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[December 30, 2010 at 8:12pm] |
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+ leave me a note if you want to be added
+ a lot of my entries are going to be public anyway but... whatever
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| Grandpa's Treasure Box |
[November 15, 2008 at 11:07am] |
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I was enjoying a (huge ass) cup of Toffee Nut Latte when my late grandfather's memory decided to invade my mind. I never really had a great relationship with him--it was more out of tolerance because we're related. I've always felt like I'll never be good enough for him even though I'm his first granddaughter. He seemed to favor my younger cousins who were brought up Ala-Americana and lived (still does) in St. Ignatius Village. I'm two-fucking-years older than that Iho-de-Puta and I yet I live in his shadow. He's smart, mestizo, and an all-around rich kid who has a ginormous (and yes, I know there no such word) trust fund. He's the grandchild who need not beg for a piece of chocolate from Grandpapa because one, he's the favorite; and two, he can afford to buy The Chocolate Factory and a whole batallion of Oompa Loompas.
Wait.
Let me correct that.
Grandpapa would've bought the the factory and those freaky, little beings that are a stone's throw away from pondscum.
You see, Grandpapa used to live in the good ol' US of A--those were the days when my Le Familia can actually tolerate each other. For reasons long written in the long list of cliche reasons why families feud, I would just let you fill in the blanks and imagine just how traditionally fucked up we are. I digressed again. So interesting, this family of mine. Can't help but be cynical whenever I think about us being, well, a family because that's the last thing we really are to each other. So Grandpapa, whenever he would go back home to the country of Monkies, would always bring along a box full of Western goodies. It would usually house my barbie dolls and Disney tapes for a good 24-hour travel. It would then be taken, along with Grandpapa, on a bumpy road trip to the South.
That's where my Grandpapa's 4-bedroom-2 1/2-baths-bungalow-style house was built. A piece of land that is located in the cat's basin of Cavite's floodwaters.
So his Treasure Box full of young-people goodies goes out of the car and into his "old-people" smelling room--I know that you know what I mean. "Old-people" rooms stank (and still does) of white hair, wrinkly skin, and dying wishes--and something that's akin to formaldehyde. I can't remember the tiny details but I'm pretty sure I never took my eyes off that box until it disappeared into Grandpapa's room. Inside where my Caucasian, plastic idols, and packs upon packs of Twix, Snickers, MnM's, Babe Ruths, and those three gay men in tights.
You see, if Ijo-de-Puta were in my place, hell would've froze all over before Grandpapa forbids him to dig into the Treasure Box. However, I'm the one who was living with him and yet I am the farthest away from those goddamned chocolates. He would let go of the Barbie Dolls, of course, but those chocolates were like freakin' Gold.
He would rather have the rats, the roaches, and the timely expiration dates get to it thatn grubby, little hands.
I never liked him back then, and I never dared to get closer to him. I fear rejection and I fear him. My dad's leather belt has caused me enough trauma, thank you very much. I don't need my Grandpapa's cold stares to kill anymore of my "un-cynical" self. He never really kept those Gold bullions to himself--I would like to think that I got a fair share of the old man's booty but not all.
If only Grandpapa knew that the Treasure Box was not enough to keep Ijo-de-Puta with him--his parents (a.k.a. my uncle and his bitch) always decided (and still does--how many times do I have to say this?) what he can and cannot do and that includes staying away from my Grandpapa when he got a little too old to hold in his pee.
Grandpapa used to be a force to be reckoned with. The General will always fall in the end--either by the sword or by the Scythe.
Grandpapa rode the escalator to the biggest party on Paradise a day after I kept him company in his hospital room. He was probably the saddest party-goer ever.
His Treasure Box disappeared a long time ago and on that particular day, he was the one inside. All packed and ready to go. The only difference, really, is that this trip won't take 24 hours.
I don't think of Grandpapa that often, or Ijo-de-Puta. Or my uncle. Or the great bitch.
Now that I think about it, a good gigabyte or two are dedicated to that Treasure Box and all the that lies within.
