Short-times... for now

I've always been a huge fan of love. May it be poems about it (which by the way I have in growing printed stacks), stories that make me go starry-eyed and hopeful, and thoughts that is similar to how I seek to eat rice at least once a day.

While my own love life's current state is next to nothing, the idea of it never fails to cheer me up when things aren't working out the way I want them. I have a very purist idea about love then - it should be the sole reason for commitment and nothing else. But that was then. Things changed when life happened.

Fast-forward to college, I met a guy I thought the world of. For me he is the epitome of cool-dom: witty, plays the guitar, quite the ladies' man (yes it's plural), not intimidatingly hot but has the casual sexy vibe, can hold my interest for more than 5 minutes (considering my short-attention span to any 'normal' conversation, that's an achievement), and listens to whatever I have to say and makes me tell more than what my usually guarded mode allows me. The whole idea of a him and an I together seemed so perfect at the time. I imagine long walks with him, poem sessions, and music sessions. I even got to the point in my imagination where I introduce him to my family. I thought we had something special going on between us.

With him, I try to act as if I don't see him differently for he always teased me about my hidden desire towards him when deep inside me I have all those weird fantasies of him and I getting together.

(...)

Swallow=lunok

I'm too tired for words. I had my exam today which was fairly ok. Met with the singing group in the dorm. And found a job! Yey!

Quote to translate to Filipino:

One swallow does not make a summer, neither does one fine day; similarly one day or brief time of happiness does not make a person entirely happy.

-Aristotle Greek critic, philosopher, physicist, & zoologist (384 BC - 322 BC)

Stew peed

Me: Hi! How are you?
Him: You look stupid on that picture.
Me: Ok. Thank you.

For someone I haven't gotten in touch with for a very long time, it sounded downright comfortable. And considering how close (or not) we were, it was too much. So why was he in my list in the first place? Damn proprieties.

I honestly think that my picture was cute. Apparently, someone of negligible importance thought otherwise. Now. Why am I bothering with this post?

He used to matter. A lot. Damn him.

That's why.

Going on a diet

No. It's not what you think it is. Though it could be, too.

I have this undying fascination for Diether Ocampo's (a local celebrity) teeth that whenever I hear news about him, I get all excited. My friend just told me that he just broke up with his girlfriend. *light bulb moment

Though it would open opportunities for others to be with him, I feel uneasy that at this stage in his life he still hasn't found the one. Judging from his smile, I am sure it wouldn't be hard for him to make girls fall for him. Don't get me started with his other merits like having a charity dedicated towards helping kids. I do understand that although having a toothpaste ad-worthy-smile and a charity doesn't really say a lot about the person (knowing how we humans operate), still. So where was i?

Oh yeah. Diether Ocampo. and his smile. and something about the dieting maybe?

Flirting with frames

     Now now... In less than a month, I would be 20. I have this idea that the moment i stop being a "teener", chronologically, i too must cease acting like one. Being a "teener" means having loads of vain pics with pink floral borders framing an equally cute face (face palm). 

     To take care of that, i have so kindly taken pictures of myself abiding the said definition of a regular "teener".

     Disclaimer: If you have accidentally reached this page (snickers), do yourself a favor by closing this window. Or if you're persistent (read:bored), go on and prepare for the greatest horrifying experience no horror house can give!

Patiently waiting so hurry.

Someone's birthday is coming up! 

Happy spring!

      Enough torture already. :P

DJ play that song

If I ever become a disc jockey in an alternate universe, my listeners (which would, in a conservative estimate (AHAHAH!), probably comprise everyone) will have to put up with these songs I'd play in shuffles (coz I am full of mercy like that)!
   1. Drops of Jupiter – Train
   2. My Love – Sara Bareilles
   3. Slow Dancing in a Burning Room – John Mayer
   4. We've Got Tonight – Kenny Rogers and Sheena Easton
   5. Gives You Hell – All American Rejects
   6. Never is a Promise – Fiona Apple
   7. Falling Slowly – Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova
   8. Paglisan – Color it Red
   9. Crash into Me – Dave Matthews Band
 10. Desperado - Eagles 

Flued Reflections

   Panic. When pain gets you by surprise, writhing you off your ability to walk, think, speak – you panic. Not because you might be dying but because the very definition of your humanity is taken from you.  Being basically inhuman in a human body  is as good as dying, only worse. You want to scream expletives, hurl your fist towards the nearest breathing object but can't all because you are incapable. Even the expression of the closest kind for anger and pain can only be imagined so instead of concretizing your anger, you just panic deep down - the most effective way to torture oneself.
   You get dreams that you are incapable juxtaposed to other more able beings. You start to question what the shit did you exist for if you can't be good at the only thing you deem yourself capable of. And then you lose it.
   The earth still turns you are surprised. When you wake up you see that it has been hours since. What you thought was a lifetime of suffering from the dream that gets you in your weakest state is only a good two hours in earth time.
   TWO HOURS! How much school work could I have done had I been awake?
   Not that I am complaining, as I already am. But seriously, a flu days before my hell week commences? I might as well be a hyena prattling about waiting for others to prattle with me. BUT. SHIT. Just when I need to do all these academic responsibilities so I can finally be free, I get trapped in this flu. Yes people. Freedom takes a lot of work.  Let me lay down how it's going to be like for me next week.
   EXAM. PAPER. EXAM. PROBLEM SET. REPORT. PAPER. PAPER. In that order, for two effin' days.
   And that's just for school. There are a few other things that needed attending like...

•     finding the perfect gift for an awesome friend who chose to spend her 20th   birthday with our other      friends and me over her other fab friends who could throw a decent party for her.
•    meeting with another friend  who's coming to Manila to watch Cats and going out for the BEST BOOZE ever. Talk poetry, money, ourselves, how it's all been, write for the first time TOGETHER, watch the sun rise at Baywalk and all those equally glorious men (ok. I really don't give a shit about the latter.), take great pictures... blah blah blah. Spending time with her would be a great catch-all phrase. All else would fall into place.

It's not really much, but man. What about sleep, pee, shit, food, shit?
  Oh. And there's also work. I can still feel the thickness of the receipts that I need to encode. How much work I need to do to help those kids put up a laudable performance for a special event.
   Yeah right. And then I start to imagine all others who are suffering as much (or more) as I but dang. I CANNOT, okay. I only said it to offer variety to my otherwise self-centered production number. Truth be told, I cannot imagine what it's like for others.  Getting all these things done is hard enough. Imagining others with their pain is a lot more time consuming. And in the interest of saving time, I'd rather concern myself with the hell hole I'm in. I'll get back to world peace when I'm done here. Good night.

Kalyo

the barefoot philosophy

“Empty-handed I entered the world
Barefoot I leave it.
My coming, my going –
Two simple happenings
That got entangled.”
~ Kozan Ichikyo
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Got this from my professor's page. I still do not understand what it stands for.