30-ish, total stranger, taxi driver tell you that you are.

And I knew it's all BOGUS! I mean it...

He asked my age, my school, my province, my parents' occupation and my cellphone number! Not just that but he was asking when I'm free so he could fetch me in taxi and go on a date somewhere. Damn.

Then he started saying, "Mayaman ka ano?" (You're rich, huh?) Isn't that an obvious revelation that he might be a gold-digger who's running out of time? Being an old pedophile and all!?

Even when I refused to answer him, he kept insisting for my number and asking stuff about me. Can't he understand that a grunt usually means a person is not interested??? Damn.

I was sweating bullets despite the cold blast of aircon. And I was totally panicking inside my head. I was involuntarily conjuring up worst case scenarios in my mind, and planning (if ever I would need to) how I could jump off the taxi without getting killed. (OA eh noh?)

I hated every second of the longest 30-minute ride of my life!

Arggggghhh!!! Watch out for this taxi--PWY 732.

Citrus Tears

Citrus Tears




They say, "When life gives you lemons, make lemonade."

It's a metaphor for saying that even when life throws you the worst things, you have to learn to cope with it and make the best out of it. You can deal with the hurt, the loss, but in the end, all you have to do is keep the lessons you've learned and move on.

As I was peeling an orange a while ago, some of the juice squirts got into my eye, and they stung like hell. I couldn't see for a while, and I blinked over and over again, hoping to rub the sour substance away.

After a few seconds, tears started spilling from that eye and I couldn't help it. I simply rubbed the tears away, while still trying to see from my right eye. But, just as fast as it came, the pain subsided and went away.

The painful incident didn't tell me to stop eating or peeling oranges for myself. Instead, it taught me that when peeling oranges, distance must be kept.

The same goes for life.

When trials come your way, you can shed a few tears, take what you can and then, you move on. You must pick yourself from the dirt, or the dark, and then, go on living a little wiser.

I have learned much more today than making orange juice out of oranges.

...I've learned that crying eases the pain away.

"Poet" in Doubt

"Poet" in Doubt



Hummin': Twelve Day of Xmas

I had my FA105 Introduction to Creative Writing Class today. My professor, Danilo Franciso M. Reyes, required us to write on a sheet of paper about books that we've read recently and how we felt about them.

At first, I was confident. I was thinking, oh yeah, I've read a couple of books just last week so this is going to be easy, but then just as I tried to remember what the titles were, my mind drew a blank. I couldn't remember the names of the authors nor the titles of the books.

Not even the lead characters names were retrievable from my memory bank. I mean, I could remember the plot, but names just eluded me at that point. I kept thinking, how could I forget all that? Didn't I read all 800++ pages of each story?

Afterwards, Sir Reyes began asking us about our favorite authors. The class wasn't quite responding as he hoped. No one wanted to volunteer an answer, so he asked, "Does anyone look up to J.K. Rowling?" As an avid Harry Potter reader sitting at the very side of the class, I nodded my head vigorously.

But my response went unnoticed. He asked again, perplexed, "Has anyone in this class of Creative Writing majors read Harry Potter?"

Silence.

I raised my left hand and looked around. My hand was the only one up. I couldn't believe it, and apparently, he didn't see it either. His eyebrows shot up to his hairline at the thought that these supposedly "writers" or wannabes didn't read Harry Potter.

"Well," he says, "What about your favorite poets?" His questions were again met by downward gazes and blank, uncertain stares. "None?"

From the silence, I assumed the same. He adds, "It's actually called name-dropping. And it helps to shut people up when you mention particular poets and you make them realize that you've read a lot of literature." He shakes his head and says, "How can you write poems when you don't have any favorite poems that you read?"

From that point on, I began questioning myself, shutting all other noise out.

I felt like I was a driftwood in the middle of the ocean, floating aimlessly.

I had written a lot of poems over the years, some were lost, some I had saved in a journal; but I admit that I don't have any "great" poets that I idolize. I just never took a liking to reading poetry that held too much air. There are just poems that even after reading and analyzing each layer and line, I still don't understand. I tend to classfiy those kinds of poems as mental garbles, or elitists.

I truly believe that if you want to express your feelings, you would express it in the way that most people would understand. Wouldn't it be practical to let other people understand what you have to say? Not just other people, but ordinary people who wouldn't be intimidated by all the high-falluting words. Do we not write because we want to convey what we keep deep inside?

I left the class still confused. Some of the so-called "great" poets tend to do this, drown the readers in all their intelligence and limitless vocabulary, and that makes me dislike their work. Could there be something wrong with me, as one who aspires that level of greatness? Can I even call myself a real poet? Or will I ever truly be one?

Could my indifference to what I think most writers idolize signify I have less passion and less ambition than they do? Could the yo-yo-ing in my craft mean that I don't love reading, or more importantly, writing as much as I should?

Hmmm...

Cellular

Cellular



Hummin': Father & Son by Cat Stevens

I suspected upon entering the cinema, that Cellular would just be another thriller with a rehashed plot. But I was surprised to see that this movie actually surpassed all my expectations.

The blending of action, suspense and a little comedy was just in the right proportions such that the outcome was a very interesting movie that made the audience gasp and laugh at particular scenes.

The film starts off with Jessica sending off her son to school. Then, the typical kidnapping at home with mean-looking thugs killing off the housemaid happens, and they take Jessica and deposits her in an attic. The lead captor played by Jason Statham comes in and smashes the phone with a baseball bat (which, for the sake of the plot, leaves the phone shell-less and in pieces, but somehow maintains the dial tone.) Then, he questions her about the whereabouts of her husband and the location of the mysterious "thing."

What's unique about this movie is that it manages to keep the kidnappers' motives hidden. And what the audience suspects to be what the husband is NOT telling his wife is more than what it seems.

Kim Basinger as Jessica Martin delivered an effective portrayal of a mother trying to save her family, with only the connection to Chris Evans as Ryan as their last resort for salvation. Ryan after hearing the threats and screams from the other end of the line, takes on the superhero role in the film, doing everything he can to keep in contact with Jessica. This is where most of the "thrills" come in.

I have to end here, so that I won't spoil the movie for those who are still going to watch it.

In totality, I think that the movie is worth every minute of your time and every cent of your money. Plus, it has great eyecandy (See sample above) to boot. ~_^

Nosocomephobia

Nosocomephobia



Hummin': No Way Out by Phil Collins

I searched Google to look for the exact word that would embody all that I'm feeling right now. Here's what I've found: Nosocomephobia, refers to an abnormal and persistent fear of hospitals.

I have just been to a doctor, an old childhood friend of my mom who is an ob-gyne in UST that my mom met again in a highschool reunion after being out of touch in nearly thirty years. And even though she is so nice and polite, I really don't want to see her ever again.