That's because I remember whenever I would stick the chocolatey goodness into my mouth, I actually feel that Grandpapa likes me. That the bar of Snickers were bought just for me. By my granddad. Were given to me. By my granddad. And were (and still are) the good memories. Given to me by my granddad.
I never saw Grandpapa the way other people see their's.
And yet somehow, the silhoutte of him bending over the box and taking out my chocolates is stuck in a megabyte of my Pentium 1. And Ijo-de-Puta, well, he's somewhere in there, in the Trash Can.
Along with wrappers of Twix and the discarded head of my Barbie doll.
-FIN-
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| How I survive |
[August 01, 2008 at 10:55pm] |
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It's much simpler to pretend that I know nothing, than to admit that I've out-smarted other people.
It makes it easier for them to overlook the obvious.
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| OMFG Box |
[August 01, 2008 at 10:52pm] |
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OMGWTF?! |
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The guy who bullied me back in first year highschool added me to his Friendster account.
I accepted the invite.
I think I finally found it in my heart to forgive.
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| Yaoi anyone? |
[January 12, 2008 at 12:22pm] |
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Many people do not appreciate Yaoi--and for a very good reason.
It involves homesexuality.
Le gasp!
Yes, the proverbial pain-in-the-neck, up-your-ass, and in-your-face issue that many societies would rather not deal with.
So to say that I'm going against the rules--yet again--is an understatement.
I am not alone, mind you. I stand with many women who appreciate the intricacies of Man/Boy Love and find it interesting. And yes, I am well aware that hormones-gone-wild are to blame but whoever claims to be normal must know that perversion(?) is a part of life. Not a lot of people keep their Freudian beliefs under lock and key all the time so it's about time they start accepting it. Women are humans too--they have urges and fetishes just like men. And if men love seeing two women rub against each other, we love seeing [reading] two men go at it doggy style as well.
Well, it is extreme and a lot of women would completely rebuke the idea. It's a preference, isn't it? So everybody's entitled to have a little piece of whatever makes their blood flow faster and makes their temperature rise higher.
I've had my share of good and bad yaoi fanfictions/doujinshis and I've managed to enjoy reading them all. I can't expect everone to be good writers, can I? Some were just born with the knack to write and some, well, let's just say their mothers hid inside caves and holes when God sprinkled the world with creativity. I like wiriting and reading this genre, and I think I'm the only one within miles that do. Does this mean I'll have to spend a thousand years in purgatory cleansing and ridding myself of all the sweet-icky-yaoi-goodness that I so deliberately rolled in? God is not a hypocrite and if the things they taught me back highschool is true, he should've forseen yaoi being an intrinsic part of women's [men's?] lives. And yes, I think God also allowed homosexuality because if he was against it, he wouldn't have given human beings freewill. That only means that choosing the stories that I read is as human as choosing the kind of people I sleep with.
Hell, if my morals woudl have it, I would read and sleep with the whole blessed lot!
And no, I don't see myself reading stories that involves Jesus and his apostles. I have my own standards.
(Okay, so I get another extra thousand years for even thinking about that? I hope not.)
What is yaoi anyway?
Yaoi is the acronym for the phrase yama nashi, ochi nashi, imi nashi, which means no peak, no point, no problem. If you're going to ask me, yaoi might have been originally written or illustrated for people who prefer fast-paced stories where traditional romantic processes do not apply. From one night stands to long-term relationships, yaoi stories are usually written to give immediate gratification--in every sense of the word. It makes a lot of impossible things, well, possible. As a matter of fact, It is common to see authors include "Warning: Mpreg! Incest!" in the summaries of the story.
And if you're wondering, M-preg stands for Male Pregnancy.
Yaoi readers can be finicky when choosing the stories that they read. Hell, if I could stay away from M-Preg stories, I would. It all depends if it's acceptable. What do I mean?
