Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Are you sure that it's the money?

I was surfing the net a while ago because of a search for part-time jobs this summer. I am kind of determined to find one because I hate to realize that because of my fault, my mom is spending more on me than how much she needs to do so. So I was on this search and I hate why those sites which are really trustworthy and will give you the answers to your questions hide their existence on the web and those which are revealed and on the top of the search list are usually scammers who live life to fool people. That is the way the web usually works for me and I am kind of used to that way.
A site which says they will give you surveys from sites like Amazon and EBay and to answer them is what you need to do to earn bucks caught my attention. I like the idea that you will just sit back and relax and earn eventually. It was like saying you’ll lie down and sleep with your mouth open and an Italian pizza will land on your mouth for free. I wasn’t fully in trust. I know that life is so difficult and there are a lot of jobless people worldwide. If money is just that easy, there will be no problem and there will be no poverty at all but there is still. Nevertheless, I became interested and thought that it won’t cost me anything if I read further and analyze what they are after and what they offer. I let my critical mind rule the scene.

The site was good and very attractive, as a matter of fact. There were testimonies from people who became a Cinderella on their own life because of that site. I mean, those “from rags to riches” sort of things and they were smiling on their pictures. That was really convincing. As I continue reading, a line caught me and drove me into writing here: You will have a happy life after you register in here for a discounted offer of eleven dollars. I beg to disagree though I know that the site needs that kind of sweet words in order to magnetize possible “workers” or “customers”. It’s just that after reading the line, I wondered instantly how they were sure that after registering there, someone will have a happy life. It is something which is very difficult to achieve. We always have an idea about something but we were never sure about those until such time that it happens. Life is full of unexpected twists and turns. After registering there and paying the fees they are requiring you, you might find yourself in a situation where you never dreamt to be in and you cannot do anything about that. Let us say that it’s true that you’ll earn a lot of money. Let us say that you’ll be the richest man / woman in the world with just answering surveys. Let us say that what they are telling you about money are all true. Do these guarantee us a happy and satisfying life after all?

I am just seventeen, yes, and I cannot talk much about hearing the cries of your first-born or seeing your child graduate from college. I have no right to describe the feeling to be married or see your groom waiting for you in front of the altar. I have limited experience about life but this doesn’t hinder me of the truth that the best things in life are free and the best things in life aren’t actually things. Maybe money can really fly me to Paris and buy me a Porsche but what were those things if I wasn’t able to share them to the person whom I am dedicating my life to? What makes human happy, particularly me, is to make and see others happy. When I say “others”, it seldom means an arbitrary person. It points out to the person who is dearest to my heart: family, friends and special someone (cough! CHGA :D ).

If ever I will be working in summer and if ever I will engage myself in a part-time job, it will simply be to lighten my mom’s burden and help her reduce the expenses. It may also be because of boredom and just to focus my mind on other things. It will never be to give me lots of money which will make me happy, according to the advertisement.

Monday, March 30, 2009

When Did Everything Change?

I went home from the dirty street where I’ve just finished running away from my playmates. They were just too slow for me. I was sure then that my mom will be mad at me for the soiled and disgusting shirt I wore. She’ll complain about washing it and how expensive the soap is. She reminded me just before I went outside to keep myself tidy even if I am playing outside and be home before four in the afternoon, clean, neat and smelling pleasantly. It was already five-thirty and I was tiptoeing my way to my room. I don’t know where my mom is and it’s nice that she was unaware of what I did. I fell into a deep sleep with my dirty feet and sweaty neck. Nobody was certain about tomorrow.

The alarm clock hysterically woke up everyone else in the house including my mom. It was just too loud that everyone became consciously aware that it was already morning. I stood up and combed my hair in front of the mirror. I can hardly open my eyes because I am still sleepy and when I finally did, gosh! A seventeen year old lady is standing in front of me. Where she did come from and who she is, I don’t know. I closed my eyes again, counted one to ten, in disbelief on what happened and I was just in seven when I heard my mom’s voice scolding me for going home at two and ignoring my exams. I can’t remember exactly what event she was pertaining to. I know I exceeded my curfew but where did she get the “2 am” thing? I know I played yesterday but where did she get the “party” thing? Everything is seemingly confusing.