Aside from the embarassment of having to expose myself under careful scrutiny, I suffered like a nervous wreck who went from fake, pasted smiles to shriveled frowns and mumbled complaints of "ow" and "ouch" in an instant.

Two minutes can last far longer than you think.

After looking inside me (think whatever you want to think), she tells me I'm fine. Then before leaving, I showed her the blood tests that came much earlier than expected, hoping and half-expecting to get a thumbs-up and a "you can go." But the smile was wiped off her face in an instant.

Apparently, my level of liver-something was much, much higher than normal. She says nothing else in the blood test results shows any sign of a complication, but usually, people with Hepatitis are the only ones who reach this level. To ease my probably shocked expression, she says there are some people who just naturally have higher levels.

BUT.

To be sure, she says I better get a blood test AGAIN and see her after I do. My mom retorted, "Again!?" and then looked at me with a smile, as if she had just successfully stolen a lollipop from my hand. (She knows just how much I dread needles.) Then, the doctor wrote an address and referred me to two specialists that I have to visit tomorrow.

Huhuhu...

Damn.

I'm currently in the process of developing severe Nosocomephobia.

Pincushion of Sorts

Pincushion of Sorts




I'm currently in pain. Nothing major, but still, in relative pain. I've had three long needles stuck into my right arm and two hands just this morning, because apparently, my veins are too small. So the nurse took the displeasure of having to take a couple of tries before finally hitting the mark.

OUCH.

I've just learned what a pincushion feels.

I never thought I was scared of needles. I thought my fears were limited to rats, lizards and the like. But when I saw the thin metal unwrapped, attached to the plastic suction thing and the nurse started swabbing my skin with alcohol, I felt my stomach tying into knots and my heartbeat rising to a quick rhythm.

I almost felt like crying. Those twenty minutes I spent inside the clinic felt like the longest twenty minutes of my life. I don't know why, but I never felt this way before about getting an injection though. Maybe it was sort of traumatic as a child, or maybe I just never allowed my fears to overcome me.

Despite the urge to cry for Mommy during that horrible time, I remained stoic, masking my fear with silence.

During the second try, which only ended up with another puncture on my arm and no success at that elusive vein, the nurse attempted to comfort me. She asked, "Painful?" a couple of times in what she felt like her sweetest, most sympathetic voice while she maneuvered the freaking needle inside me.

Looking back, if I wasn't wincing so much on that stinging pain, I probably would have rolled my eyes at her and say, "DUH!?" with a flair.

But on second thought, that would be rude, and I don't want to be ill-mannered, especially not when she's armed with the needle halfway inside my arm.

Pringles In Solitude

Pringles In Solitude





I'm supposed to be sleeping, dreaming of handsome guys or hair-raising monsters, but instead, I'm typing away on the keyboard, having only Salt and Vinegar Pringles for company. I figured it's already four-thirty in the morning and I have to be up by 6 anyway, so what's the use of sleeping?

Why so unbelievably early, you're probably wondering?

See, I have to be up by 6, at least three hours before my doctor's appointment. In a few hours' time, a freaky needle is going to be stuck on my arm and rust-smelling blood will be drawn out for tests.

I'm not sick, or at least, as far as I know. It's just that I've been having long lapses with what's supposed to be a monthly period and my mom's getting paranoid about the possible causes of this abnormality. When the normal routine should be raising the red flag monthly, I had actually undergone a 6-month drought. (Yes, I saved up a lot of money from not buying sanitary napkins.)

But I am getting scared, and what-if's are beginning to hound me with hypothetical scenarios that just makes everything doubly frightening.

Paranoia is ALWAYS contagious.

What if something has gone wrong? Something serious?

*Goosebumps*

I'm suffering from Early Morning Madness. Even my waking hours are now filled with nightmares.


PS: If anyone's interested, check out my friend's blog: Aether. I've been making her a Beatles layout around two hours ago and I'm nearly done. *wink*

Unappreciated

Unappreciated



Hummin': Last Thing On My Mind by Ronan Keating/Leann Rhimes

I've done everything you asked me to do today. I've been fixing and rearranging stuff just to make you happy. But what was the first thing you notice? Did you notice that I've been following orders since morning? Did you notice that I've accomplished a lot today? Did you notice that I've been working hard today despite the fact that I should be enjoying my first day of academic freedom?

NO.

All you said when you saw me sitting down for a while was, "Hindi ka na nagbago..."

I was hurt. I wanted to scream back, "Sinusubukan na nga eh. Pero nakikita mo ba? " I was pissed off. I really feel as though nothing I do will ever suffice. I've NEVER been good enough. Sounds cliche-ish, but in my case, it's true.

I once poured out my sadness to you, crying about the world's injustice and how I felt so deprived. I took a risk. I opened my heart, wanting to find someone who would understand and feel my pain. I thought you would.

Did you say things will get better? Did you hug me to share my burden? Did you even attempt to comfort me with "it's not your fault?"

No. You made me feel that I deserve all the bad things that come my way. You made me feel like I'm the lowest living creature in the world. I could see my confidence melting into a puddle right under my feet. You make me want to puke at myself.

And yet, you ask why I used to hate you so much?

Maybe you shouldn't ask. Maybe you should look in the mirror and see how hard it is to love you.

What do YOU think?

Background Preference



Hummin': Survivor by Destiny's Child

I'm having this small dilemma of whether or not this new, gray and blue background looks better than the last one. So, here are my five most favorite backgrounds. I've taken the looks of previous backgrounds and uploaded them. Just click on the names to see the pictures.

MY TOP 5:
1. My Muse
2. Grays & Blue
3. Fly Free
4. Daddy's Girl
5. Free Butterfly

Please vote for which one you think looks the best. Thanks!

Round & Round We Go...

Round & Round We Go...



Hummin': Two Worlds by Phil Collins

Life's never fair...I guess.

Most of the time, I whine and rant all day about how my day went ballistic, especially during those times where I had fallen victim to injustice or had been destined to a cruel fate. Those are the days that I really couldn't stop bitching about certain instruments used by God to teach me a lesson.

Feeling ko kasi aping-api ako.

However, there are certain days that I find myself undeserving of a gift, yet right in front of me is one of life's presents being offered to lucky ol' me on a silver platter for no reason at all. A blessing for ME?! I respond with one word: surreal.

I hurriedly look out the window, wondering if something has happened to the planetary alignments and if the world's going to end. Yet, I discover that the world still spins on its unfair and imbalanced axis.

What's surprising though is that I find myself on the benefactor's side.

Does this mean that the world really is *gasp* round? And that no matter how many times I go under and get rolled over flat by the world, I will still manage to find myself standing on top and waving my flag victoriously, even for a few stolen moments of bliss?

