untitled for now

Cher Robin,



Je pourrais ne jamais vous dire ceci directement. Vous savez tres bien que jai toujours ete une personne fiere. Je ne donne dedans jamais aux emotions. Vous aviez l habitude de me dire que je suis coince et que je ne sens rien du tout. Je peux immobile me rappeler que premiere fois nous nous sommes reunis dans Starbucks. Vous vous rappelez ce que votre ami a dit au sujet de cette fille de lycee? Je peux immobile me rappeler cela. Que la premiere reunion ma fait la pensee de vous en tant quabruti. Je vous ai dit ceci, droit ? Jai pense reellement vous avez ete coince vers le haut de mais je devine que vous avez deja montre que vous netes pas. Quoi qu il en soit, il a ete de sept mois. Imaginez ! Sept longs mois de nous se voyant. Je n ai toujours pas change, je sais. Je meurs d envie de toujours des butees toriques et vous m abimez toujours. Est ce ce que j aime au sujet de vous. Vous lui faites toujours une remarque que les personnes autour de vous sont confortables. Une chose que vous avez faite que je ne peux pas oublier etait ce moment ou vous m avez donne un grand sac des butees toriques et des biscuits de Starbucks pour donner a mes compagnons d equipe juste ainsi je peut manger mon butee torique aimee. Je me rappellerai pour toujours ce geste.



Vous ne pourriez jamais lire cette lettre, rob. Je sais. En environ onze heures et vingt neuf minutes vous me laisseriez pour Manille. Je peux ne jamais laisser ma vie ici, vous sais cela. J ai ete toujours enamoure par la vie dans la grande ville mais je pense que je ne suis pas pret. Vous faites devoir les reves et a vous les suivre. Je ne peux pas etre la raison pour laquelle vous n atteindriez pas pour eux. Nous avons ete honnetes avec l un l'autre. Je vous ai dit tout au sujet de moi et ma vie et ma passion. Il est si bonne passer votre invitation d habiter e Manille vers le haut. Je sais si je decidais d aller avec vous que nous aurions les meilleurs temps de nos vies. Mais numero que je ne veux pas vous charger de moi. Je n ai pas assorti ma vie encore. Vous avez tellement en avant de vous et vous devriez vivre la vie ou vous voulez. Nous avons toujours promis que nous ne garderions pas des choses de l un l autre. Je sais que j ai promis mais j ai garde reellement quelque chose a me. Et puisqu il y a une chance tres faible de vous lisant cette lettre, je vous dirai ceci maintenant. Je ne veux pas que vous alliez. Je veux que vous restiez ici et viviez la vie avec moi.



Rob, vous avez ete la pour moi. Dieu, je peux seulement imaginer ou j aurais ete maintenant si vous ne me soulagiez pas pendant ces semaines des lesquelles j ai eues besoin, deviez mal, quelqu un me soulager. Vous m avez montre la beaute d etre inquiete de. Vous embetez toujours au-dessus de moi et je deteste. Je vous dis ceci chaque fois que vous faites quelque chose de bebete. Mais reellement profondement a l interieur de moi, je l aime. Hahaha! Je sais. Est-ce que mais que je peux faire ? Je me suis toujours glorifie emotif en etant detache. Vous m avez egalement fait quelqu un qui s inquiete. Et vous examinez toujours ma patience. La patience n a jamais ete ma vertu plus preferee mais vous m avez rendu quelque peu patient. Je sais je ne vous ai jamais dit que ceci, mais vous a change reellement ma vie. Sorte de. Rob, je m occupe de vous. Meme si j ai pu ne jamais vous avoir dit ceci ou meme vous avoir montre ceci, je fais. Je vraiment.



Je n ai jamais voulu que vous allassiez. Mais je ne peux faire rien maintenant. Vous devez vivre votre vie la maniere que vous avez voulue a et pas la maniere vous m avez voulu a. Les sept mois ont ete merveilleux et je me rappellerai pour toujours ces mois. Ce n a jamais ete un tour doux pour nous mais je sais que chaque argument, chaque baiser, chaque moment silencieux signifie tout. Il a fait a moi et j espere qu il a fait a vous aussi. Je suis aller juste dire ceci une fois et j espere que vous avez senti la meme chose aussi. Je t aime et je m ennuierai de vous. Aucune quantite de messages des textes ou de messages de mms ne pourrait signifier les memes qu en vous ayant reposez-apres moi lecture j une ligne Du Petit Prince.




Je sais que je vous verrai bientot. Mais ce ne sera jamais pareil. Merci des sept mois.





Moi

to read or not to read

I am a bookworm.



I read everything that I can lay my hands on. Magazines, trashy novels, newspapers. Anything! My grandfather has instilled in me the value of reading. At an early age, he has shown me his collection of classic novels. I grew up reading Adventures of Tom Sawyer to Gullivers Travels to Alice Through the Looking Glass. When I was older, I went through my grandfather's books and to my delight, I found more interesting books to read. I found an old paperback version of the Lord of the Rings trilogy, a book on Gandhi, and some very old editions of Readers Digest. From then on, I have been a voracious reader. Then I discovered when I was in high school the wonderful world of fashion magazines. Vogue and Seventeen where a monthly read until I learned about Harpers Bazaar, Elle and Marie Claire. I also started reading books by John Grisham and Michael Crichton.



In college, while I got busy with extra-curricular stuff and the night life, I also was discovering things about literature and some authors. I got into reading books by Filipino authors. I immensely enjoyed Nick Joaquin and his historical short stories, the different homecoming stories by Bienvenido Santos, the poignant stories about life by Lakambini Sitoy and all those stories by all these Filipino authors. Thanks to my professor, Mr. Ian Casocot, I was introduced to a new world of autors. Also, my other professor, Prof. Irma Pal, advised me to read books by Robert Ludlum because, according to her, I write like him. But I never really paid much attention to this. I just kept on devouring books.



These are just some of the books that I keep on re-reading. I have shelves upon shelves of books at home and I just cannot seem to note them all down here. These books are the ones you will see on my night stand.

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How about you, what books do you have on your bedside table?

f*ck goodbyes

How do you say goodbye to someone you do not have plans of letting go?



I have never been one who liked goodbyes. I hate it. As much as possible, I avoid goodbyes. When I was nine years old, my mom left us to work abroad. I was not able to say goodbye because I do not want to think about her going away. She went in and out of the country after that until last year. And every time she goes, I do not say goodbye. There was even this one time when I was still in college when she traveled all the way to Dumaguete City just to see me before she left. And all I said to her was to not forget the Diesel shoes and pants I wanted her to buy for me. I know I am selfish. It helps when you are not an emotional person. The act of saying goodbye actually means you are leaving someone. I do not want to be left behind. The act of not seeing that someone anymore is so final that my selfish self cannot bear to take. Why does someone always have to be left behind? Why goodbye when see you there would be better?