Wait, wait, wait. I still cannot figure out when everything changed. The playmates I had yesterday are busy with their boyfriends and husband for some. We are now attending school and playing computer games instead of dolls. We seldom run now and wear our shoes or slippers whenever we do. My mom has different concerns for me now. It’s not the untidiness of my dress but its length and its style. I cannot point out where that transition point is but I know that nothing remained constant except my name and later on, it will change, too. I cannot point the exact time that everything started changing. Maybe it was chronic, like a disease, like a deadly disease. It was just the horror to sleep with your immaturity and wake up to find out that you grew a lot overnight, that you changed a lot since your last picture taken. If life is just this fast, I can find myself in death bed in my next waking up. Oh, the horror to find myself gray and wrinkled after a good night sleep!

When someone asks you about yourself or you have to fill-up a form concerning this description, maybe it’s best to answer like Alice in Wonderland and say, “I don’t know. I changed a lot since this morning”. Maybe it’s best to remain safe rather than be inconsistent on how you perceive yourself and how others perceive you as a person. You might write something about the self you used to be and be nostalgic after sometime because of the realization that you were in fact, better yesterday and that you cannot go back to that person you used to be.

I’ve been keeping in mind the quote which runs thus: The only constant thing in this world is change but dealt with it just now. Maybe I am seeing myself in this quote and analyzing lately how my life has been, I’ve been growing more concerned about changes and similar stuffs. I don’t know why.

Sunday, March 29, 2009


The dictionary provides a meaning for the word magic and it runs thus: the art of making things happen by secret charms and sayings. The thesaurus says that it is synonymous to the words the supernatural, the unexplained, enchantment and wonderful.

As a child, I always believed that magic is when a coin disappears when someone breathes in it while it is kept in a closed fist. I even thought that magic differs from a person to another. For instance, he has the power to make things disappear and get it from the lobe of your ear and another has the power to guess the card you chose. It differs just like our fingerprints and someday, I’ll discover my unique magic. As a child, I always find myself amused to children’s party with hotdogs and marshmallows on sticks and with clowns who perform magic in the middle part of the celebration. I think everyone else has been fascinated at how they keep everything secret and they won’t reveal it no matter how hard you pull their pants. While I was busy admiring magic and the thing I thought as skill, an older playmate told me that it was just an illusion, that I was just being fooled. I cannot accept that reality at that time and so I did not play with her anymore after that and refused to lend her my imported Barbie dolls.

After that, I was able to watch a movie entitled “Breaking the Magician’s Code”. The movie has three volumes, each equipped with professional magic and magicians, the one with floating woman, teleporting magician, disappearing elephant and other breath-taking presentations. Those involved risking life by drowning or saw or bombs. After each amazing show, the masked magician will show the viewers how the trick was done. My father who was watching with me got more amazed after knowing the secrets but I was not. I felt like I was really fooled and the fact that magic doesn’t exist even though they first told me that it does is something a child won’t accept easily. At that point, I called magicians as bluffers and magic as lies. As I grow up, the thought about magic makes me vomit. It’s just that it’s not anymore fascinating because there is no point in believing it since you know that there is a trick behind it and it’s just a matter of their hand speed and your blinking.

Now that I am almost eighteen, magic still lingers in me though it is not in its original form. My concept of magic lately is the crazy little thing they call as love. It is unexplained and wonderful, something enchanted and amazing and unlike the magic known by many, love is not a bluff and people who encounter this doesn’t make you fall on a trick or into illusions. Love is every little conversation you share with him while his eyes sparkle and the touch of his hand teleports you into somewhere else where everything is right and bright. Love is this bittersweet longing while kilometers separate you and the fear because there is just only one of him in the world. Love is reading his messages all over again, untiringly, and still getting that very electrifying feeling. Magic is when you don’t know why you are so addicted and attached to the person but you find myriads of reason to answer when they ask you. Magic is the art of making impossible things happen and making dreams come true. It is visualizing the two of you at seventy-five and finding yourself crying because of intense satisfaction which you are having. It is listening to every song and realizing that those good ones all apply to him and only to him. Magic and love are inseparable because when you love someone, instantly, magic envelops the two of you and when you feel a real magic, it’ love and it can only be love.

Saturday, March 28, 2009

Summer Fun

I have too many plans for the summer and I have a feeling that if I did not organize it, I’ll end up not accomplishing anything from those plans. I’ll be having my summer classes from seven until ten in the morning and I am going to do that for roughly two months yet I should not let that summer class hinder me from enjoying the heat of summer sunshine. After all, summer is too fun for me to just let it pass.