Okay, let's tackle Male Pregnancy (and I know some of you might be puking out your lunch by now). Real life people are considered fair game to yaoi authors as much as anime characters are. For me, I would accept M-Preg situations if it's possible in the alternate universe that the author is trying to create and if it's in-line with the original story of the anime. I draw a line in between what I consider as possible and tolerable, and what I consider as utterly absurd. I don't like reading M-Preg situations when it involves real life people and I only accept it IF AND ONLY IF the enime made it possible in the first place. A good example would be the anime called Naruto. If you haven't heard of that anime by now, I don't know what else to say except, "Where have you been these past few years? Mars?" In the said Anime, the characters can make use of special ninja techniques to create illusions and/or morph themselves into somebody else's likeness. The main character, Naruto, is usually paired up with his rival-cum-bestfriend, Sasuke--with the latter being the Seme. (Seme? Uke? Jargons? We'll tackle that later on. So where was I?) You see, Naruto's character is special. In the anime's storyline, a demon was sealed in his body. Yaoi authors take advantage of this special situation to make Naruto susceptible to [male] pregnancy. So, if in the anime's reality/world, these things are somewhat plausible, then I would gladly accept it in the fanfiction as well. Surrealistic feasibility is the key (okay, I'm inventing words and phrases here but just say yes to whatever I'm trying to say here) to an author's literary control over the readers.
Again, I do not accept M-preg situations in all animes. The plot behind shows like Yu Yu Hakusho (Ghost Fighter) and Naruto create a good foundation for a viable M-preg-based fanficiton. However, animes like Weiss Kreuz (Knight Hunters) and Rurouni Kenshin (Samurai X), for example, do not. I just don't seea pregnant Kenshin Himura walking around the streets of Meiji-era Japan, or Aya Fujimiya assinating Takatori with a five-month old fetus inside his belly. This is, of course, my personal opinion. Some authors do not find M-preg too much of a far-fetched idea and still apply it to most, if not all, their anime-based pairigns and even, real people [yaoi coupling]. Each fandom have their fair share of aberrant writers who, because of the Golden Rule of Literary Writing, have the freedom to do so. I am in no way condmening them though.
To each his own, I always say.
Another significant detail in a yaoi fanfiction is the pairing or coupling. Actually, even before creating out-of-this-world plots, it crucial for an author to determine who he or she is going to write about. Most couplings start with the main characters in the story and after determining who they are, the author would then determine who's going to be Seme and who's going to be Uke. Since my morals are bordering on crude, this is how I define the two: Seme is the fuck-er and the Uke is the fuck-ee. Top. Bottom. Simple, right? Well, to people who just wants to know what it means, it is. However, for yaoi authors and readers alike, it is a debatable, and sometimes pain-inducing, topic. This is how Wikipedia defines the two:
"The seme generally has a stronger chin, shorter hair, smaller eyes, and a more stereotypically masculine demeanor than the uke. The seme usually pursues the uke. The uke usually has softer, youthful features with bigger eyes and a smaller build. He is usually less experienced with romance or sex and his interactions with the seme often make for his first homosexual experience. The storyline where an uke is reluctant to have anal sex with a seme is considered to be similar to the reader's reluctance to have sex whilst still a virgin."
The aformentioned is almost, if not always, true. As a writer, I make it easier for myself when choosing who tops. I'm pretty straight forward with my pairings. Just on instinct alone, I know who's topping who, but of course, we all have different preferences so I can't say that Sasuke should always be Naruto's seme. On this pairing, for example, the SasuNaru supporters almost equals the number of NaruSasu fans. Some even cross the line and say that they are interchangeable so they usually prefer SasuNaruSasu or NaruSasuNaru. You see, even the way pairings are written is important. The first name mentioned would be the seme in the story and the latter would be the uke. Some authors (I for one was guilty of it) are not aware of this--so when SasuNaru fans end up getting a plateful of NaruSasu interaction, they end up flaming the writer.