I see skeptic looks.

Will this obvious mistake in the cosmos cause my fortune to change forever?

HAH! Dream on, you say.

Yeah? Well, I will. Because as long as I keep dreaming, I know I will find my way to the top, no matter how hard the climb.

Sugar Deprived

Sugar Deprived



Hummin': Haven't been singing.

I'm down.

I haven't left the house in two days. I've been sitting here, warming my plastic monoblock chair in front of the computer screen for two straight days. I'm starting to get back pain and eye strain from all the studying (and chatting and blogging) that I've been doing.

And if there is such a thing as guzzling down too much Orange Juice, I think this is the case. I've been craving for some sweets, maybe to boost me up with some sugar in my system and get my batteries running, but I haven't been succesful. Our cupboards are all empty and everyone's too busy to go pick up groceries. Plus, naughty phantom ghosts have been nabbing my notes and hiding them in places I didn't remember putting them in.

ARGH.

I'm just bored. I don't like studying, especially not Theology and most DEFINITELY NOT Philosophy. So, I'm forcing myself to memorize, understand, imbibe the words of saints and priests wisely spoken eons ago... Why the torture, Father, why?!? Que Horror!

I'm just hoping that maybe, if Fate decides to be nicer tomorrow, I might just pass this test.

Why am I writing like a scatterbrained twit?

That's because I am.




Dun-dun-dun-dun.


...To Theology and beyooooooonnnd...

Feeloshofee

Feeloshofee



Hummin': Color Everywhere by Youth Asylum

$%*#@$%@#$*#%@$@*%$@#@*%@#$%$
$%*#@$%@#$*#%@$@*%$@#@*%@#$%$
$%*#@$%@#$*#%@$@*%$@#@*%@#$%$
$%*#@$%@#$*#%@$@*%$@#@*%@#$%$
$%*#@$%@#$*#%@$@*%$@#@*%@#$%$
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Whew.

Glad that I've gotten that over with. See, I've spent more than 24 hours just pouring sweat and tears over today's Philosophy oral examination. I've been reading, reviewing and philosophizing over 21 really intense and condensed pages that Rae and I slaved over preparing for six hours straight.

I really have been saturating my head with all sorts of "existing OR not-existing" philosophical crap that I know I won't really use after college. But I did it all, because I have a pretty good chance of maintaining a relatively high grade in that subject. (Plus, we're required to take the same Philo teacher next semester. So it was very important to give a fairly good impression of my worth as a student.)

*Inhales deeply*

Well, now I have no choice but to say goodbye to that grade I worked so hard to get. I just messed my whole oral examination with my staggering lines and muddled reasoning. Out of the 14 thesis paragraphs we were given, I happened to randomly pick the WORST one of the lot. I picked the one I understood the LEAST. And now, I'm paying for it.

I feel like I've been robbed.

My mom's rubbing it in, saying I can't blame anyone else because I haven't been the most diligent student this whole semester. And I guess, in a way she's right. I've never been the student who studies a week before the test. I cram it all in the night before and make sure I don't sleep until I know I can answer even just half of the testpaper the next day.

Fate always finds a way to get back at me, making me realize life will never be a breeze, biting a chunk off my ass when I least expect it. I should've known it is inevitable to happen. Life never stays at a stable plateau.



But why does it have to HURT so damn much!?!

Cast PartY

Cast PartY


Feelin': Itchy
Hummin': Color Everywhere by Christian Bautista

Yes, it was last friday, yups, about 48 hours ago.
Yes, it is the weekend before the finals.
Yes, I do have an oral exam on Philosophy tomorrow.
Yes, I do have to cram it all in before lunch tomorrow.
Yes, I said I don't drink, but I guess I do now.
Yes, the late hours made my eyes puffier than they already are.
Yes, I slept over Ina's house and bonded with the other girls.
Yes, I was scratching more that usual when I woke up.
Yes, I found out that I do have allergic rashes all over me.
Yes, it is itchy and uncomfortable.
Yes, it was because of the liquor.
Yes, it was embarassing to win "most likely to get married first" award.

And...

YES, it was a damn good party!!!

Thanks Ina for letting us sleep over!

Second Chances

Second Chances




Not everyone gets a second chance at something that they fail to do. Sometimes, life just won't allow you to redeem yourself, even if you drop to your knees, walk that way for a hundred miles and bawl your eyes out. But in rather rare occasions, a person is fortunate to be granted or presented with another opportunity to undo a wrong, or at least, restore what once was.

I've learned lessons through perplexing acts of fate what it feels like to be granted a second chance, even when I know deserve it the least. It feels as though fresh, cold water has been handed to you while you're traveling in a desert at the point that your tongue feels as rough and as dry as the burning sand. It made me want to smile and hug everyone.

Refreshing, awakening, rejuvenating.

I figured, the least I can do is repair as much of the damage as I possibly can. I will probably leave a mark, a scar of my wrongdoing, but I thought, I could go to the drug store, buy Sebo de Macho and maybe lighten it a bit.

Stress Relievers

Stress Relievers



Hummin': I'm Your Angel by Celine Dion

Wife: You always carry my photo in your handbag to the office. Why?

Hubby: When there is a problem, no matter how impossible, I look at your picture and the problem disappears.

Wife: You see, how miraculous and powerful I am for you?

Hubby: Yes, I see your picture and say to myself, "What other problem can there be greater than this one?"

*****

A newly married man asked his wife, "Would you have married me if my father hadn't left me a fortune?"

"Honey," the woman replied sweetly, "I'd have married you NO MATTER WHO LEFT YOU A FORTUNE!"

*****

"How was your blind date?" a college student asked her roommate.

"Terrible!" the roommate answered. "He showed up in his 1932 Rolls Royce."

"Wow! That's a very expensive car. What 's so bad about that?"

"He is the original owner."

*****

Interviewer to Millionaire: To whom do you owe your success as a millionaire?"

Millionaire: "I owe everything to my wife."

Interviewer: "Wow, she must be some woman. What were you before you married her?"

Millionaire: "A Billionaire."

*****

Well, that was a nice break from pounding my head with Philosophy! I've written three papers last night and today I have around 3 left to go! Haha! What a fun life this is!

Intellectual Connection?

Intellectual Connection?



Hummin': Accidentally In Love by Counting Crows

WARNING: Turn off all malicious radars before proceeding.

A recent lengthy conversation with a good friend of mine had brought some questions to mind. Both of us often engage in long chats because we watch the same movies, like the same series and reality shows and meet at a certain level of commonality.

And that made me shift to my "love-doctor" mode and ask, would it be better to be physically attracted to a person of the opposite sex or be intellectually compatible with him?