1. Read four novels. I have a lot of e-books which I wasn’t able to read because of a very busy schedule. Four the summer season, I’ll read four no matter what and that will count in my goal of reading 18 for this year.

2. Finish my novel. I am making a novel and hush because it is supposed to be a secret. I won’t let out any details about it. The descriptions will be heard as soon as I am done with it. I am doing it once in my life or maybe two if the circumstances call. I did not write it for fame or money. I am writing it because there exists such a great story really worthy to be written. Actually, it is in Filipino because many says that I write better in my native language. This summer season, I am aiming to finish it because as soon as the first semester of the school year 2009-2010 strikes in, I’ll focus on other things again. I don’t want it unfinished.

3. Get a minimum of six hours sleep a day. A part of me is health-conscious which I think, I should be. Since the school year has started, I sleep at 12 and wake up at 5. Five hours of sleep is too short for me to renew all of my energy and regain the enthusiasm that Math has stolen from me. This summer, though I’ll still deal with Math, I’ll pamper myself by getting a minimum of six hours sleep a day. Hmmm… sounds relaxing!

4. Pass Math. I think it’s enough that I failed Math 63 once. It’s enough for me to learn my lessons and correct them. Now that I am dealing with it the second time around (and hey! A part of me is still stunned about the fact that I failed. Sigh), I’ll remember everything and love it with all my heart. I mean, I’ll deal with it while I am in school and I’ll study my lessons at home, too. I’ll solve for difficult exercises and not be contented that I get the concept alone. I’ll deal with the difficulty and not let a day pass that I don’t know or I am still doubtful about the lesson. I’ll strive to not just pass it but aim for higher grades.

5. Lastly, I’ll write everyday and when I say write everyday, it may not be in this blog. It may be a post or a letter or a simple realization in my diary. I believe that writing can be very therapeutic- it will clean the inside of me and will help me cope up with stress and anxiety. At the same time, writing makes me feel that I always have someone to listen to me although I may post and people may not read. I’ll give this blog more attention this summer season.

This is my initial list of things to accomplish this summer. Initial because I feel like adding things to do as soon as I feel that these are just very easy to achieve. Right now, these are just my plans maybe because I don’t want to plan something which I am not sure that I will achieve. I don’t want to say things and promise myself but I won’t accomplish.

Have a happy summer, bloggers!

Friday, March 27, 2009

The "Me" and The "Was Me"

It’s been a year since I graduated from high school. Honestly, I can still remember some lines on my speech. I can still smell the perfume sprayed on me just before the event started and how my hair was brushed. I can still remember those silly reasons why I laughed and cried when I was with my high school friends. Until now, a part of me is still attached to the “Jha” called by many. I can still feel that in me.

As soon as I realized then that I am stepping into a lot higher level which happens to be college, I became excited. I sensed independence that I did not fully achieve while I was still in high school. Having the privilege of studying in UP is something momentous and comes only once. I cannot afford to lose that opportunity and so I grabbed and embraced it. Unfortunately, of all the batch mates I have, I was the only one who enrolled in the mentioned university. That means two things: first, I won’t have initial friends in there and I have to make one or two if I want to survive and fight loneliness. Second, I am part of the minority. More than half of us chose to stay in Malolos where the air is fresh and home is just a jeepney away. They are actually the majority I am talking about. Five of my closest friends are studying in UST which is about an hour travel from UP and three are in the nearby schools of UST. That means, they see each other regularly.

Months have passed and I know that it was not me who was overwhelmed with college. It is not our life. It is not what we’re used to. Being happy-go-lucky is what my life dictated me to be. It is not the reality we were taught about but this is what’s going on right now and we cannot go back and stay fourth year forever. We have to grow and adjust to the situation. Saying that, I also mean, change ourselves for the better. It includes being more mature and knowing our priorities. If not for the betterment of friendship developed, just betterment of oneself. I think, a part of stepping into college includes developing new friends apart from those whom you are already closed with and being close to them too. My difference with the others is that I adjusted by myself and through the help of other adjusting freshman in my university while my high school classmates adjusted by themselves and through the help of each other. Instantly, friendships were nurtured and developed. There are no regrets in my part that I wasn’t able to be a part of the majority who were able to still be with each other although graduation put an end to being classmates and schoolmates with each other. After all, I am so much happy and contented with my life and I cannot imagine my life being even greater than this. I made the right choices and if ever I lost some friendships, it’s better than losing a life.