As I've said, I make my pairings simple and my reasons behind it uncomplicated. Whoever is more aggresive and masculine between the two is automatically the seme and the more feminine and submissive one, the uke. If I can avoid it (how many times have I said this?), I would also defer from reading (perhaps even writing) stories where couples are used interchangeably. Some authors however, thrive on reviews and polls. As the story progresses, they would leave notes asking their readers who they want to top. They would even write two versions of one chapter just so they can satiate the cravings of the readers. Others, well, I think it just doesn't matter as long as the pairing they like is in the story.
Lemme see, how do I make things simpler for non-yaoi readers. Okay, here's an example. And, let's just say that for all intents and purposes, stuffed animals and young boys are doable. Okay? Work with me here.
In Winnie the Pooh, the ultimate seme has to be Christopher Robin. He owns them. He can do whatever the hell he wants with them, hell, he can screw their headless, stuffed bodies if the authors wants him to. He can top Tigger, Pooh, Piglet, Roo, Eeyore, and the owl guy (forgot his name). Next in line to be seme is Tigger just because he's loopy and pretty much everyone else is uke material. The ultimate uke is Piglet because, well, I mean have you seen the poor pig? He stutters all the time and is probably scared shitless of his own shadow. So if anyone tells him to drop on all fours and take it up the ass, he will--even if the seme was Roo. The interchangeable guys would have to be Pooh and Tigger. The owl, well, I don't know... whoever floats his boat I guess.
So after forever changing the way you look at these Disney characters, do you see how crucial it is to know which pairing to write about? It has to be feasible.
See how hard it is?
(Yeah. Yeah. Pun intended, bitch. Whatever.)
Yaoi may seem like a simple genre to write but as you can see, there more to it than sex and hard-core gay sex. Hell, some authors/doujinshi-makers would like to keep their work strictly categorized as yaoi and completely separate for gay literature. Don't ask me. I would say it's one and the same.
Anyway, yaoi fanfictions/doujinshis originally contained Anime characters but authors have broadened the scope. Favorite yaoi couplings would range from J-rockers, mostly Asian [men] celebrities, movie characters, and other non-Anime characters.
Again, whatever floats your boat.
Writing yaoi is more complicated than what most people think. Some fanfictions maybe rated one-shots but an author still puts a lot of thought into writing them. As a matter of fact, for you you to gain readers, you must put an extra kick, the umph-factor, in your fanfiction that would make it unique and interesting in a sea of yaoi stories. The same plots and sub-genres are so over-used that readers just become tired of it. Fanfiction authors must weave their stories with facts to form a cohesive and believable plot. If an author shows weakness in this area, then their work would just end up as a blatant copy of the original. A commonly used plot is highscool/college drama.
I mean, c'mon, highschool can be such a bitch and just from your own personal experience, you can write a whole novel that would involve these characters.
It's harder to make people believe in fanfiction than original fictions becuase in the latter, the authors have the freedom to create his character from scratch. In fanfiction, the readers only give the authors some sort of leeway. If the writer feels that they are deviating from the character's personality, they would usually label their fanfictions as OOC or out-of-character. The mere fact that we have to warn our readers about it is sign that not a lot of people appreciate the sudden change.
Fanfiction is not a lesser form of literature or written work. It is hard to write one and it's even harder to critique another's work. I think some juvenile fangirls make it seem like it's all fun and games but like other writers, we do research for our stories. Again, feasibility people. Feasibility. We don't just write about a ball full of pink fluff and gay spinkles. Although we appreciate comments like "Lykm OMGZ!!!!11!!!!!! O__O That is like teh m0st awesome[nesssssss] story 3vah! Sasu-kun and Naru-chan are soooo ka-waiiiiiiiiii!!!!!111!!!!!", we would actually be more happier with critiques that were well thought of.
And if possible, we would like to get a well-written[typed] review as well. Something that we could actually understand. I don't go bitching about it, I just thank people for even taking the time to read them but sometimes I would like someone else to extend the same courtesy--if I review a story, I actually take the time to think of things to say to the author. Something to praise him/her for the effort and even constructive criticism that might help make the story better.