In exactly thirty six hours and fifteen minutes someone I care for, truly care for, will be leaving me. He would be venturing into that big bad city of Manila. I have lost someone to that city before and now, like history repeating itself, Manila is gonna take someone away from me yet again. This person has been the one who comforted be through the darkest days of my life this year. When I was without a job he was the one who soothed my bruised ego and told me something better would come. He was the one who spoils me with those sinful chocolate donuts from Starbucks when I need my sugar fix. He was the one who always surprises me in the middle of the night by rousing me from deep slumber just to go with him drive around the city. He is the one who always hugs me while he sleeps because he cannot sleep without hugging someone. He was the one who insists I wear a ring on my finger even if I hate wearing jewelry. He is the one who insists on having a duplicate copy of the key to my room. He is the one who would drive an hour and a half just to buy me Jollibee and then drive all the way back for another hour and a half.



I am not getting emotional here. Yes, I am not. This person who has somehow shared his life with me for the past seven months is leaving me and I am not getting emotional. I promised myself that I would not be affected by this. I knew this was coming for some months now. He is leaving to pursue his dream. I knew I am part of that dream if I wanted to. I could be. But I refuse to because I am not easily swayed by emotions. This shall pass, I know. If he cares, he would be back and we would pick up where we left off. I am not gonna be affected by his leaving. People leave other people all the time. Just look at airports. And a lot of people come back, too. Goodbyes mean nothing to me. Nothing at all. His leaving will have no effect on me. Nope. None whatsoever. And it is like I can do something about it. He has booked his flight and he is leaving for good.



Oh! F*ck it! F*ck! I give up. I confess I will miss him. I really will. He spoils me too much that I will miss those nights spent in my cramped bed tickling each other. I will miss the way he pouts when he is reading something he does not like, or the way his lips move when he sleeps. I will miss his scent on my bed sheets, that cheap Penshoppe cologne of his that we share. I will miss the donuts from Starbucks that he always brings me. I will miss our arguments and the way he ignores me when he gets mad at something I just did or said. I will miss the touch of his hand when we are in Starbucks, me drinking my coffee and him drinking his AppleBerryJuiceFreeze. I will miss his calls in the middle of the night during my days off when he cannot drive to the city. God! I will miss him and I know I will cry when he leaves. I cannot tell him this because I do not want him to think that I care and that I am affected that he is leaving. It is enough for him to think that his leaving is just one of the facts of life. It is enough for him to think that his leaving does not affect me at all. He knew that I know this was coming. I will miss him and, God! I think I am so used to him being here that there would be a big void in my life once he is gone.



How do I say goodbye to him? How do I say goodbye to someone I do not want to go?

i have been tagged.

And because I am a good blogger, I will give in to this. Thanks to Momel, I now have to announce to the whole blogosphere what I want in a lover. Here goes emotional humiliation!


Instructions:

1. The tagged victim has to come up with 8 different descriptions of their perfect lover.

2. He/she needs to mention the sex/gender of their perfect lover.

3. He/she must tag 8 more people to join this game and leave a comment on their respective sites anouncing that they've been tagged.

4. If tagged a second time, there's no need to post again.


I need someone who is male but is sort of attached to his feminine side. Not too feminine or else we might both be in an eternal squalor as to who gets to use the bathroom the longest. But seriously, I need someone who is secure with his sexuality. No doubting Thomases for me. The following are the characteristics I am looking for in someone I would want to spend eternity with. Well, not exactly eternity but maybe just a portions of it.


~ As Carrie said in Sex and the City, I need someone who can give me real love. I need Ridiculous, inconvenient, consuming, cannot-live-without-each-other love. I do not like public display of affections, though. I want text messages and calls in the middle of the night, I want kisses inside the car while stuck in traffic, I want jealousy, I want one-on-one soccer on a rainy Saturday afternoon, I want to read books with him while lying naked in bed; I want good old fashioned gay love.



~ I want someone who, when he talks, exudes intelligence and humor. It is hard to find someone who can talk about the effects of Chernobyl on nuclear energy projects yet at the same time can make me laugh even at his most corny jokes. I want someone who I can discuss foreign policy with but who can also joke about how odd our president looks like in her clothes. I want someone who is educated but not conceited, serious but not stuck-up.



~ He can play soccer. No need to elaborate this. I play soccer, I enjoy soccer, and he should at least know, if not be good at, soccer.



~ Someone who is willing to sacrifice time, is very patient and understands. I am fickle-minded. I cannot decide about stuff right away and I am a pessimist sometimes. Well, most of the time. And I need someone who can indulge my being fickle and pessimistic.



~ He should be able to tolerate my smoking, or he can smoke with me. He can drink vodka and tequila with me yet should be semi-sober when I am about to pass out.



~ Someone taller than me by an inch or two and someone who is moreno. His eyes should speak. Not too buff or I will be forever jealous and insecure. He should have at least a shoe size of nine or ten. Someone who does not fusses about clothes that much but he should know fashion. Someone who is not vain but takes extra care of his self.



~ Someone who likes to be pampered and wooed. When I am in love (or what seems like it), I always make it a point to spoil that person. He should be able to take in my rather-weird moves. I do random stuffs that are overly romantic at times and I want him not to squirm in shock or humiliation but maybe smile or blush or I dunno.



~ Someone who knows how to love and care and appreciate me. I am easily pleased but I want someone who fusses over me. Someone who will call me nonstop if I cannot be found. Someone who showers me with affection that I can drown in it. Hahaha. I just want someone who will love me. Immensely.



I am tagging the following people. I just want to know if they still believe in love. Haha!


1. Errol
2. Ai-ai
3. James
4. Rex
5. Talia
6. Honeyboi
7. Tricia
8. My sister

sh*t happens.

I just realized something.



I was inside the taxi earlier, stuck in traffic on my way to work, when I just realized that if I want something with my life all I need to do is to go for it. I have been thinking a lot about life stuff lately, as you know. While the taxi driver was talking about some fire that happened somewhere in Cebu last night, I noticed these two girls outside, maybe waiting for a jeepney. They both looked like college girls, seemed oblivious to the heat and the carbon monoxide that they were inhaling. They could pretty much afford to ride a taxi but I think they preferred to experience the thrill of riding amongst different people inside a cramped jeepney. I suddenly realized that life is actually all about choices. I chose to ride a taxi because I want comfort whereas those girls chose to wait under the blistering sun and wait for an overcrowded jeepney because they wanted to ride in one.



In life, we always get to a point where we need to decide where we want to go. I can remember the movie Sliding Doors where the character of Gwyneth Paltrow experienced two different lives just because she missed the tube. I have never been one who considered the what-ifs and the what-could haves. I just go with the flow. I never even recognized until this afternoon that the life I have right now is of my own choosing. Why did I have to struggle with semi-depression and self-doubt when all these were actually my fault? Not fault as in fault. I mean it was my decision to be friendly, to answer calls and to be away from home, right? I can only laugh at myself now for not realizing this earlier. I could have saved myself the hassles of what I just went through. Damn!



I now vow to do everything that I wanted to do with my life. There’s no stopping me now. If I fail, I will fail. I will just count it all to experience then. Who cares? It’s my life anyway and I have already offended and maybe even crossed people before and if need be, I wont care if I will do just that again. There’s a big world out there waiting for me and all I have to do is just go for it. I thought I was mature but now I appreciate the blissfulness of being innocent.