I mean, sure, if you get both, then DON'T LET HIM GO! But if you have to choose between the two, which one priority would outweigh the other? For certain, being physically attracted to a person can bring you goosebumps, cheesy smiles, touchy-feelies and all that *P.D.A. whenever you're around him. But then, having that same intellectual wavelength can keep you entertained, fascinated and growing in knowledge even for hours and hours with just sitting, talking and sharing thoughts with that person.

If I were to choose between the two extremes, I honestly wouldn't know which one to choose either. Would I go for the trophy guy that I can parade to my girlfriends or would I rather have someone to actually converse with during dinner?

Well, I could say it's not the outside but rather the inside, or what's "up there" that counts. But let's all cut the crap and admit it, even though we can claim that "LOOKS doesn't matter," it does...even to the littlest extent. (Who'd want to be with someone they can't even look at? Forgive that moment of harshness.)

I would end this entry to leave you with some brain candy to last you awhile, and get back to me with your thoughts, alright? As for me, well tonight just before drifting off to my own planet, I'll just have to pray to God and beg him to give me someone who'd fit right in between. *wink*




*P.D.A. = Public Displays of Affection.

Grandma Turns 73

Grandma Turns 73



Hummin': Touch of Faith by Joy Williams

It's cold. There's a breeze in the closed room coming from the air conditioner that's been running for more than an hour. Despite the chilly temperature, I am sweating. I can feel beads of sweat forming on my nose, forehead and back. I sit on the edge of the sofa, not wanting to get too close.

She sits across me, her floral blouse clinging onto her frail body. She has lost so much weight since I last saw her. My heart aches. What could be bothering her now? Did I really want to know? Maybe if I listen, I can help her carry the burden.

Her recently separated son, who has three kids with his ex-wife, she says, is moving in with a single mom with three kids. He took no heed of the advice she lavished on him. He just wouldn't listen to her pleas not to leave his family. He turned a blind eye to the tears that flowed down her sagging cheeks. He left.

She talks about her three grandchildren with such fondness I can almost see pink fluff forming in thin air. I ask her how often she gets to see them. She shrugs sadly, saying their mother did not like the children sleeping over with grandma too often. For a minute, my heart is filled with hatred towards her for depriving this sweet old woman of the very things that make her truly happy. But then I realized...she must be afraid her children might leave her too.

There is a silent pause. She gestures for me to take a drink from the glass of juice she had the maid brought in. I gulp down the sweet liquid, but something remained lodged in my throat, making it hard to speak, or even breathe.

I point out her immense weight loss, asking if she has been taking care of herself. She explains she hasn't been getting much sleep for a couple of weeks. A one or two hour nap was all her body could manage to do, without her mind calling her back to the merciless cruelty of reality.

Then, as if surrendering to defeat, she bows her head and I could hear her stifled whimpering, her sobs growing stronger by the second, racking her whole body. I cross the distance between us in two, quick strides and envelop her in the warmest embrace I could give.

Wiping her tears with tissue, she begins apologizing profusely for crying in front of me, but I will not hear of it. She cannot always be stoic, a firm, unmoving rock to which everyone anchored upon. It is too much of a Herculean task for one person alone. I let her cry some more, her tears seeping through the deep yellow of my blouse. I hold her, reassuring her of my presence and in those brief moments, sharing her pain.

I raise my hand only to discover my own cheeks are wet with tears.

But I cry not because he left his family for another one. I cry not for the children who would suffer from their father's abandonment. I cry not for the wife who now has to play two roles in three young lives. I cry not out of pity, nor embarrassment.

I cry, because I hold in my arms the strongest woman I know.

And she's broken.

The Battle of Bull Run...

The Battle of Bull Run Always Makes Me Cry



Hummin': Temporary Madness by Jodie Wilson

Yes, that long title is the name of the play I'm directing. As you can see from my previous posts, I can't help thinking or talking about this play, but bear with me for a week more and then I'll probably be back to my normal (GASP.) self.

This play is about a 24-year-old Donna who meets up with her two girlfriends, Linda and Amy in a cafe to "report" about her date with Patrick, a cute guy, just an hour before. As she narrates what happens, the date itself is simultaneously shown in the opposite side of the stage, and she goes in and out of the date scene while Patrick acts as though nothing wrong is happening. (Astig diba?)

The people I've casted to act in this play are all my friends who I'm very grateful to, for putting up with all the rehearsals. THIS PLAY IS THE BOMB! The dialogues are really funny and witty. They're the kind that you'd hear in movies like Legally Blonde or any romantic comedy. Plus, I've witnessed my talented friends pull it off, so surely they will fill the theatre with laughter and "awwws" on Monday.

*KILIG*

And yes, there is a LIVE kissing scene between Donna and Patrick.

*DOUBLE KILIG*

After our last rehearsal just hours ago and all the arrangements I've done to complete the props for the set design, I do believe that we're ready for a talent showcase on Monday. Among all that I've done, I think this will be the best one yet. Wish me lotsa luck!

Golden Card Holder

Golden Card Holder



Hummin': Measure of a Man by Clay Aiken

My mom turned 50 yesterday. Her friend called up and said she's now officially a GOLDEN GIRL, but my mom shook her head and retorted, "No, I'm not. I'm a golden card holder!"

Happy birthday Momsie!!!

...................

About me:

*For all who would care, I had my hair dyed last Sunday. It's not noticeable unless I'm very near a light source though.

*Rehearsals are going even better than ever! I think we just need a little bit more polishing and then we'll be ready to go! Whoohoo!!! Can't wait!

*Over-all assessment of this week: NOT A TOTAL LOSS. I see brighter days ahead!

My 150th Post

My 150th Post


Hummin': Cry by Mandy Moore

Wow, my 150th post. Can't believe I've had this much to say! LOL!

Hmm...so far, I've only been updating on the wassup's of my life, since I really don't have that much leisure surfing and blogging time. Here's the gist of my week.

1. Been rehearsing the 10-minute play for my Directing Class finals. I've got 4 out of the 5 cast members rehearsing. So far, so good...a little tweaking is still in need, but I think we're getting there. Slow, but steady. *wink*

2. Been reading this book, by someone Roberts entitled "Ghost Moon." A good read actually, and I was surprised to find that much juicy content in a 99-peso book. (Sale sa Natio eh!) Look for it when you have the spare time.

3. Been trying and frustrating myself over drawing. Really, it's a bad thing to take up, because I just can't accept the fact that I suck at it. Argh. Reality bites. But I will give it a few more tries, if I really don't improve, well, back at doodling.