So why am I talking about this today? I just feel like reminiscing my life a year after I entered a big transition that changed me as a person. I feel nostalgic, yes, and I don’t know how to say, “Though I was really away, I am still the person you once laughed and cried with”. I don’t know how to reach out and convince people that I changed because I need to. I did not turn my back from the friendship and as far as my schedule allows me, I go to reunions and get-togethers in order to catch up from them and hear their exciting stories. As far as I know, I changed but never forget and if people need me, I am still the person who will help them as long as I can. Pictures faded and academics swallowed all of us but there is still the part in me that says I am still too young to enjoy a part of my life with them, still too young to do the things we laugh upon remembering. I still got the insane part of me and hell, it will never go away.

I am still me, believe it or not.

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

To Drop or Not to Drop

The semester is almost done and I am so much happy that I am still here, alive, breathing and writing. Last semester, I wrote about My Passport to Math 63 and this occurred to me: maybe I won’t be writing a similar post this time. After analyzing myself and what I did, I am certain that I will be failing my Math subject for this semester. I am not proud of it but hiding it and being ashamed of myself will simply worsen the situation. Actually, I already realized that I’ll fail the pre-requisite subject even before the deadline for dropping. Some of my friends asked my why I did not drop the subject though I sensed it coming. Yes, it is a very simple question. An ordinary one, that is. Maybe they are just inquisitive about my reasons but since I just finished a philosopher’s paper about believing, allow me to interleave some exaggeration here and deal with the issue philosophically.

I had a forced option, something which is highly unavoidable: to drop Math 63 or not to drop. To drop it means that I will repeat the subject. To not drop it means that I am to repeat it if I wasn’t able to make a passing grade. Either way, I’ll repeat it but the difference is the grade I’ll have. To drop it means that I’ll have a “DRP” in my transcript. It won’t be included in my general weighted average and won’t pull my grades down. To not drop it means that I’ll be having a “5” as my grade and that is the lowest. It’ll pull all of my grades and it will cause me to have a lower average.

I did not drop the subject for some reasons. First, I did not find any sensible reason for me to drop it. I paid for that subject and to not include it to the subjects I enlisted, took and re-took is being a coward of failing. I know. Nobody wants it and you are getting me wrong if you are thinking that it doesn’t affect me. Actually, it does. Actually, it did. It even caused me sleepless nights for some time. Second, for me, it is not right to drop a subject just because I saw that I am failing. I failed because I took it for granted. I failed it because it already reached my limitations and maybe, my professor was right when he said that Math 63 is sweeter the second time around, like love. I’ll know soon and I’ll tell you. I learned my lessons. Too bad that I learned it too late but enough for the bitterness. This is supposed to be an explanation of why I did not drop the subject.

A month ago, just when students are still thinking and deciding whether they will drop their subjects or not, I found myself on an edge of a cliff where the air is too arctic that staying standing there will make me frozen. To drop the subject is putting all the risks behind me. It’s like staying just there, on the edge and waiting for my poor body to be swallowed wholly by the ice. Yes, I did not jump and try out things. I avoided the failing thing, not to mention that I also avoided the suspense of trying out everything. It’s a momentous kind of choice and I want it to stay momentous rather than trivial. It’s waiting for death to creep on me slowly. Not dropping the subject and going on with it is putting all the risks in front of me. It’s like jumping on that highly elevated land. To jump can mean two things: either I’ll break my bones and I’ll die or I’ll be taught how to fly. I chose to jump and face all the jeopardy. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the perfect timing for me to be taught how to fly and I think that it is a lot better than just standing there and filling myself with senseless what-if’s and could-have-been’s. At least, I won’t be saying the line, “If I was courageous enough….” I’ve always tried things and if I failed, I can always try again and fail better. If I meet the end, I am sure that there is no better end than that. I did and tried everything. Is there any better experience than that?

...And on my last day

So the third day comes. I am sure that when I am in this day, I’ll remember the book Tuesdays With Morrie and I’ll be appreciating the book more. I’ll call the person I love the most and ask him to spend the day with me. I’ll say that it’s a must and I won’t take a “no” as an answer. I’ll treat him to movies, the kind which is full of action and suspense and try my best not to feel sleepy towards it. I’ll tell him that I love him and mean it. As our stomach grumbles, maybe I’ll show up the food I cooked for him and eventually eat together. I’ll thank God for a wonderful opportunity and tell Him that I really love the person I am spending lunch with and may He continue blessing him.