Life is full shit, yes. But if you clean out those shits you would live in a pretty tolerable world.



~~~~~~~



I have seen The Da Vinci Code. Let's just say I should've spent those two and something hours sleeping. Read the book instead.

thoughts

The sky’s slowly turning into a deep shade blue with splashes of orange and vermillion. Here and there you can see some hints of purple and some twinkling stars splashed somewhere in the horizon. The wind is softly rustling the leaves of the young mahogany trees, kissing my skin while I took a drag out of my menthols. Watching the sunset is really one of my most favorite passions. I purposely woke up early today so that I can catch the wonderful display of color at sunset. Sunsets make me nostalgic and right now I badly needed a blast of nostalgia. A lot of things happen during sunsets, at least in my life. It was a nice Sunday afternoon, the kind of late afternoon that makes you wish you were lying in a field somewhere watching the dusk settle down.



Wherever I go, I always make it a point to watch the sunset. Sunsets are romantic. A beautiful sunset is a sign that the evening is going to be beautiful too. I have always preferred dusk over dawn. Sunrise means you have a whole day of toil ahead of you whereas sunset means a day of toil is over and it’s time to unwind. I can still vividly remember those late afternoons in Dumaguete when I would just sit outside the Silliman Church watching the beauty of Mount Talinis during sunset. The sunset today made me wonder if years from now I could still enjoy a sunset the way I take pleasure in it now. Life has been a roller coaster ride for me so far. Everything just seems to be on fast-forward that enjoying a sunset means waking up early. When I was in high school, my friends would often tease me that I’m such a romantic. I can never see the romance of a sun setting before. I just though that it was beautiful. Years later, I realized that indeed sunsets were indeed made for romantic rendezvous. I never had a romantic moment happen during sunset. I know sunsets are romantic because it makes me think about myself and my life.



Staring at the horizon with all these things in my mind, I started on thinking if I have done everything I have wanted. I wanted a lot of things for myself. I never plan, as I’ve said before. I just made mental notes of what I want in my life. I may sound trippy at times and maybe even annoying but I can be serious sometimes. Lately, though, I have been contemplating on this on. Am I really this immature that even my friends, the few ones who know me inside out, don’t take me seriously nowadays? It pains so much that I can never confide to anyone of them the deepest desires that I have. I am someone who wants to fly free and not be confined in a box. I knew this even before I knew the Law of Relativity. Maybe that’s why people turn repulsive towards me when I start talking about stuff. I always express what I feel and I have never been one who tells lies just to make someone feel nice. Nice. What a word. I cannot even describe myself as someone nice. Vulgar, maybe, but nice? I can just laugh.



All traces of sunrays had disappeared in the horizon. I had just finished my fifth stick of menthols. I looked at the sky and found a hundred or so stars twinkling down at me. Why would I care about what people say about me? I never cared before so why now? I think this sunset is making me think too much. The sky just turned a deep shade of blue and before long, it will be completely velvety black. Yeah why care? I just saw one of the perfect sunsets this summer. That would be enough for now.

***photo courtesy of www.deviantart.com***

me and my Starbucks®

The smell of coffee wafts in the air. You can hear the faint sound of jazz from hidden speakers. People are everywhere, sipping from their white coffee mugs, obviously savoring the sweet taste and enjoying a good conversation with friends. Ah! This is what greets you when you enter any Starbucks outlet. Everything just seems so… perfect? Starbucks will always have a spot in my memories. It was in this placed when I found solace during my unemployment days. I would spend every afternoon here just enjoying my Venti Green Tea Blended Frappuccino, smoking my lungs out while contemplating on what to do with my life and what job to accept. It was also here that I met Robin. This was also the place where I reconciled with my sis after two years of ignoring each other. Starbucks is my place. Now people seem to be taking over my place. It’s always crowded. But nevertheless I still love it here. Who wouldn’t want love Starbucks when every time you come here the baristas greet you by your name, makes your usual coffee/frap and even spells your name correctly? It is worth every peso I pay for that Grande cappuccino or that Venti Frap.




I always have my spot in Starbucks Ayala. It’s the second table to your left downstairs facing the lagoon. I get my Grande Toffee Nut Cappuccino, a slice of banana bread, a packet of brown sugar, some table napkins and I am ready for my afternoon of people-gazing and smoking. I just sit there in that little corner and just watch the people go by. I sometimes enjoy watching the frogs jump from one water lily to the next under the wonderful glow of the afternoon sun. Starbucks is the best place to be at when you need to escape from reality for a while. I have been a coffee addict since college and I need at least three large cups of joe to tide me by. Lately though, I have been fixated on espressos. I just love how a double shot of espresso does to my body. It sort of like jolts my body awake. On some days, I even go as far as drinking a quadro. Now, I do not advise doing this if you are not a coffee addict. A quadro will keep you up for days if your body is not used to all that caffeine.




Sitting on that black metal chair smoking menthols and occasionally sipping from my paper cup of heavenly coffee has a therapeutic effect on me. It eases my mind from whatever issue I have ongoing and it makes me enjoy my afternoon. I know that Starbucks is a bit overpriced compared to its local counterparts. They all have the same ambience (hey, Starbucks started the coffee craze) and menus. But trust me, the coffee’s really different. I tried drinking coffees from different coffee shops but I find their coffee too sweet or too weak. Plus, they don’t have friendly baristas. I think Starbucks train their baristas to be friendly and to always remember their customers. It’s not just the coffee, though. In Starbucks, you get to sit in über-comfy sofas on top of drinking high-grade coffee.




My love for Starbucks goes beyond coffee and sofas. It’s the whole experience, really. Just the thought that I will be enjoying my coffee in solitude is reason enough for me to always go back to Starbucks. Even through the din of the afternoon crowd, Starbucks always brings me to this place where I know only I exist. And those frogs in the lagoon.




How about you? What is your Starbucks story?

trapped in a corner

I am surrounded by a lot of friends but why am I feeling so alone?



And not just alone but I feel like I don’t have friends at all. I am someone who doesn’t choose friends. If I like you and you’re cool and we hit it off, then we’re friends. In fact, I am forever surrounded by friends: at the office, at home, at the mall, and even when I eat. I just have so many friends (acquaintances that turn into constant companions that end up being my friends) that sometimes I wonder what I’d do if don’t have friends. Life is actually a bliss if you’ve got friends around. I have been blessed with some very good friends who have been with me through the rough roads and the cross roads of my life. Some of my closest friends have been with me ever since God-knows-when. Lately, though, I feel like I am all alone. I don’t know why I am feeling this way. I have actually read somewhere that most young people nowadays experience the Quarter-Life Crisis. I tried to check it out in Wikipedia and here’s what I got.



The act of being alone is good. It makes you think about stuff and about your life. What I do not like is the feeling of being alone. I thrive on friendship and communication. Even without a mobile phone, I always try my best to reach out to friends. This feeling of being alone is already driving me mad. I have never felt this way before. I have come to realize, though, that even with a hundred friends around you there’s just about a handful that’ll be there with you through and through. But where’s this handful now? I am not blaming my friends for what I am going through right now. Nor am I implying that that they have abandoned me. I have them with me still. But why do I feel this way? Have I really been too emotionally-dependent on others? Do I have to start living by myself and come to terms with the fact that one day soon I would indeed be alone with no one to run to but myself?


I cringe at that thought. If this is how it's going to be for the rest of my life then I would rather prefer to die right now. I am not kidding. People are social beings; we all thrive for attention and the comfort of friendship. I hate this feeling. I hate myself for feeling this way. I am currently at my most productive years. These are the times that should be spent on squandering life away on things that are useless so that when I grow old I can look back and say “I did it all and I did not regret a thing”. But did I really do it all? Am I now regretting every decision I have done? Is this the how my emotion is coping up with the things I have done so far?

Oh! Help me sort my life out, please.

***photo courtesy of Ting***

movies galore

Movies for me are an escape from the here and now. It brings me to this make-believe place where everything is nice and the lighting is perfect. Here's a list of the movies that has changed my view of life.

http://www.hotfreelayouts.com/movies.php

How about you? What movies do you watch to escape life's blahs?

home sweet home... NOT!

My trip home was horrible.



So much for all the hype and the drama that I have led myself into within this past week. It was freaking boring. My parents were cool, though. We did get to talk a little. The party for my dad was filled with his friends. No children-of-the-friends whatsoever. I ended up playing with the computer at home. The only nice thing about home is the internet connection. I was expecting that DSL connection in a small town is like dial-up in a big city. But it was pretty fast. I downloaded mp3s and I was able to update some programs. I even downloaded Limewire and iTunes for my iPod.



So instead of waiting for another twenty-four hours, I came back yesterday. I cannot bear it staying in that boring town with no one to talk to but my sister and my parents. I love them, but I am really the type to talk family stuff. I am a city person and small towns freak me out. I get sort of claustrophobic.