4. Been fussing the guy who's helping out with my PC repairs. I am sooo missing my internet and my computer! Without much of my free time being spent in front of a monitor, I find myself burning holes into the TV instead...and disappointedly watching crappy re-runs on ETC. (Damnit! For Love or Money 2's season finale has been replayed for a dozen times already! Growl.)

5. Been troubling over the props and illustrations I need for my directorial debut. (Waaah, kapal!) Hehe. But really, if anyone's interested, drop by in ADMU's Gonzaga Fine Arts Theatre, G306, on September 27 and 29. There are 7 short plays running on both dates. I will be presenting my obra maestra on the 27th. To those who took time to read as far this sentence, please pray for my presentation. TY.

Drowning

Drowning



Hummin': Tuwing Umuulan at Kapiling Ka by E-heads

Haaaay...I'm neck deep with things to do and worse, things to think about. I'm currently stressing over Philosophy, Theology and o'course, my Directing Class. Hay nako. I think I'm stuck with the image of mediocrity, but don't ask any more info because that will just get me steaming over what happened in the last meeting.

My eyebags' bags have swollen to marshmallow-like puffiness. Plus, they're getting darker as more stressing nightmarish nights pass by. Damn. I'm missing all the blogging too. I don't have internet at home, and currently, no computer too. So what's a girl to do but cry it out with movies just to get all the overwhelming chaos of emotions out of my system.

Damn, I'm emotional these past few days.

Inhales. Exhales.

Whoosh...

Yes, that is me running off for my Theology long exam.

I hope all of you are faring better, much much better.

Life, O Life

Life, O Life.



Hummin': Here I am by Bryan Adams

Sometimes I find myself wanting to just crawl into a hole and disappear forever. Other times, I'd wish for an all-granting genie who'd make all my dreams come true and chase all my troubles away. And on rare and seemingly hopeless cases, I contemplate on suicide. (God forbid!)

But what is it that makes life so interesting?

It's that when you actually get through that particular rut you're in, it's like you've taken a drug of some sort and you just feel so 'HIGH' up there. I mean, you forget all about the hell you've gone through and you'd just want to scream 'hurray' and 'yahoooiiieey' all day.

But then, again those moments of pure bliss are just that--MOMENTS. Next thing you know, you're slaving over another long list of things to do before the deadline gets there first.

So what's my point? Well, I just wanted to share my brief encounter with contentment and happy, happy, joy, joy. Because I know, the moment I post this entry, I zoom back into reality and then I'll have no choice but to face all the shitty things in life again.

But until then, I'm squeezing all the happiness in this moment...up to the very last drop.




(Reality beckons and unfortunately, I still have no internet at home. Grr.)

I'm back...but, not really.

I'm back...but, not really.


Feelin': Swamped
Hummin': Nuthin'

Here I am, back where those without money for internet prepaid cards or those who have huge breaks with nothing to do with too much time, goes. Yes, I am mooching off the school computer lab.

I really am suffering from internet withdrawal. Unfortunately, this is also one of those hellish school weeks where tests are lining up one after the other. So, being internet-less is a huge HANDICAP especially when people exchange information and test schedules ONLINE.

Grrr. What's more, with Philo and Theo orals on the side, I am in for some sleepless nights ahead.

Sigh.

When will the torture end?

Shit. I need actors for my scene and I have less than two weeks! Gaddemit!

See how I'm already fretting? Fretting, pimplets and constant worrying are symptoms of one thing: PANIC. I am currently bordering on that state of being, so pardon me for schizophrenic outbursts in the near future.

It's part of who I am. (Hehehe!)

Internet Withdrawal

Internet Withdrawal



Feelin': Damn annoyed.


Damn PLDT's DSL! Where's that promise of unlimited internet?! I keep getting these breaks, about once in every two or three months where my internet connection at home would malfunction and I'd have an internet-less week!

Damn it.

Why would we pay two thousand five hundred something bucks per month if we're getting these lapses!?

Promise-breakers!

Grrr.

Afternoon Chikahan

Afternoon Chikahan



Hummin': Stuck by Stacie Orrico

*Ice and I had another one on one girl talks yesterday, the kind that makes you want to spend the whole day just sitting and talking. It was soothing, relaxing after another day of battling wits with professors and tests.

(An excerpt from memory. Will not be the exact conversation, but it would be close enough.)

"Hay nako. Ayoko na...hanapan mo na'ko ng iba!" she said with much passion after her anecdotes about someone.

"Wag na. It would just be a waste of time and effort," was my reply. "Sinasabi mo lang naman 'yan eh."

"Haha! You know me so well." She was impressed.

"Yeah, I know you that well. Bakit nanaman ba?" I asked, preparing myself for another barrage of complaints. (Women do that a lot.)

"Hindi ko alam... Naiinis ako sa kanya! Ayoko maging ganito, puro siya na lang iniisip ko."

"Sus...gumagawa ka nanaman ng sarili mong problema! Ano ka ba? Tinataboy mo tapos hinahanap mo. Tsk tsk tsk." The Doctor Love side of mine was slowly reappearing.

"Ehh...Nami-miss ko siya. Hindi ako sanay na hindi ko siya nakakausap. Ginayuma akooo!" came her whine.

"Pwede ba? Ako, ako ang ginayuma. Ikaw, nalilito ka. Hindi mo alam kung meron kayong patutunguhan, pero alam mong may something. Diba? Kahit pakiramdaman?" I ask, and she nods.

"Eh ako?" I continued, "I'm hoping, hanging onto something, someone, I'm not even officially friends with. Imagine me telling someone about him and then that person asks, how do you know him so well? What would I say? Uhmm, through second and third-hand information!? Now, who's more pathetic?" The self-pity was rubbing off on me. "I'm hanging onto nothing..."

"Hehe...onga noh. Anu bang meron kasi siya?" she asks. The topic has been shifted to me.

"Ewan ko. Binunutan 'ata ako ng buhok eh tapos pinakulam ako." I was trying to lighten the mood, but really, it's obviously darkening. "Ang tagal na nito. Hindi na nakakatawa. Ako yata ang dapat mong hanapan ng bago."

I love you Blogspot!

I love you Blogspot!



Hummin': Queer Eye Theme Song

Did you all notice that my banner's gone now? Yups, the lovable Blogger Team had taken it away after I requested them to. Whoohoo! Now I can place whichever background pic that would suit my mood!

HURRAH and Mabuhay to the Blogger Team!!! :D


Thank you!!!

Heinakuh

Heinakuh




Hummin': Stuck by Stacie Orrico

Hay buhay...

Bakit ba laging hindi sapat ang mga mayroon ka sa buhay?