Okay, I feel blood clotting somewhere in my nape. It hurts when I try to think too much about things like this. It's long and tedious and it can be a mouthful.
(Fuck it. My world is based on double-meanings so get used to puns.)
Yaoi is love.
And yaoi is even hotter when written well and enjoyed in its entirety.
-FIN-
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| No doubt about it~~~ |
[January 10, 2008 at 5:08pm] |
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I love Asian Men.
Yes, boys and girls, even the ones that are prettier than me.
Asian Men are HOT.
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| Crap... double crap |
[January 04, 2008 at 11:22am] |
I don't know why I did it.
I think a lot of people are guilty of doing this as well.
Have you ever Googled or Yahoo!ed a person before?
You know, some people research other people before they go on dates or if they just want to know more about that particular person...
Yeah well, I did that. By the way, I just want you to know that I AM NOT A STALKER.
I've been trying to use his name but I don't get anything from either of the two search engines. So I utilized the next best thing--his Y!m username. I got one hit. ONE FREAKIN' HIT, ladies and gentlemen--and it had to contain a very disturbing, umm, fact. Well, not that disturbing considering that I am in no way a homophobic person. So anyway, my search led me to a Xanga account. The owner, we can call him John, is obviously gay. John happens to know him, lets call him Smith (yeah, I know, very creative of me).
So, John's Xanga account is old and his last post was dated July 26, 2004. Yeeeep. The account is that old. Anyway, on that site, there were a couple of posts wherein he shared a couple of Y!m conversations he had with Smith.
(For their privacy, I'll just use their alias. And, I had to include some snippets from the actual post itself... please take note of them and tell me what you think. By the way, since some of them are in our vernacular, I'll translate it for you...)
[ First Xanga Post Starts Here ]
-talked to sweet Smith -said goodbye because I need to shower (Smith (10:15:33 PM): can i join you?) yey!!! hehe -and blah bla blah Nothing good really happend this day, oh, I watched CONFESSIONS OF A TEENAGE DRAMA QUEEN on DVD. It was super duper uber GAY. LOL, but Lindsay has nice breasts.
I ALSO HAD SWEET CONVOS WITH SMITHTODAY, YIPEE ----------[ Y!m Conversation Starts Here]---------
John (1:33:44 AM): why mainit ulo mo? [Translation: Why are you angry? ]
John (1:34:42 AM): wag na init ulo mo ha [Translation: Don't be angry ]
Smith (1:35:28 AM): okay..sige na nga [Translation: Okay... sure... ] Smith (10:05:39 PM): don't blame paris..the place is damn innocent..hehehe
John (10:05:55 PM): sory ha! [Translation: I'm sorry (A/N: duh... X_X) ]
Smith (10:06:45 PM): hahaha//just kidding..eto naman..hahhaa [Translation: hahaha//just kidding... here we go again... hahaa ]
John (10:07:17 PM): hehe kasi ikaw e [Translation: hehe because of you (A/N: okay... i'm not sure if i translated that correctly) ]
Smith (10:08:35 PM): oist..di na yan galit..hehehe [Translation: Oist... he's not angry anymore... hehehe ]
John (10:08:46 PM): hmmmm????
John (10:08:47 PM): hehe
Smith (10:09:41 PM): [Translation: i think this is where the licking icon was placed... you know that one un Y!m ]
Smith (10:09:51 PM): wag mo ko i-lick [Translation: Don't lick me (A/N: okay... wtf?!?!] ]
John (10:09:53 PM): lol
Smith (10:11:09 PM): im teasinh..and not licking..lol
***Now this one totally blew me away***
Smith (11:16:06 PM): i feel hot..hahah..teka..ill take off my shirt muna kasi ang init kasi [Translation: I feel hot... haha... wait... i'll take off my shirt first because it's hot (A/N: oh really, ya think?!?!) ] YIHEE! fun day huh
----------[ Y!m Conversation Ends Here]---------
[ First Xanga Post Ends Here ]
If you're confused, the person I was looking for initially was Smith, okay? Just want to make it clear. He's sort of my umm *crush* back in college and I think I still like him... or something. Maybe... maybe not. Who cares, right? Got my drift now? If you have a crush and you're Googling/Yahoo!ing him or her, it really sucks to find things like this. It got me thinking, "Thaaaat's right Rage... your luck just gets better and better every year."