~~~~~~~~~~


I just did something horrible and unspeakable.



I slept with his bestfriend. I know that makes me a two-timer and a whore. But it wasn’t like we planned it. It was ‘spontaneous’. He was not here and I needed someone to help me finish the bottle of Absolut Citron I brought from home. Anyway, his bestfriend was okay. He was game. And I know I’m gonna have a guilt-trip when I see him next week. My dilemma now is: to tell him or not to tell him. Nah. What he knows won’t hurt him.

why harry loathes draco

This actually gonna be an ode to Brew, who had Superman check out Batman's pole. But this is much subtler, kind of like PG-13. Hahaha.





I know. I know. J.K. Rowling must be fuming mad. But what can I do? I say it's really true; the saying the more you hate, the more your love, or should it be lust in this case? They do look good together, don't you think?

this hit me like a schoolbus early in the morning

If You Forget Me

I want you to know one thing.

You know how this is: if I look at the crystal moon,

at the red branch of the slow autumn at my window,

if I touch near the fire the impalpable ash or the wrinkled body of the log,

everything carries me to you, as if everything that exists:

aromas, light, metals,

were little boats that sail toward those isles of yours that wait for me.

Well, now, if little by little you stop loving me I shall stop loving you little by little.

If suddenly you forget me do not look for me, for I shall already have forgotten you. If you think it long and mad, the wind of banners that passes through my life,

and you decide to leave me at the shore of the heart where I have roots,

remember that on that day,

at that hour,

I shall lift my arms and my roots will set off to seek another land.

But if each day, each hour,

you feel that you are destined for me with implacable sweetness,

if each day a flower climbs up to your lips to seek me,

ah my love, ah my own,

in me all that fire is repeated, in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,

my love feeds on your love, beloved,

and as long as you live it will be in your arms without leaving mine.

-- Pablo Neruda--

charity, life and watches

The sky was overcast today. No sun peeked out of the low clouds. I read somewhere yesterday that the typhoon that hit our islands already killed about twenty people, which makes it so sad. Imagine living in a country where you can drive anywhere without having to haul your car in a barge to get to another province and where a typhoon in the middle of summer is unheard of. But we have to deal with where we’re at.




Typhoons here in the Philippines are as common as snow in Iceland. So, instead of wailing over who died and what town was totally erased, I think it might be better for us to think about how to help those who were hardly affected. I am no Princess Di but I think one of the things I realized so far this year is that every little bit of help counts. I know I’m in a rut but there’s probably someone out there who’s in deeper sh*t than I am. And although it is not my personal duty to alleviate that person’s sh*tty life, it is morally-correct to lend a hand and maybe share a bit of what you have. Who knows, you might be able to save a life and make someone’s dream come true even if you’re struggling to make yours a reality. A little kindness would not kill you. So, go find out how you can help. It’s not just fashionable to be charitable (Angelina Jolie, is that you?) but it’s also heart-warming.




Well as I was saying earlier, the sky was overcast and gray. No hint of sunshine whatsoever. Summer is indeed over. I was like thinking this would end soon so that I can enjoy the a few days of sun damage in a beach before the rains come in full force. Ha! Wishful thinking. But, that’s life. Sometimes it’s easier not to plan things. The more plans you have, the more chances of you getting disappointed. I hate cancelled plans. It makes me furious at myself for not overseeing everything that might happen. Then I end up in some sort of mild depression. I am not a perfectionist, if you’re already thinking that I might be. That’s why I said I don’t plan my life. I just let it be. I don’t even wear a watch. I have watches, maybe four or five. I even have a vintage Rolex from my dad who got it from his dad. But wearing those watches just makes me conscious of how much time I’ve wasted on something or of what I do. I have always been someone who lives for the moment, even way back in high school. Not worrying about tomorrow is liberating. It frees up your mind and body from all the stress that comes with planning and disappointments from things not done.




Life is already hard; worrying about stuff that hasn’t happened yet is like adding more despondency on your current life load. People say that life is kind and that if you work hard and make your self follow your goals, life will reward you. But that is all crap, trust me. In reality, life is actually cruel, if you come to think of it now. I am not a pessimistic perfectionist, if that’s what your mind is shouting right now. I am just stating the truth. Life, no matter how you twist with every bludger it throws your way or how you turn at every corner it brings you to, will always win in the end. Because you are at its mercy. You need life. So did I just make myself clear as to why it is more prudent not to plan your life? I have always believed that living a day at a time is the best way to live life. It spares you from the bondage of tomorrow and it makes your yesterday so much nicer.

So throw your Cartier Tanks out that window. You don’t need a watch; no matter how expensive it is, if you plan on enjoying your life. Time ticks when you’re having fun, that I’m sure. It’s also going to tick even if you’re at your lowest. And, as sure as I am that the Hermes Birkin will always be a fiction of daydreams, time will still tick even if you’re six feet under.

home sweet f*cking home

Home is always where the heart is. Even if you're too old for some maternal loving or too young to realize it's value, home is always a place where I feel protected. Home just brings out the child in me. Who wouldn't want breakfast in bed or a glass of hot chocolate and a piece of cookie while watching late night re-runs of Sex and the City without the hassle of thinking about work the next day?



Home for me will always be that not-so-little house on a street ina quaint town in Negros where all the love (and good food) is at. Makes me cry a tear or two just thinking about home. Haha!



Here're reasons why I miss home.



1. My bedroom. I have spent one sleepless night making up the walls of my bedroom. It's covered in magazine ads from every luxury label (I know this is not an original idea, but it is cool, though) I know: Vuitton to Escada. I tore up about sixty issues of Vogue from 1998 to 2003. It was a labor of love and lust and greed. And my bed with it's padded headboard. God I miss that bed! And my books! Don't even mention my magazine collection.



2. My dog. My dad gave me a dog for my twentieth birthday. And I haven't even met the mutt! Hehehe. I know I am worse than Paris. But what can I do? I am here living my sinful life and I cannot have a dog hold me down from doing what I love doing. Right? I still want to meet my dog, though.