Afterwards, I’ll ask him to skate with me and together, we’ll laugh at slipping over and hurting our legs. Together, we’ll feel the frostiness of ice but feel the warmth of each others company at the same time. I’ll tell him that I love him and mean it. I’ll tell him how happy I am to be in that kind of situation and how satisfied I am already even if the day isn’t over yet. I’ll ask him to join me in my playing in an arcade shop where I will be winning a big bear and I am going to give it to him and tell him that it will be his bodyguard whenever I am away. I’ll tell him how lucky I am feeling just because I have him in my life and I am so blessed that he is spending time with me. I’ll hold his hand and pull him over to a photo shop where we will be having wacky pictures and laughing at our ugly faces. Maybe when he is already laughing so hard, I’ll remind him that no matter how he looks like, he is still the most handsome man I know and that it will always be that way. He is the only person whom my eye is very pleased to see and I will always cherish the wonderful moments he had given me.

I’ll ask him to join me in a park where the stars and the moon are shining overhead. Preferably, there is this lake beside us where fishes go swimming and jumping. I’ll tell him that out of all the fish in the sea, he is the one for me. and as I lie peacefully in his chest, feeling his every inhalation and exhalation, I’ll try to tell him the reasons why I love him. I’ll probably begin by saying that it is because of his muscular biceps and broad shoulders. I’ll follow it by saying that it is because of the way he says my name and the way his eyes twinkle and shines brighter than anything else. I’ll be more serious as I say that it is because he makes me weak and strong at the same time and that he makes me happy and scared also at the same time. Maybe I’ll show him some tears of joy which automatically shows up whenever I stop and think why I love him so much. I’ll tell him that I love him and mean itMaybe I’ll soon run out of reasons because the truth is I just love him because I truthfully do. Due to listening to my endless enumerations, maybe he’ll fall asleep and that’s okay. I’ll stare at the face of the person who made my life worth living for. I’ll stare at the face of the person who made me happiest at my last breath. I’ll end the day by telling him how much I do love him. I also know that words will slip away if I do this but I’ll try. I’ll tell him that I love him more than words can ever say and more than my actions can show. I love him more than the fish in the sea and the leaves of a tree. I’ll whisper that I love him more than how our professor describes positive infinity and more than Chemistry can count atoms in the universe. I’ll tell him that I love him more than I love writing and more than I love my blog and cute purple bag. I’ll tell him that I love him more than I do with my dark green braces, with dancing Beyonce’s Single Ladies and more than I love my dear diary. I’ll tell him that I love him more than he’ll ever know and mean it. I’ll tell him I love him more than the stars up above us and that I will do until my very last breath…

Knock on Wood

Knock on wood. If a doctor will tell me that I only got three days left in my life, what shall I do? An eerie question, that is, but it made me think about what I will do and what are the important things which matters most in my life.

After knowing that I only got three days, maybe I’ll spend the first day staying on my room and crying hard over the sad news. It’s not what I really want to do but being a person with soft heart, I think that no matter how I try to enjoy the first day, I’ll still end up lonely and unconvinced. People always have this denial stage and I want to experience that, too. I am spending the first day by accepting the situation I am in and convincing myself that 48 hours is long enough for me to squeeze decades in there. I know that it’s going to be really hard but maybe, I’ll end up realizing that life is a sweet torture and what matters most is that I was able to live it to the fullest and if ever I have regrets, I still have some time to correct those. I’ll make sure that drama will just be present on the first day and I won’t cry or emote for the same reason again. I’ll forgive myself and reminisce about the happy moments so that I will have enough reasons to say that my life has been very meaningful.