I can't say that I'm intruding in their lives because John posted it on his blog and well, he's very open with his live and sexuality. I mean, can you consider this as flirting? Or am I being paranoid.
You can't really tell me that I should get over it because: 1.) Smith does not know me, 2.) I only know Smith through a friend, 3.) Smith and I never had a "past" to begin with, and 4.) I have other things to worry about. So bottomline, there's nothing to get over with. It feels... oh I don't know... bad? You know when you get that heavy feeling in your stomach and it sort of rises up to you throat and it makes you want to puke?
Why is everybody turning gay? Why?
Do you think Smith is gay? I mean, I ONLY have that as a "clue" to his, umm, sexual preference. So I don't know. And, while you're at it, can you tell me why I'm feeling this way?
Maybe I just feel threatened--since I'm straight and it seems as if the 3rd sex is taking over the world. Not that it's a bad thing but you know, it's just sad. Why oh why did I even bother looking Smith up. It's soooooo stupid.
Imma go and indulge myself with MxM videos.
***Right... and I was woried about gay men taking over the world...***
-FIN-
P.S. I have a lot of gay friends and this is NOT a GAY BASHING POST--okay?
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| The Lover, The Dreamer, And The Damned |
[December 29, 2007 at 11:30am] |
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The Lover said, "I am going to look for my beloved. I am going to woo her into my arms and never let her go again."
He looked up to the night sky, and looked for a Star that would grant him the patience to search for his heart's twin.
He closed his eyes and wished like he has never wished before.
The Star, the one that dances in gold and red lights, shined brightly--an indication that it will carry that wish through time.
The Dreamer, upon hearing those words and seeing his friend's actions, said, "I am going to look for my destiny. I am going to search for my dream and stand in the pedestal of success."
With that said, he enclosed the Silver Cross that dangles around his neck in his hands. He tightened his grip to the point where the Silver Cross started digging into his skin and making him bleed.
He closed his eyes and hoped like he has never hoped before.
The Silver Cross, the one that bleeds for its owner, radiated with an undying warmth--a sign that it will represent a dream that will never fade.
The Damned, sitting across her two friends, felt her heart break into a million pieces. She wanted to speak but the words were tangled and caught in between the talons of denial and fear. She said to herself, "I have found my beloved and I have found my dream. There's no need to search of either of the two for they are an arm's length away. I should be soaring endless heights with the Wings of Cupid and running endless miles with the Feet of Achilles."
With that, she hung her head, letting the Ebony strands curtain her face as she allowed her eyes to release bitter tears. She tried to grasp for the remainder of her heart but only the sharp fragments of reality ran through her fingers--cutting and hurting her.
She closed her eyes and cried like she has never cried before.
The wide, wonderful Wings of Cupid were stunted in the beginning of their growth and the sturdy, strong Feet of Achilles were cut off even before they grew--an imagery of unrequitted love and false hope.
She let the darkness envelope her so that Her Beloved and Her Dream could shine brighter.
-FIN-
In memory of a young woman's untarnished dreams.
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| A plan to live |
[December 24, 2007 at 1:53pm] |
My mom was twenty-three years old when I was conceived.
Twenty-three years later, she has a daughter who is manic-depressive and suicidal.
I was just drinking my venti, toffeenut latte and I had several sticks of menthol left in pack when I realized that my life is going nowhere.
My hands were shaking so bad when the barrista gave me a cup of water to drink, and as I am writing this, my tears are begging to break free.