3. My mom's Paksiw na Bangus. My mom cooks heavenly paksiw. But I know that every mom does. I can never really explain it why mothers always cook such delectable food. It's not just her pawsik na bangus, it's like everything she cooks is delicious.



4. My early morning walks. I used to wake up very early, like four fucking am when I was still in Negros. I would walk from our house to the Business Park and I would just stroll around the Park. I even sighted this celebrity who is married to our former congressman doing her early morning jog. I miss the clean air and the wide open spaces and the smell of freshly cut grass early in the morning.



5. Sitting on my friend's house's porch doing nothing. My friend Jae has the best house in the world. At least for me. Her house is on one of the main streets of our town and used to just sit on their porch and just do nothing. She would sometimes play with the guitar while i flip through Cosmo. I know, we were young then and reading an article titled "How to Please Your Man" is so liberating. We just spend afternoons and evenings on her porch and that would be like the best thing to do during boring summer days and nights.



6. Eating batchoy with pan de sal in the bus terminal. I know this sounds so ghetto, but trust me, there's this store in the bus terminal that makes really good batchoy. If you're from Negros, you're used to eating batchoy. It's like taho if you're from Manila. It's everywhere. SO for me to say that this batchoy from this certain place is good is like an understatement. I used to eat batchoy here with my friends during late afternoons when the urge to do something hits us. And I also like their puto.



7. My cousins. I have six grade school-age cousins and a three year old nephew who I just cannot get enough of. I hate kids. Really. I cannot be in one place full of kids. It freaks me out. I know kids are fun and all but I just can't stand them. But my cousins and my nephew, they're something else. I love them even if they're rowdy. I miss taking them to Jollibee and to the park.



8. Drinking sprees in Barrio Fiesta or the Kiosks at Center Mall. We used to hang out at the Kiosks under the acacia trees in this place we call Center Mall. It's like a park. We drink San Mig Lights or Red Horse and we would act like grown-ups discussing about life stuff in in fact we were just a bunch of college students too young to be drinking alcohola nd too young to have life issues.



9. Attending Sunday mass at STV-R. This used to be a family event, well if you count children without their parents family then it was a family event. My sister used to go to mass together every Sunday in this chapel. It was such a 'social' event. I think that experience made me stop going to church altogether. Going to church just for the 'social' part of it is not my idead what what religionn should be. But nevertheless it was something that I'd like to experince all over again. I get to see people I rarely see. And at the chapel, no less.



10. My family. Althought I cannot say my family is the best, I'd still give up everything just to spend time with them. Well, not totally everything but almost everything. I just miss the way my mom fuss over things and the way my dad gives me that stern look when I go home late or go out late. Normal, dysfunctional family stuff still makes me giddy. Dinners together, Sunday lunches, merienda galore... Ahhh! I miss that already.





How about you? What makes your home (or hometown) special?

soundtrack of my life

There things in life that we should not take for granted. Music is one of those. Without music, life would be like a fantastic movie on mute. Here are some albums that make up the soundtrack of my life:

create your own list at:

http://www.hotfreelayouts.com/music.php

in denial and hating it

I miss home.



I have never been home in two years and five months. I have been independence-hungry when I left our little town in Negros and I promised myself then that spending twenty years of my uneventful life in that ‘quaint’ town was already enough. I knew then that leaving would be a step further in achieving my dream. So, like any other twenty-something with big dreams and no money, I asked my parents that I needed to re-think and re-assess my life. They sent me here, to Cebu, to think about stuff. I was actually wishing that they’d send me to Manila. I planned to just bum it out here and think on what I would want with my life when a friend actually dragged me with her when she applied in an outsource company. So to make it short, I ended up answering calls and helping Americans everyday. I almost forgot about my life and the reason why I was here. My parents were adamant at first with my working as a callboy. They were totally against it. But I was stubborn and I wanted it my way. So I had it my way. And I have never went home, not even for holidays, after that.



So imagine my surprise when I got a call from my dad. His birthday is coming up. He was not begging but I kept on joking that he was indeed begging me to come home. Or even visit them. I told him that we just saw each other three weeks ago. He and my mom visit my sister who is in college here from time to time, so what’s the point of my going home? Right? I have never been one who gets emotional easily. I have always prided myself as someone who gets a grip on his emotions. My friends know that whenever they need emotional advise, or just someone to talk to about emotional stuff like boyfriends, girlfriends, parents, dogs, etc., etc. I am not the one to approach. I don’t keep what I feel to myself, if that’s what you’re thinking now. I talk to my best friend or my sister. I just don’t like it when a situation calls for emotions. I tend to steer away from stuff like that and as much as possible I want people to think that I am strong and independent.



Lately, though, I have been having bouts with my self. I hate to admit it but I feel homesick once in a while. I hate myself for feeling this way but I cannot deny it that I’ve been longing for home. I have spent four years of my life living in sin away from home when I was in college. I never even went home for term breaks and summer breaks. And now, now that I am already independent (sort-of) and earning my own money and living in more sin, I long for home. Carrie did not long for home. Why should I? I know Carrie is fictional, and this is not the Big Apple and I also know that no matter how insincere and sinful I am, there would still be a very small part of me that yearns for family. Maybe it’s because I am Filipino, or maybe it’s just because I am homesick. But whatever that reason would be, I still do not see the point of me missing home. Where did this come from? I am not like THIS. This is not ME.



I guess I am just maturing. So this is it. I have always longed for the day when I would be mature enough to accept things as they are. I can still remember my rebellious self ages ago. I’d always go against what’s conventional and looking back, I knew I looked and acted like a fool. Maybe there is a reason why parents act the way they do their children are trying to be ‘angst-y’. I don’t know. I’m in confusion still. Missing home is just normal for you and that person behind you and your neighbor. But not for me because missing home is a sign of weakness. I am not weak. Or was not weak. I am flying home on Tuesday and I do not know if I ‘ready’. But one thing I do know is that I am not getting any younger and that it’d mean the world to my dad to see his eldest son visit him for his fiftieth birthday. I think as a selfish son for this whole time, I owe this to my dad. You may not know it and my friends might not know it and I may even not admit it before, but what the heck! I miss home and I am going home.



There.




I am going home.




~~~

By the way, that picture up there shows how close I was to going home last year. In the horizon you can see Negros island. See, I am really homesick!

~~~

two thousand songs and still counting...

Two thousand ten songs to be exact. That's the number of songs I currently have in my iPod. I have never considered myself a 'techie' person. Owning a mobile phone has been enough for me. I won't even go as far as touching my friend's PS2! But when I got my iPod (3rd generation 20 G), my life changed.








I now guard my iPod with my life, even as far as splurging on a Capdase soft jacket to keep it safe from dust and what-have-yous and an Altec Lansing iM3 iPod speaker. Hmm... But really, I'm unravelling my techie self. It's such a budget-blower but it's worth every cent. I just hope my iPod can help when I'm in hell. Harharhar. Just poke me in the back with your Chanel-painted nails if you need something, I'll be listening to Bob Sinclair sing about Love...

raindrops on my window

Don’t you just love it when it rains?