Oo nga't mayroong makakain, matitirahan, magagastos, subalit palaging kulang pa rin. Kailan nga ba matatagpuan ang kaligayahang tatapatan ang lahat ng iyong naisin? Mayroon nga bang ganito o isa lamang itong guni-guning pumupuno sa walang katapusang pagiging sakim ng tao? Ito ba ay isang malayong pangarap o isang ilusyong nagdadala ng mapanlinlang na pag-asa?

Sa bawat biyayang natatanggap, napapangiti tayo at nagpapasalamat sa Poong Maykapal. Subalit, makaraan ang isang oras o limang minuto, nalilimutan na natin ang pangyayari at naghahanap nanaman tayo ng mas magagarang bagay. Hindi ba't ito ang totoong nangyayari sa ating mga buhay?

Mayroon bang hangganan ang ating tila walang katapusang mga kagustuhan?

O patuloy lang tayong gumagalaw sa bawat araw na magdadaan, magtratrabaho, magsisikap at susubuking abutin ang mga bituin kahit kailan ma'y hindi natin maaangkin?

Ignorant Fool

Ignorant Fool


Hummin': Leave by Jojo (LSS na 'to!)

"Ignorance is bliss," many had said. I was one who benefited from the same saying. I do believe that in some cases, what you don't know won't really hurt you because you are innocent, or yeah, the more negative word, IGNORANT. But then, as always, not everyone has the same say on this.

Let me tell you where all the fuss is steaming from. See, a female mood-swinger had just ruined my fine day. Apparently, for her, ignorance is a sin. I mean, she's blaming me for something that I didn't know existed. How could I be accused of indifference and apathy when I didn't know there were two sides to even choose from?

I'm tired of being the one at fault. It seems that everything that goes wrong is my fault. I'm only human and I'm flawed just like you. Stop thinking that I'm evil inside, because saying I am, just makes me want to become one (and then scare you out of your wits).

I'm pissed. (And the stubborn nagging doesn't help either.)

I mean, come on. Think rationally and don't just explode on me like you do every single time you feel miserable. You don't have to make things worse by turning other people against you just because you're like a hurricane that wrecks everything in its path.

I understand your pain, really I do. But please, try to understand me too.

Kids Say The Darnest Things

Kids Say The Darnest Things




Hummin': Leave (Get Out) by Jojo

ELDERLY

While working for an organization that delivers lunches to elderly shut-ins, I used to take my 4-year-old daughter on my afternoon rounds. She was unfailingly intrigued by the various appliances of old age, particularly the canes, walkers and wheelchairs. One day I found her staring at a pair of false teeth soaking in a glass.

As I braced myself for the inevitable barrage of questions, she merely turned and whispered, "The tooth fairy will never believe this!"


SCHOOL

A little girl had just finished her first week of school. "I'm just wasting my time," she said to her mother. "I can't read, I can't write and they won't let me talk!"


BIBLE

A little boy opened the big family bible. He was fascinated as he fingered through the old pages. Suddenly, something fell out of the Bible. He picked up the object and looked at it. What he saw was an old leaf that had been pressed in between the pages. "Mama, look what I found," the boy called out. "What have you got there, dear?" his mother asked.

With astonishment in the young boy's voice, he answered, "I think it's Adam's underwear."


I LOOOOOOOVE KIDS!!!

I plead GUILTY

I plead GUILTY



Hummin': Sukob Na by 17:28

One look at you and my smile fades away.

Your presence that used to elicit fluttering butterflies now summons hordes of elephants inside my stomach. The smile that used to turn my knees to jelly and transform me into a funny bungling idiot now reduces me to a pathetic coward, eating at my confidence, feeding on my insecurities. The voice that used to soothe my thoughts now distracts, piercing in and out of my mind like an unrelentless broken player.

It's no longer fun.

I have prayed, consulting the Highest Being for guidance and an ounce of wisdom. He has not failed me.

Somehow, pouring out my doubts to Him has always lifted the burdens that I carry. It was no surprise that when I woke up today, I felt refreshed, and things were a lot clearer. My rationale is a bit more condensed and my faith, a whole lot stronger.

I sit here now, almost too ashamed to write this down and reveal what I've long been denying. I have withheld , lied, and understated about my 'shallow' feelings and yet deep inside, I knew that they were rooted underground, digging deeper as time passed, farther than I had led everyone else to believe.

Yet, when I think of how it started, grew and developed, both my hands come up with nothing. For not even my perpetually-analyzing-dangerously-paranoid-side had managed to keep it at bay, like I always do when I began to fall "in like." Somehow, it had found my loophole and lodged itself, unnoticed, where I could not detect it until it became too strong to be easily removed.

My acute instincts have failed me.

But no more will you standing high and mighty on the pedestal I've built for you. I refuse to be enslaved by cultivated emotions just for the sake of having "someone." I just don't want to remain hanging on hopes and what-ifs that will never be realized. My efforts would only be futile.

I know now that owning up to feelings that I swore I didn't have would be the first step on the progressive chart of moving on.

Ironically though, admitting you're GUILTY would make actually make you GUILT-FREE. (And it feels so damn good.)

Good Week

Good Week


Hummin': Here We Are by Bryan Adams

Let me just say that my week went well.

For one who complains about every little bad thing that happens, well, consider this a very very seldom occurence. Hehehehe. I mean, I actually didn't have anything happen to me in order to wreck my whole week. Plus I'm learning to do my nails and toenails.

So far, so good.

Thank you God!

Family Perks

Family Perks



Hummin': This I Swear By Nick Lachey

I had one of the best Ladies Nights ever last night. (Ladies Night is an exclusive night wherein only the 3 girls in our family spend much-enjoyed quality time.) We spent about 3 hours of just idle beautification. Mom made me feel like a queen. Hehehe. But the thing I loved the most was just soaking our feet in a warm footbath and then coating them with Petroleum Jelly before covering them with cling wrap.

Ahhh, this is the life.

But what's even more fun is the bonding we shared, reminscing over our younger days. Days where my sister and I would try to kill each other for a piece of candy or who sits in the middle of the car. Days where Mom would order us to take an afternoon nap and my sis and I would muss our hair and with half-lidded eyes lie our way out of it by saying we had taken the nap already. (Sneaky, sneaky)

My mom related to us stories we couldn't even remember. She told us of how sly I was and how I always tricked my older sister into doing things for me. (oops) And she told us of how my sister MUST always look good everytime we go out even as a mere toddler; (well, that didn't change) while I was happy in my old shirt, pajamas and unmatched slippers just as long as I could come along.

Time flies by so fast...and I didn't realize how our relationships changed for the better over the years.

It's fun to just spend time with family members, especially when everyone's in an oddly happy mood. Looking back to the past, we were all reminded of the love that held our family steadfast and strong despite all the disasters we've encountered, collided and sometimes, looked for. It must be something in our blood that connects us to each other that no matter what mistakes we commit, we'd still be able to forgive each other and get right back on track.