I always have this deep, dark feeling inside of me that I cannot put my finger on. It's something that makes me feel sad and lonely everytime I am left with my own devices. I often find myself wetting the pillow with my tears when that feeling comes boiling up the surface. A lump would usually form in my throat and my heart feels empty. It would usually be at this point in time wherein I would think of as many things that I can to keep myself from jumping into that dark abyss.
I don't wan to say that this caught me completely by surprise becuase I've been experiencing this for several years now. I thought that by constantly keeping my innerself busy with randomness and shallow happiness, it would eventually go away.
People look at me and would often find things to praise. Either that or the complete opposite.
There's always something about me that people see, but they can't seem to fathom how much deeper my personality goes.
I think it is my fault that people do not trust me.
I haven't lost my barrier--a wall so sturdy and tall, nobody even dared to break it down or scale it. I have never trusted anyone with my feelings, even my family, because I know they'll just shrug it off.
Funny how my emotions find the most opportune time to rage. Christmas is only several hours away and I am here, sulking again.
Can anyone please help me find the reason why I'm feeling this way?
Atleast help me find the courage to end a life that was never really mine.
I feel like I'm a fifteen-minute intermission in a full-length movie. My life probably started way before I was born and this--this thing that I call living is just a messy juxtaposition on a near-perfect scene. My friends and my family have a reason to live, a goal to achieve, and other people to love. Me? I'm just a selfish, self-loving crybaby who can't find herself a nice little nook to fit in.
I'm sniffling. Usually this is a sign that tells me the emotional floodgates are starting to open, and that the rampaging tears of hatred are slowly being released. It's a good thing that I have good control over my emotion--well, every now and then--or else I would be reduced to a quivering, puddle of useless mess.
And I don't think the people manning the booth would be too happy to escort me to a Psychiatrist. Well, that is IF there is a shrink within the immediate viccinity--and I know there isn't. We Filipinos do not have the time, the patience, and the money to listen to another person with a Doctorate in people-reading tell them that they generally screwed up.
We usually let a psychotic episode pass, letting off as a result of hunger or uber drunkenness.
There are so many thing I want to do in my life. Hell, I even want to try them out before I intentionally (or unintentionally) die. I want to prove myself to my family and friends. I want to show them that I am worth every thought, every memory, and every breath that they spend when my face happens to flicker in their minds.
I want this feeling to disappear because underneath the happy-go-lucky, kaladkarin, screw-the-world-and-everyone-in-it exterior, I am as human as anybody else. If anyone would take the time to look into my eyes, they would see the contrast.
I am finding it hard to breathe right now. Maybe because all those years of relying on my menthols have finally caught up with me--or is it because the lump in my throat is suddenly bigger.
It irks me to know what I am never smart enough, never beautiful enough, never rich enough, and never worthy enough to keep people beside or with me. I always fly from one set of friends to another and no one seems to remember me. I don't do anything worth while, I guess. Nothing that would burn even my small image of me in their minds.
My parents love me. I know that much. This is because each parent have the obligation to do so. My siblings love me because I am their flesh and blood. My friends--well, they love me--because, well... because I think I give them a reason to smile every now and then.
No... the world won't be a better place when I'm gone. You know why?
Because I was never a part of it to begin with.
An old blockmate just sent me a message via Y!m. He said Merry Christmas. How charming. He remembered me.
Anyway, I'll be keeping my Y!m open until I get to heaven, or hell, or purgatory, or wherever.
When you need someone to talk to, just gimme a buzz.
And lemme tell you this...
No matter what I say or do the next time we meet (IF we meet again), I will always love you... all of you.
-FIN-
P.S. Don't worry (I highly doubt you are), I won't die anytime soon. I'm just deteriorating slowly.
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| Ah fuck, here we go again~~~ |
[November 30, 2007 at 10:41am] |
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Christmas is coming.
Such a troublesome holiday if you ask me. More troublesome than birthdays.