I love it when I am outdoors and the sky if slowly turning into dark grey and you can smell the impending rain with the wind blowing dried leaves. Imagine how nice it is to see the first few drops of rain and you have nothing with you but your messenger bag and no place to take cover. Oh! I just love it! I love the smell of rain on the ground and the feeling of being slightly wet. I love the way how the raindrops fall on the windshield of my car or on the windows of my room. I love it when it’s raining so hard and I am stuck indoors and I just came from the shower and the air conditioner is on full blast and you suddenly get the urge to just go out and get wet or maybe make yourself a big cup of hot chocolate with large marshmallows and snuggle under covers with a thick copy of Vogue or a good book and the lights are dimmed.



Oh! I just love it when it rains.



I don’t know why but I just love it when rains. Other people would curse the rain, I know. But, what can I do? I just love the rain! In college, whenever I feel that it’s about to rain, I would always make an excuse to go to the library. I would sit in *my* desk by the windows in the second floor, grab my favorite copy of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice and wait for the rain to come. And when it comes, I love watching the people scamper from the soccer field towards the library for cover, how the rain would shower the carabao grass in the soccer field and how that sweet smell of rain always makes my nose twitch.


I have a lot of memories that always happened before, during, and after a rain or thunderstorm. I will never forget that one afternoon in high school when my whole class was in the soccer field practicing for our Citizen’s Army Training inspection and it just suddenly rained so hard. And I mean so hard. We, all two hundred five of us, ended up playing in the rain. I know we were a sight to behold, all of us wearing white tees and jeans. Or there was this time when I was on the beach with my mom one afternoon. It was one of those rare times when I am alone with my mom. We were in this beach outside the city (a mere ten minute-drive) when all of a sudden it rain. Not a heavy one but still enough to wet us both. We ended up swimming in the beach and laughing our hearts out at what we did. It was one of the most special moments I’ve had with my mom that I’d always remember. Or that afternoon when I was on a *bus* on my way to college. I was alone, it was raining and I had no sweater with me. It was so damn cold and I badly needed the comfort of my room. That four-hour trip to college was the longest ride I had. It made me independent. I guess that was one of the turning points of my pathetic life.



Rain will always have a special place in my heart. It’s almost the end of summer and today is the first shower for summer. I cannot wait when August comes. I can only imagine myself sitting on a beach somewhere while it’s raining and I can see the thousand or so raindrops coming into contact with the serene sea while there’s a flash of lightning somewhere in the horizon.



It’s raining still and I love it.

being single and loving it

This "poem" was actually emailed to me by my good friend Talia.

She's one of the hottest chick I know who doesn't need a man to complete her fabulous life.

And I bet she spammed this to make some single friend feel comforted.

Well, if that friend is me, then no need for poetry to make me feel loved.

A Louis Vuitton bag would do.

Being single gives you the space to grow
and be the person you want to be.

Sometimes, it’s harder to grow when you are too close to someone.

Trees are planted far apart so they can spread their branches

and become strong as they mature.

Being single means learning to live by yourself.

Being single means freedom,

you are free to spend a week’s vacation at the beach,
To take computer courses,
To spend the day in the bed with a good book,
Or simply being with a dear friend.

Being single means learning not to need a man to make your life more meaningful.

Being single means that sometimes you muse if marriage is better.
Ironically, yet quite happily, it is liking and respecting who you are and why you are.

Being single is realizing that getting married
Is not necessarily better.

It is merely being different.
Being single means that there could be something wonderful around the corner
and you can take advantage of it ;)

Being single simply means
You are free to love again.

the quest for happiness and a piece of Jollibee Chicken Joy

What makes you happy?

I have been mulling about this thought in the shower earlier. With all the rants and ramblings that I have been posting here about my *job*, you might be thinking that I am hard to please. I looked up happiness in a dictionary and here’s what I got:

Happiness
n 1: state of well-being characterized by emotions ranging from contentment to intense joy

Contentment? Intense joy? That caught me off-guard. Nowhere in the definition does it say “Louis Vuitton” or “Citizens of Humanity” or even “iPod”.

Yeah, I know. I am shallow. But what can I say? Living in our world today, one (even those priests!) oftentimes equates happiness with some material stuff. I’d be a god-damned hypocrite if I say that I would not be happy if someone would give me a brand new Vertu phone. You see, nowadays, everything has a price. And, yes, even happiness. Just look at MasterCard’s tag line and you’ll know what I mean. So, as I was saying, I was in the shower when the thought of what makes me happy came into my mind. What really makes us happy? I know for sure that my job isn’t gonna be on that list. Come to think of it, I am not alone in this *rut*. I know I am just one of the thousands, millions even, of twenty-something people who stick it out with their jobs for the sake of security. I am a non-conformist, yes, but there’s still a part of me that’s holding me from being adventurous these days. If I’d have it my way, I should be out there in the asphalt jungle called Makati, toiling it out in magazine as an editorial assistant or maybe a stylist. What’s really holding me? This job does pay my credit card bills and then some. But this is not the kind of job I have been lusting over. Now if you ask me if I am happy, I’d tell yes. But not contended. And what really makes me happy? I’m not a socialite-slash-millionaire-slash-bitch that needs a Manolo fix to keep him happy. I’m really down-to-earth with simple wants.

I get happy easily but lately I’ve haven’t been feeling it. Here are few things in life that keeps me grounded and makes me happy...

~ I’m a Chicken Joy fanatic. If you’re a true-blue Pinoy, I know you’d have
the same feelings as I do when you see a box of two-piece Jollibee Chicken Joy. Ever since I was a young fag, eating a Chicken Joy is really one of life’s pleasures. Even now. I could easily go for a fillet mignon or an Angus rib eye steak but no. When I feel down and kinda depressed, I just go to the nearest Jollibee take-out counter and indulge myself in a Chicken Joy, calories and cholesterol included. (photo credit: http://jollibee.deviantart.com/ )

~ My *happy scent* is not Clinique Happy, but from a blue plastic bottle called Johnson&Johnson’s Baby Cologne in Regular. I love Clinique Happy but whenever I feel like reminiscing on the happy moments of my still un-eventful life, I just reach for my bottle of Johnson’s Regular and I’d be transported back to the days when Spice Girls rule the world, Dawson was all agog about Joey and with pastel colors on my nails. I always have it on my grocery list and I know that it would not fail me every time I splash it on. (photo credit: pinoy2pac's eBay listing )

~ Lift your head, baby don’t be scared/ Of the things that could go wrong along the way/ You’ll get by with a smile/ You can’t win at everything but you can try

Who could ever forget them? They occupied my nights and my afternoons with their *kanto tunes*. I have every single album they have: from Ultraelectromagneticpop to Cutterpillow to Aloha Milky Way. Every time I hear any of their songs; be it inside a taxi, in the department store, from my iPod or just anywhere, I always remember those sunny afternoons in high school when me and my friends would just sit under the big acacia trees near the soccer field clutching our Discmans with their albums inside our Jansport bags and happily singing to Alapaap. Eraserheads still make me happy. Even if they’ve split, their songs still make me happy and wish I was back in high school, un-nerved and un-aware of the big, bad world around me. God! I miss Eli’s voice! (photo credits: www.wikipedia.org )