As soon as the clock ticks twelve and the second day transitions itself in, I’ll get a pad of paper and a pen and I’ll write letters to those who touched my life. I’ll begin by saying thank you to my mom because she is such a joy to me. Her role to my life is incomparable and I’ll say sorry too for all the disappointments I caused her. There were times when my mom and I had some arguments and I am proud to say that it just happens occasionally. We get along very well as if I got a friend and a mother at the same time. The second letter I’ll write is for my sister. I think it will be composed of gratitude too for she made me very happy and smiling all of the times. I will tell her that I am very happy that she is my sister and that I am so proud of her and her achievements. My letter to her will also be filled with advices and reminders about life. My third letter will be to my father. I will probably begin by saying that if ever I became mad at him, I encountered forgiveness just before I leave. I think it’s very vital for his peace of mind. I’ll probably beg him to come home and tell him about all those hatred and hard feelings I felt after I realized that I lost a father. I don’t want my sister to feel that too and so I’ll tell him my predictions of what’s going to happen if ever the situation becomes worse. My fourth letter is for the one I love and though he really changed my life and made it a better one and though I have a lot of wrongdoings which affected him, maybe I won’t write a long letter because I know that while he is reading it, he might shower into tears and I don’t want that to happen. Maybe I’ll just write a simple letter, something written into a pink-colored stationery and mainly composed of reminders to be happy all the time and take care of himself. Maybe those letters will eat the first four hours of my life and just before the sun shines, I’ll dress up and get ready for a big day. I’ll jog first and feel my breathing body burning with heat. I’ll return home and cook bacon, egg and fried rice for my mom. I’ll make some hot chocolate and drop tiny marshmallows in there, put everything in a tray and say, “Good morning!” as I enter her room and serve her breakfast in bed. Maybe it’s time for me to do the things she untiringly do for me and the thought that I made her surprised and happy is more than enough for me to cry tears of joy silently as I closed her door and proceed to the shower to take a bath. Afterwards, I’ll sit on our balcony with the flowers and plants that my mom used to sing at every morning. I’ll bring my laptop and write about how my life has been and of course, publish it on my blog where people can see and can judge. It’s just sad that I will no longer hear their constructive criticisms. Maybe I’ll finish at twelve, just perfect for lunch time. I can actually imagine myself eating fish with dirty hands and vinegar on my left. I’ll savor the moment and use my every taste bud to appreciate the food my mom prepared for us. Afterwards, I’ll thank her again and kiss her on her cheek. I’ll go to the schools I once enrolled in and see the teachers who have a very large part on molding me to the person I am now. I’ll talk to them and tell them how important they are and ask them to mold other kids too. I’ll remind them about their special part on making this world a better place. I’ll go to the houses of the people I believe I hurt the most and tell them that I am sorry and mean it. I’ll explain to them and won’t leave until such time that forgiveness is already present and that they don’t have any hard feelings for me. This will make me achieve a very peaceful mind. After doing these things, I think, it is already six o’clock. Maybe I’ll check my e-mail and answer all those concerned messages that went unanswered once. I’ll read my blog and all those entries in there and laugh at the things I became exaggerated at. I’ll reminisce how my life has been and as soon as my mom calls me for dinner, I’ll eat with them and be very thankful for a very supportive family. I’ll share stories about what happened to me during the day and little by little, talk about how I was when I was still in kindergarten. After washing the dishes, I’ll clean myself up and wear my pajamas. I’ll go to my mom’s room with my big teddy bear and ask her to comb my long hair until it doesn’t look like a tangled phone wire. As our conversation digs deeper, I’ll ask her to read me bed time stories, the kind which never failed to make me interested. I know that she will feel unusual with it but I’ll just say that I want to feel being a child again when playing outside was always enough. I’ll sleep a deep one and wake up anytime I want.

Sunday, March 22, 2009


Straight from the bed, I sat in front of the computer trying to tell my readers how unprepared I am for the week and how irresponsible I am to choose to write instead of solve. Today marks a hell week for every student in my university. Everyday, until Friday, I’ll allow my brain to be squeezed up through numerous examinations in different subjects. I know that it’s not going to be easy. It’s going to be really hard and I have honest imaginations that I won’t be here to write next week for reasons like too much frustrations or stress. I hope that I am wrong. What I want is just celebrate the weekends: go to the mall and window shop there, go to fancy restaurants and eat until I double my size, go to the salon and have my nails painted, go home and listen to some of my audio books concerning self-esteem and relaxation, allowing myself to be detached from my chaotic world. Now that the sem’s almost done I am feeling the same feeling I had last October only that it’s a lot heavier this time around.