I'm not a cheapskate, m'okay? I'm just stingy and lazy (there is a thin line between stingy and being a cheapskate... so blow me). I honestly want to give gifts for Christmas but it takes too much effort to do so. You need to muscle your way through hordes of crazy-as-hell Christmas shoppers and you have to decided which gift fits whoever. I hate it. If my Lazy Man's Salary (yep, that's what I call my 17,000Php++ pay from being a callcenter agent) would allow it, I would hire somebody to do all the thinking and the shopping for me.
Personal touch my ass. They always say that it's the thought that counts, ne?
The last time I honestly shopped for gifts was--hell, I can't even be certain. 'Twas the night before Christmas--just screwing with you--anyway, it was probably during Senior year in highschool or freshman year in College. Can't remember. I got a good bargain on grooming kits for women and I was able to find a cute little laundry basket for my friend Beng all in one store and all under 1,500Php. Saved me the money and saved from the hassle and headache that comes along with the Yuletide asskissinggiveaways.
Again, I'm not cheap.
Hell, I even went through all the trouble of gift wrapping them. I asked for small, brown paper bags from the same store and I bought red and white ribbons. I actually felt Martha Stewart taking over my body as I charred the ends of each paper bags using a candle. You know, to add a little personal touch. My mom almost gave me a pre-Christmas bashing for nearly burning down my bed and making my room look like a mini-Manila during WWII, it was all worth it.
I just didn't like the fact that I had to haul the freakin' gifts all the way to my friends house for our Christmas party.
That reminds me--I also TRIED to exert just as much effort the next Christmas. I bought multi-colored fans from Sanrio and a couple of those glitter glues. I wanted to, again, add a personal touch to each of the fans. I was succesful actually. I finished them. At the end of the evening, I had 16 or so fans all open and spread out on my mom's couch so that they'll dry faster.
I tested them the next morning. I tried fanning them out to see if the design would hold.
It did... but some--actaually, a lot--of the glitter ended up on face.
Since it was College, I never got the chance to distribute them. And so, those fans can be found inside the bottom drawer of my dresser. Yep. It's been there for probably seven years or so? I don't know.
Now that I'm working, somebody would always end up suggesting that we hold a fucking Christmas Kringle. And I'm like, "Shit... here we go again."
I mean, c'moooooooon.
It's hard enough to find a gift--but to find gift that your monito/monita specified is harder. The last time we held that, my monita asked me to find a fucking PLASTIC PILLOW. A plastic pillow for crying out loud! Where in this world would I find a plastic pillow? I just bought her the squeeshiest(?) pillow I can find and wrapped it in the nicest way possible.
And she's still using it.
Thinking of a good gift to request for is hard as well. I ended up listing this down the last time:
Whoever you are, here are your options:
1. Vintage Tees
2. My Chemical Romance Album
3. Starbucks Mug
4. Or anything that's not a freakin' plastic pillow because I know you will not find it.
Well, atleast I gave her options. Sounds demanding but I honestly cannot pick anything. I'm like, okay, here's my list now you choose how you're going to screw yourself over trying to buy one.
I wonder what I'm going to request for this Christmas. That is IF somebody would suggest it AGAIN.
And I have this gut-feeling that some wise-ass, money-splurging, Holiday-whore would open his/her big mouth and do so.
Again, I am not cheap. And I am not the Grinch.
It's just that sometimes, all the redgreenandwhiteCapitalismbullshit gets to me and I end up bitching about it until New Year.
And just in case somebody out there is kind enough to give me a gift, I want black, high-cut Chuck Taylors in size 9.
And oh, Merry Christmas.
-FIN-
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| On my Must-Watch List |
[November 10, 2007 at 3:02pm] |
Naruto
Naruto: Shippuuden
Bloody Naruto.
I hate it when I get obsessed.
http://www.narutocentral.com/
http://www.narutomagic.com/2007
http://www.saiyanisland.com
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[November 10, 2007 at 2:32pm] |
FUCK...
Call me an idiot.
I STILL DO NOT KNOW HOW THIS FRIENDS ONLY THING WORK.
Why me?
WHY?!?!
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horny.. LOLZ