As they say, when you think you have no one else, you have family.

Though sometimes I tend to complain about how we'd get on each other's nerves, I think of the past nineteen years of my life and I smile. Because despite our family being obviously dysfunctional, I'm proud to say that in some good days, I think we get pretty close to PERFECT.

Goodbye Potentials

Regrets: G'bye Potentials


Hummin':

Reading Akira's blog entries...and watching Magpakailanman has led me to go back walking on my own memory lane. I started feeling sentimental and that almost always equals to blogging.

Sigh, see what I mean?

I remember so many potentials who I've let go of without even giving them the slightest chance of a 'what if.' It's as if I felt as though I was caught in between two different choices. Giving a chance means creating some sort of expectation, but then, not giving them a wee chance makes me a snob. See how retarded I am?

By thinking about it rather than acting on instincts, I think most of them just thought I was more of the snob rather than the confused girl that I am. My lack of decisiveness has lost me some of those friendships too. I felt awkward and uncomfortable, and I decided to play hide 'n' seek, without informing them I was hiding, of course.

Bad move. I know.

Then again, it's over. Maybe I was meant to learn from all of them.

But the big question would be...DID I?


Choppy thoughts, I apologize to those who care to read this far. But it's midnight. I'm in the middle of a transformation. Ah, who cares?! I shouldn't even be blogging when I have a long test tomorrow!

When will I learn?

When will I learn?


Hummin': Oklahoma by Billy Gilman

When will I learn not to trust everyone?

When will I learn to put my foot down?

When will I learn to take the initiative?

When?

I was watching Spiderman 2 last Sunday night when he called me up to tell me I needed to find another actor for the next day's performance. I rushed out of the cinema only to hear him say that he hasn't memorized the monologue yet. After the phone call, I texted him to say "Cge, thanks anyway." He replied, "HAHA so tuloy pa b?" I texted back, "EWAN KO...r u up for it? Kung hindi, wag na lang...Mabubuhay naman ako eh. Babawi nalang ako sa ibang tests. Baka nasira na bday mo. Sorry for the hassle... (BLAH BLAH)"

Spiderman 2 was perhaps one of the most miserable movies I've watched. I didn't enjoy the rest of the movie. I couldn't cry at the emotional scenes for I felt that if I cried, I was crying over my actor. And no, my pride just wouldn't let me cry. So I held it all in even though I felt like being squished by a giant hand.

Monday night came and I came face to face with my director/teacher, Yanny. And that was the only time I almost panicked. Tears were brimming in my eyes when he asked me where my actor was and I told him, he wasn't coming. He said, "Are you shittin' me?" And I wanted to cry right then and there despite the sheepish smile that masked my face. But I pulled it off, thanks to Jean Pierre. (I owe you.)

Today, I felt half-relieved and half-depressed over the events that happened yesterday. Everyone said I shouldn't take this all sitting down. But I did.

Everyone could hardly believe that the actor I had personally picked and praised to do my monologue backed-out at the last minute. I guess I couldn't complain... After all, the day before the performance was his birthday and he said that he wouldn't touch the script. I guess you can say he fulfilled what he said...at least, for that one.

My friends said, "Hindi ka dapat nagpaganoon." They said he was an asshole. They said bastos siya. They asked for his name and said they'd give him a piece of their minds.

But, I told them, NO. I'd rather just end it like this. I guess, I felt numb. Like I really wasn't that angry, yet I wasn't happy either.

And I went through the day with mangled thoughts. Thoughts that didn't make much sense. I couldn't even understand all the stuff I was reading for Philosophy, because I just couldn't concentrate.

Then, Hanniel asked me the big question, "ARE YOU OKAY? YOU LOOK DEPRESSED."

I said, "No, I've never been depressed." And he stressed that he's never seen me looking like this. I didn't even realize that I was falling way short of my smile quota. Imagine, I can't even make up what emotion was running inside of me. Everything was just jumbled and confused. Chaotic, even.

How many times has he ruined my day?

Hmm... since highschool? MANY.

Have I been bullied?

I guess.

Am I crying?

*sniff...*

NOooo.

J-E-R-K

J-E-R-K



Hummin': Hands to Heaven by Christian Bautista

Why I trouble myself with being guilty over saying some "negative" things over a person who deserves MUCH MORE bitching is beyond me. I mean, I keep calling myself an insensitive bitch for accidentally letting it slip that I'm sort of doubting him and for what?!

For NOTHING.

I mean, I try my best to be as nice as I can. I try to deflect camouflaged-insults, ignore annoying side comments and pretend that all is fine. Then again, I am only human. I have my limitations and dude, you're stepping on the very line.

My patience is wearing thin and this mask of tolerance is cracking at the sides. So if you would rather keep a "friend" rather than gain another (maybe it wouldn't matter because I know tons who HATE you) opponent, I say, "WATCH IT." If you can't, just be civil, polite even. Know where you are standing and keep your toes from other people's personal space. That's RUDE.

Man, I really try to see the good in every person. And if you ask a mutual friend of ours, you'd know I've spoken good things of you, things others would've overlooked and rather focused on your swelling ego. But I always thought you had a good side. Have you lost it?

I don't want to sound righteous, but, dude, I'm nice. Appreciate it while it lasts.

I might just snap one day and force you to recognize what you've become. Your reflection would only be spelled in four letters: J-E-R-K.

Err, I have just received an objection. *Ice says it can be spelled with this too: A-$-$-H-*-L-E.

You've been warned.

I'm Screwed.

I'm Screwed.



Hummin': Ho-hum

I'm getting stressed. Really.

I haven't felt the full impact of the semester yet, but already, I feel like I'm old and brittle, easy to break. Ask Chika, she's been with me in my Theo class and she saw how my teacher apparently had taken a liking at calling my name for recitation in every class. It's odd really, how sometimes I create a negative impression and my teacher automatically dislikes me (*cough* MALLY *cough*). So for a change, I thought well, why not create a good impression to carry me through the semester?

See where it got me?!

I must've seemed like a nice, attentive miss smarty-pants to my Theo teacher. Hence, the regular attention. I must tell you, I don't like it one bit. If only you knew how I stare back, idiotic, clueless and embarassed, to most of the questions he asks me, you will understand.

Then, there's my biggest problem as of the moment. I have mentioned my directing class, the one where I'm supposed to direct a monologue, a scene study and then, for finals, a one-act play. The thing is, the monologue is on Monday. Yes, this Monday...and the actor I have gotten, is sort of cramming his lines.