There is a sense of peace in just staying at home where breakfast is served as soon as my mom hears me breathe differently. It’s more than the laziness that I don’t want to go to my classes. This is something concerned with my self-image and how I respect myself because I know that I have goals and I am committed to my goals. I don’t want to realize that I am not the kind of person I worked myself to be. For me, to go to school will simply give me the frustrations. I know that I haven’t done my best and it is too late to do so and I am scared that I might have regrets later on. I see going to school as something like going to a battle unarmored. (Sigh) how I wish these are all over.

My alter ego is telling me to stop writing now because I am too sad and whenever I am sad, I make sad posts, too. That’s normal and that’s trivial, something all bloggers do consciously or unconsciously but I just need to know if ever people had similar experiences like mine or it was just me because commonly, they have similar experiences and I will figure out that it’s okay to feel this way and this is part of adolescence. I don’t know if ever somebody else ever felt like that… that last night, I listened to some hypnosis because I wanted to sleep for a thousand years and wake up during the time that no one actually knows me and I have to start all over again or just not exist even though I already do, those sort of things. I think wanting to be like that is very melancholic and morbid but I choose it rather than this feeling. I want it whenever I feel like this. This is the reason why I just want to sleep and focus my attention to other lighter things. I am trying my best not to think about Math and about other exams. The thought disturbs my being. I want everything to stop spinning but that’s impossible. Maybe something is really wrong with me but I don’t know what that is and I cannot point out where.

I have roughly four hours before the true inner disturbance begin. Four hours is too short to stop everything and make some last-minute changes and too long because I know that it will continuously bug me. I have a couple of ideas how things will run for me and I am too scared to admit that those are actually possible. It’s very painful to admit that for all these years, I am failing in my life and I am not happy with it. I hate how uncertainties block my vision of seeing great things. I hate how uncertainties cause me to lose some of my sanity and cause me to be a different person. I hate how I become very positive some times but extremely negative at times like this. I feel like I’ve fallen and I just can’t get up.

What If A Different Topic

Last Thursday, our Communication 3 class had an impromptu speech. We picked a topic from our professor’s envelope and tell everything about that topic in the spur of the moment. What I chose was “Tell something about your favorite television entertainment talk show” and I was like, “How lucky I am to choose this one. The truth is, I haven’t watched seriously any of these on my seventeen years of existence." Because I have frustrations regarding that speech, I imagined what shall happen if I picked my other classmates’ topic. I am not envious. I am happy and contented with my life. But I think that it could have been better. Okay. Okay. This is just a what if. There are no regrets, just lessons learned (wink).

“What is your stand regarding love is blind?” Love is blind? I don’t think so. If love is really blind, people will not see anything in relation to the one they love but since they do, love is not blind. For me, it simply doesn’t care. I mean, a person knows that the one they love is not that good-looking and doesn’t have a great body but they don’t care about that because what they are after is their magical feelings and the attitude of the one they love. For me, love is so powerful that it looks beyond the imperfections of someone. It is so sincere and true that it doesn’t focus only on the bad side. Instead, it looks on the strength of a person and makes it even stronger. A person pays more attention to the helpfulness of their love one rather than her damaged hair. A person sees her/his partner’s good heart rather than her dirty nails. It’s not blind. It is simply not a perfectionist. It is very considerate.

The next topic I found very interesting is, “What was the best thing that your parents taught you?” My father and mother are separated and to answer this question will surely give me the tears. It will make me realize those things that I haven't fully accepted. Nevertheless, I want to answer still because who knows, a person with the similar problem may hop into this post and might find a comfort and refuge in the honesty of my writing. I might be able to help him/her. The best thing I learned from my parents is that amidst the diversity, remain strong and stable. I cannot say that through these years, I’ve been very strong. That will be a lie because I cry inside of me. I just don’t show it to my mom because she sees me as a pillar of her strength and to cry in front of her will make her cry, too, and might cause her to blame herself. I cannot say also that I have been very stable with my feelings. There came a time when anger dominated my heart and all I am thinking about is how to revenge and show my father that karma is real but after watching my life failing and seeing that I am not happy to see my father suffering, I realized that I can’t let my emotions eat me. I cannot let my emotions change the likable person I used to be. I am still so young and I have a great future ahead only if I will be willing to move on with my life with happiness and forgiveness and not make vengeance as my goal. I won’t achieve anything if I’ll continue that and I’ll just be miserable with my life if that’s the case. I realized that they are my parents and whether I like it or not, it will be forever, like a scar, like a curse, like a tattoo. I cannot do anything with that and I should take in consideration the fact that they are the reason why I am here now. They were the ones who made me breathe and made me luckier than the other people who surround me. I just need to hug the situation I am currently in and make appropriate actions to contradict every bad happening. I learned indirectly that though I may have a broken family, I should not break my life and prove all and sundry that not all children of broken family are rebellious and that I can make my life a very meaningful one even with these kinds of situations. It is still up to me.