~ You could traipse with me inside Rustan’s and look for a nice FCUK tee, or maybe coerce me into trying on that really nice beige tee in ArmaniExchange or maybe even trick me into buying that utterly-expensive D&G tee but nothing, and I mean nothing, can keep me from wearing (and buying!) brand-less white tees. I have quite a collection: Giordano, Walker, Hanford and, heck, I even have a Guitar! I’m addicted to white tees and nothing will stop me from buying (hoarding might be the right word) inexpensive white tees. White tees make me happy, wearing ‘em makes me feel light and glorious. Whenever I see a white tee in a nice material (preferably cotton or cotton-mix), I just have to buy it. White is my favorite color, just so you'd know. (photo credits: www.t-shirts.com)





~ I love shoes. I have more than one fag should have. I have shoes in different designs and brands and types. But why, oh why, do I always reach for a pair of tsinelas whenever I head out? I always have this affinity for dressing down an outfit. I’m at my happiest when the sun is out and the sky is blue and I’m wearing my white Havs. Or any of my Havs, for that matter. As long as I am in tsinelas, I am a happy fag. I think I feel this way about flip-flops because I’m Pinoy. The tsinelas will always be a staple in every Pinoy’s wardrobe. Hell, I can even remember myself when I was in my Malcolm-in-the-Middle years, wearing red Spartans and playing tumbang preso with my cousins in my abuelita’s house late in the afternoon. (photo credits: www.havaianasus.com )



There! I feel lighter now that I have got that down into writing. I knew I was always a jologs by heart (that word! that is so… jologs?). These are just some of the simple pleasure that I indulge myself in when I’m feeling down and depressed.

How about you? What makes you happy?

why Preview?

Yes, why Preview? Why not Vogue or Elle? Or Metro?

Well, I go for Preview for a lot of reasons, being nationalistic is one. Being fashion-conscious is another. Preview actually has been around for ten years now. It's the most fashion-forward Filipino magazine. The layout and art direction for it's covers and features are simply stunning! It's not just a fashion magazine; it's a manual (for it's features on what's in and out, what's hot and not), a guidebook (for it's articles that tackles everything from ukay-ukay to botox to travel and so on), an art collectible (for it's very tasteful and artictic fashion spreads) and an heirloom (hey, you can hand it down to your daughter, sister, mother, cousin, friend, etc... after you have devoured it's glossy pages!).
Preview is also the only Filipino magazine that I can put right next to Vogue and Elle. I wouldn't be ashamed to bring it with me on a plane bound for Paris (if ever I'd get the chance to, hehehe!). I choose Preview because as I've said, I'm nationalistic. It's the only magazine so far that features Filipino talent/s at it's finest. It just makes me blush with pride whenever I see a Preview fashion spread that features gowns by Jun Escario alongside a pair of stilettos by Prada with bags by Aranaz or Bea Valdes. Gosh, I can even go on and on here how Preview made me change my mind on Filipino fashion magazines.
But enough said here. Just go grab a copy of their latest issue and you'll know why I'm ranting like a deprived socialite here. Toodles!

~photo credits: www.summitmedia.com.ph~

loco over LV, part two

Did I mention that I am currently obssessed (yet again!) with Louis? As a clothes-whore, I have never gravitated towards logos, really. I don't want to be branded as a walking advertisement (make that a walking billboard!). But lately, I am lusting over anything LV. I do own an LV Monogram Speedy 30 (something I ransacked from mi mama's closet) but that's the most logo-ed thing I have in my meager closet. And I don't even use it that much. God! I know I'm walking on thin ice already with my three plastics, what more if I give in to this obssession right now and buy myself an LV Monogram overnighter?

Can someone please knock some sense into my *fag-mind*?

loco over LV, part one

I pity my iPod. It's still wrapped in an outdated Capdase soft jacket in a hideous shade of lime green. If you have some moolah to spare, please have pity on my iPod and surprise me with this iPod case. I will forever be grateful.

what a *stressful* life, indeed

There is a GOD, after all!

If you can remember, last night I was going all diva about being stuck here at work, yada, yada, yada. But guess what happened? I did an under-time (with approval, of course), went home, changed into party clothes and before I even realized it I was inside the VIP lounge of Club VUDU chilling to house tunes, kinda tipsy from the Cuervo gold shots and sipping a cold, cold bottle of SMB Light. God, it felt nice to be around ‘real’ people again! The music was mixed by a Manila DJ (a Club Embassy DJ, I guess.) and the crowd was more than perfect. Downstairs in the Vudu Mainroom, it was RnB tunes but inside the VIP room, it was just chill out music, lots of Hed Kandi (which I so likey!!!). After like an hour and thirty minutes of chilling out, my friends decided that we need to sweat it out (it’s Friday night! Hel-lo!) So off to Pump we go! God, I missed Pump! It was packed, as usual. We grinded and gyrated to RnB and hip-hop tunes while sipping more SMBs, this time it was Extra Strong. I have already banned myself from tequila in Pump because of one very embarrassing incident that happened a month and a half ago concerning moi, two bottles of tequila and some strangers. But anyway, it was a good way to end my Friday.

After a eating out a storm in Goodah Gud, Lahug and after a hot shower, I suddenly imagined myself at forty-three years old, still in Guess? Jeans, Armani tees and Nike sneakers and dancing in Vudu. Do I really want to spend my days (or nights, rather) like this? I mean, the party scene will always charm me with its disco balls and vodka shots. My question is, how long do I have to be a slave for this nightlife? Yes, partying in Club VUDU did fulfill a need in me that was so enormous and yes, dancing in Pump was the most exhilarating thing I did in weeks. But for what? I have always dreaded the moment I would ask myself that question. I am young and I need to mingle with the young crowd. But why do I feel like I’m too old for the club scene? Shucks! This is what I have been talking about. A shrink could easily answer this question for me, or better yet, a shrink would make me answer this myself without the added stress.

God! All these ramblings over a deprived *social* life.

it's Friday night and the lights are low

It’s Friday night.

My friends are going out later. And I am here sitting in my station under the air conditioner vent and I am freezing cold. What a nice way to spend a nice summer Friday night, right? Shit! I hate this schedule? Or have I ranted about this before? Why can’t I just love this schedule? People around me with the same schedule are enjoying it. They say that it’s the “perfect” schedule. Yeah, right! Perfect schedule my arse! I cannot spend my best years worrying about stuff like this. I should be out there partying, enjoying life, smoking death sticks and drinking all the vodka and tequila and beer my fat arse can take. I should not be “contained” in this boring room full of people who are happy and contented with what they have. I cannot feel like this everyday. I should just resign, right? But what other option do I have? Spend my days in rural Negros and bitch about why I resigned from a life that would lead me to THE life? Not in a hundred years. But, let me ask you again, what other option do I have? Huh? What?

Anyway, enough about depressing stuff. I just need to chill out, I know. I watched Prime the other day and it got me into thinking about getting a shrink. i think it's a nice idea coz it’ll actually free up my mind about stuff and let me “delegate” my stress to someone else. Hehehe. A boyfriend (well, for now, I think) is out of the question. I’m a commitment-phobe. I hate it when I have to commit to someone. I’m young. Why waste the freedom? It has always been an issue with my past relationships. Not that I can call ALL of those serious. Maybe one or two or three. So, back to the shrink, do you think it’s worth it getting one now? I have so much left-over angst from my teenage years that I feel like unburdening it now.