I really don't want to push him because I know he's already doing a huge favor for me. And I trust his ability (he's a very good actor) to deliver the monologue, but the memorization part, I'm afraid with the minimal time he has left, he might not be able to cram it all in. I'm afraid, yes, I really am.

For the rest of the workload hanging on my back, I'd rather say they're still manageable (yeah, that's like the understatement of the year), because really, this school knows how to "deal" with the students to keep us on our toes. And if you don't, well, by the end of this year, hundreds will again bid farewell.

Take it from me, freshmen. If you think your load is heavy, wait 'til next year.

And that's not a threat. More like a piece of advice. *wink*

Chronic Constipation

Chronic Constipation



Hummin': What do you get when you fall in love...(LSS)

Sigh.

I'm presently frustrated with my own feelings. I mean, most of the time, other than happiness or giddyness, all of my other emotions remain pent-up inside of me unless I get really mad that I couldn't hold it in. Most of the times when I felt embarassed, disappointed, troubled, and even insanely jealous, no one else would remember because I had kept them all under a mask.

But the titanic effort that I put in just to keep in control, it's terribly frustrating, especially when no one seems to understand.

AND the reason why no one seems to understand is because no one even KNOWS.

Argh.

See how I make my own life complicated? It's times like these that I wish I could be someone else...

Do me a favor, get a damn wrench and crack me open!!!

Fully-Booked Weekend

Fully-Booked Weekend



Hummin': Dirty Girl by Rob Mills

There were (technically) no classes last friday and what did I do? I went out with friends to celebrate two recent birthdays in Eastwood. Aside from pigging out (blueberry cheesecake at Fazzoli's...), I also bought a pair of "silver" dangling earrings that was handpicked by a guyfriend over another choice. LoL! At the strike of midnight, I went home.

Saturday came. Instead of sleeping in like I often do on Saturdays, Rae and I went to Greenhills to (OUCH) shop. Shop, shop, shop, lunch with Choi, met with She, shop, shop and shop again. My wallet and feet are still hurting.

Additional pirated DVD's:
Notting Hill, My Bestfriend's Wedding, Mystic River, Sorority Boys, Along Came Polly, (All time fave) Face-Off, Secret Window.

I woke up at 8:45 AM on Sunday (giant YAWN) and was compelled to go to the reunion in Alabang where none of my close cousins were even present. The only exciting things were the four chapters of The Two Towers I had finished during the *cough* party *cough*. Then, our family went to Brentville in Laguna to see some model houses (though I doubt we'll be buying because of the long distance). After which, we headed to the Festival Mall in Alabang for dinner, which we didn't enjoy either. The only good thing that happened was that I actually got to buy two cutie blouses. (Whoopee!)

We arrived home at about midnight.

MONDAY BLUES: Today, I wake up to find out I'm SWIMMING in deep shit. I've got so many papers to do!!! And tests are looming up ahead! Waaah!!! I'm sooo in for it now.

I am in the process of deliberation whether to beg on my knees for my teacher to extend the deadline or maybe, just risk not passing some of the assignment. Either way, it won't be good.

Serves me right for all the fun I was enjoying too much.

Argh.

Sniffles

Sniffles



Hummin': The Reason by Hoobastank

I've caught something. *Ah-chooo!*

Argh.

I hate having colds because of the stuffiness in my nose, making it hard to breathe through my nostrils and thus causing chapped lips because I have to breathe through my mouth or die from lack of oxygen (as if my brain hasn't suffered enough from oxygen depletion).

Having said that, it's also hard to eat because I can hardly chew, swallow and take in gulps of air all at the same time. Sigh, not being able to eat already makes me sad.

Being sick BITES.

I get to call attention even though how subtly I try because some of my profs won't allow people to come in and out of the classroom during class hours. So that's either I hold in my snot for a good 1 and 1/2 hour or I release it in a tissue for my seatmates to hear.

Ewww, gross. I know.

I've taken about 4 Tuseran Forte capsules in the last 24 hours and I've only gotten worse. Grrr...why does it feel like I'm coming down with a fever? Argh. Can't miss class though 'coz I've got a test coming up.

Darn it.

Did I mention I hate being sick?

Well, let me say it again, I HATE BEING SICK!!!



Dreaming Again!

As if that's not troubling enough. Let me just say, I dreamt of him again. Yes, I did. (Read in order to relate: THE SPARK) Damn it, I'm beginning to dread closing my eyes because I really don't want to hang onto any hopes or feelings.

IT'S BEEN THREE YEARS FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!!!

Let me move on. Please...

On a side note, does anyone know where dreams come from? I mean, any interpretation of dreams?

LOTR Purist NO LONGER!

LOTR Purist No Longer!



Hummin': Accidentally in Love by Counting Crows

'Halfings!' laughed the Rider that stood before Eomer. 'Halfings! But they are only a little people in old songs and children's tales our of the North. Do we walk in legends or on the green earth in the daylight?'

'A man may do both,' said Aragorn. 'For not we, but those who come after will be the legends of our time. The green earth, say you? That is a mighty matter of legend, though you tread it under the light of day!'

Last friday, I found myself walking around the school library with no real destination. To avoid looking like a person who hangs out in the Rizal Annex just to lug the hours away and benefit from the cool air conditioning (which I was doing), I figured much as well catch up on my reading time.

Using the computer to search for interesting books, I thought well, Lord Of The Rings would definitely be an interesting read. I typed in the book title, and found out that all the books from the two sets of the LOTR Trilogy was loaned out...except for one, The Two Towers. I wanted to read from the first book, but mere loaners can't be choosers. So, settling without much complaint, I now have a black, hardbound copy of the Two Towers here in my very room.

My expectations, though surprisingly sky high, were met by the author, J.R.R. Tolkien, gaining even more admiration (as if it were anymore possible) from an amateur writer like me. I can not quite comprehend how one person can conjure up all these fantasylands and middle earth folks with great detail. I mean, I do have an active imagination, but mine is obivously galaxies away from that of Tolkien.

As I flipped page after page, my senses were filled with so much texture and detail that I could picture every scene of the story as if I myself was in the very worlds he conceived. It was awe-inspiring the way that his words could create another place in another time, simply by description.

Speaking of creation, I must admit that after a few pages only did I begin to really appreciate the work of Director Peter Jackson who went to great lengths just to recreate the books as closely as possible. The LOTR Movies were among the few movies which were able to justify the books from whence the plots came from.

And even though books are always better than the movies that were based on them, which I can understand since movies recreate with real people as actors/actresses, time constraint and a budget, I'd give Peter Jackson the highest commendation for actually coming this close.

Ang galing talaga.

They always said he was pure genius. And I agreed; but it is only now that I can truly say, "Yes, I know."


Back to the book. Blog again later. Cheerz. *wink*