I don’t have my best friend here, so I cannot talk to her about all these stuff. Hel-lo! Long distance calls costs an arm and a leg. A shrink would be cheaper and better because I’d be paying him/her/it to listen to me rant about my so-called complicated life and he/she/it cannot blackmail me about those stuff. Talking to a friend about life issues is kind of tricky. I know I can trust my friends not to talk about my problems and issue but you’ll never know when they’ll use it against you. Life’s complicated enough as it is, how much more if you have a friend blackmailing you coz you did not accompany her to the mall to stalk on her boyfriend who, according to her, is cheating on her and now they on the brink of a breakup because you did not accompany her stalk on him!

Talking about stalking, I had this weird dream this morning. I don’t know if I have told you about that guy who was like stealing glances at me for a span of one week ( I know I can be self-centered sometimes. But what can I do? He really was stealing glances at me while we were cooped up in that stinky training room). Well, anyway, he was in my dream and this time I was the one stalking him. Weird. I don’t stalk on people, well, maybe except for this one time when I followed this guy I was crushing on in college. He was like everywhere and I was also like everywhere. We eventually became friends and the ‘crush-factor’ diminished because I found out that he snores when he sleep and he eats like a pig. But that dream, really, it got me into thinking about my life. Do I want ‘stalk’ on my dreams and goals for the rest of my life? I have been wanting to pursue a career in fashion/editing/styling for like three years now. I even went as far as applying for a slot in some prestigious fashion schools in the States and in Europe but nothing came out of that. I think I need a real push to do this and I don’t know. What I need right now is a week’s worth of ‘soul-searching’, and that means uninterrupted shopping trips, limitless credit limit, cups upon cups of green tea and boxes upon boxes of Go Nuts peanut butter zigzags.

God I need a vacation! Book me a flight to Palawan and a week at Amapulo fast!

of white tees, rest days and summer escapades...

I just got back from my rest day. Days, I mean.

I was itching to update this blog over my rest days but the fat pig that I am, I just spent forty eight hours inside my friends’ apartment, doing a Sex and the City marathon (again!) while munching on tamarind jam sandwiches. I know, it’s kinda eww (the tamarind jam, you bozo!) but I got nothing better to do. It’s was like a hundred degrees outside and no gay, even in his insane mind, would go out there and suffer the heat, not to mention the UV rays. It was nice, watching Carrie and the girls go about their all-too-familiar New York lives for the nth time. And not to mention having a dreamless sleep for like hours. That was the real icing on top of my cake a.k.a. un-eventful rest days. Maybe that’s why they call it “rest day” so that you can rest your fat arse off. I never really did realize that before. Rest days for me then would mean scampering around Ayala during the day while sipping one too many Rhumba frappacinnos, and at night partying my tired body to a drunken stupor in Club Vudu/Pump/Veranda while smoking my lungs to death. God I miss those days! But what can I do? I’m sort of like maturing (yeah, right!) nowadays. Partying just won't agree with me anymore.

By the way, I was flipping through some old Preview magazines (it’s like the equivalent of Vogue here in the Philippines) and I just realized, yet again, how I need to break away from this job. Why can’t I just be happy and contented like everyone else? I always knew from the bottom of my faggoted fat heart that I was meant to work in the fashion industry. Hell, I’d give an arm and a leg to work as an assistant to the secretary of the personal assistant of the personal secretary of Muicca Prada. Or maybe Inno Sotto? Haaay! I guess I’ll just have to give up on that dream for now. Being here in Cebu has been the greatest thing that ever happened to my short, uneventful life so far. Manila can wait. And, I know, so can New York.

In the meantime, let me just ask you how many white tee shirts should one vain gay (like me) have? I just got my laundry yesterday and I went through the laundry list. I could not help but gasp (hahaha! Yeah gasp, as in comic book-like GASP) when I found out that I have such an enormous number of white stuff. Going through my closet, here’s what I have:

· 56 plain white tee shirts
· 4 pairs of white pants
· 6 white button down shirts
· 2 pairs of white shorts
· 3 white wife beaters

Imagine, fifty six white tee shirts. Hell! I never realized I had that many white tees. No wonder my laundry bill’s kinda enormous, maybe that’s for all the hand washing and the bleach (I actually have this very stringent rule about washing white clothes: it should be hand washed). Thinking about it, I don’t regret having too many white clothes. White is good. It’s fresh and it’s always safe. Not that I do not enjoy being a non-conformist to fashion rules. And besides, white is the color of the season.

I know. This just shows how bored I am. Counting white clothes on a very nice Wednesday night is not my idea of fun. But what can I do? I’m a loser these days with my killer schedule. It just destroys my day whenever I think about my schedule. My schedule! Which, I just found out, will be my schedule for the rest of May. I guess I should kiss this summer goodbye. I won’t be having a summer escapade, after all. And if you are a call girl, or a call boy, with the best schedule and the best rest days, please go out and tan yourself for me. Just tell me if you need some sunblock or some suntan. I have lots stocked up at home.

Bantayan Island, Summer of 2005 (courtesy of Joy)

*Sigh* Goodbye, Summer of 2006! You can start laughing at me now. Thank you.

ain't this cool?

I just dont have anything to do. It's a freaking holiday and here I am bored out of my wits at work. How come I'm here working my arse off when it's supposed to be Labor Day? Hmmm... I dunno about you but holiday pay do sounds good.

are you blogginmad already?

damnation of a hallucinated alex|hates

My life is doomed.

Well, my social life, that is. Or what seems like it. You see, I am one of those unfortunate twenty-something people who's too lazy to find a real job and instead opted to answer calls from freaky foreigners during ungodly hours in exchange for easy moolah. I have been enduring this job for the past two years now and it's just now that I have felt the consequences of working for an offshore call center. I used to get a lot of mileage out of my old schedulde: I get my weekends off, or I get to come in early morning. But with my current f*cking schedule, I felt like I've literally committed suicide. My days off are mid-week and I come in at six in the evening. Imagine! F*cking six in the f*cking evening! And I have to toil it out here until f*cking three in the f*cking morning! Where does that leave me during Friday and Saturday nights? Nowhere!

I don't know what to do anymore. I rarely go out these days in the first place and with the f*ck up schedule that I have, I may have to kiss going out goodbye. I never really intended to work in this industry. Before, I cannot imagine myself answering calls deep into the night when most of my friends are somewhere out there intoxicated with vodka and tequila and gyrating to house music. I have always been a nocturnal brute, prancing around town with my nocturnal clique. And for this very same reason I agreed to answer those calls, thinking it was to my f*cking advantage. But it's killing me instead! Well, you cannot really blame me. I get paid more by doing practically nothing. But it never occured to me that it would kill my night life. Two years down the road and that night life is almost non-existent.

It's summer now and in my pre-outsourced life I usually spend cold summer nights inside bars dancing to house beats while sipping a bottle of cold beer. Or you'd find me in a beach somewhere with friends enjoying the warm ocean water under the moonlight. But look at me now! I'm as pale as a dead model (though not as thin) and I am here sitting in front of a god-forsaken monitor watching the different time zones across America waiting for a freaky call to come in. Indeed my life is doomed. I need change. Please go find me a nice job in a nice advertising agency somewhere in nice New York. Save me from damnation, please. And hurry.

Damn it! I have a call.