Friday, March 20, 2009

Confessions of a Drama Queen

A wicked skin and closed mind, I sat by the window and watch happy people with no worries and insecurities at all. I feel cold and shivering but perspiration lines in the arch of my back. I weep silver tears with a shot of broken heart that is chased with fear. Swelling eyes, ruined hair and red nose, an ugly little face filled with bitterness on life. This is my verve and sometimes I get happy, sometimes I get mad but most of the times, I get sad and until now, I am still trying to figure out how that could be. I don’t get the answer usually and I put myself to an endless sleep. For in sleeping, dreams seem to be happier than how things are. For in sleeping, I am in a situation I prefer and there are no heartaches allowed to enter. There is this powerful boundary that separates dreaming and living. Dreaming is living with a happy ending and with no tragedies and agonies. Everything is right. Everything is right under control.

There are still things which I am not quite sure if they are real. What matters most is that I instantly give in to my feelings, surrendering my emotions, planting bombs inside my heart and counting seconds off. I sob with the music and I cry with the wind. I listen to the water flowing and emote there instead. I tolerate self-pity and allow jealousy. This is my life and this is what I am good at. I watch comedy shows and after laughing so hard, I cry for reasons like I just feel like doing so. I listen to jokes and laugh my heart out upon hearing those but behind those boisterous laughter is a pain that continuously tears my being. Senseless. Pointless. I know.

They call me Little Miss Drama Queen and my features are too overwhelming for an ordinary mind to comprehend. No one understands me. Well, I don’t understand myself, too. Silence is my friend and crying has been my hobby. I lie back at night with the full moon overhead and stars nearly approaching my eyes causing me to create a lake of tears in my pillow. After waking up, things are different and drama stays on my room, left there, alone. My eyes are all dried and lips craving for water that dehydrated me throughout the night. Nobody knows I am miserable with my life maybe because of the laughter I give them or because of the sarcastic smile that they see and therefore tells them I am okay. Never did they see the pain in my eyes and that’s okay. I can deal with that by myself.

…and yes, I now confess that I am both happy and sad and perhaps, that sounds impossible but that is really the case. That kind of condition exists. I know that I am making pointless dramas but that is how I live and that is how my life has been. I don’t regret any of those for in my emotions, I found who I truly am. My life has been meaningful because of the inane dramas I created and because of the people I bothered because of these sentiments. Fears are my food and worries are what make me interesting. I tell people that life is too short to be anything but happy and I tell myself that life is too short to not experience all these senseless emotions.

Writing. Crying. Making big deals out of really small things. Sleeping. Waking up and smiling. That is how my life runs. Listening to music. Watching the television. Playing solitaire. Reading messages. Thinking about what’s happening and dealing with what I truly feel towards it. Damn! Everything is swallowing me. When I was young, they didn’t tell me that life can be this complicated. Let my alter ego do the job of making things right and light.

Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Just Another Random Post

It's already the later half of March and I haven't reach even a half of my target posts per month which is twenty. I don't want to change my goal. I already set it up and to change that only means that I cannot fulfill things which I laid in front of me to accomplish. It means that I can dream big but achieve only a little. You may say that it's just a post and it's just a blog and hey, I am once again exaggerating things. When did I did not? I can come back anytime soon after I am done with those obligations I have in school, in our home and with myself. I know that there is so much about life that deals beyond writing and thoughts but I'll answer you that there is also more than those posts. I told and promised myself that I will write a minimum of twenty posts per month. That was a vow though there are no contracts and such things. Excuses like laziness, busy about stuffs and lack of thoughts are all sharing that space between the section of invalid. I know that of I reason out those things, I am just wasting my ample energy. When I say I will do something, it actually means that I will do everything to accomplish that and if ever I did not, I'll lose trust on myself. That means something serious. If I won't trust myself, who is going to trust me then?

“How's life?” the very question that people ask me and I ask usually. I remember myself asking others that similar question but I did not just ask in order to break the silence or any of the like. I asked because I want to know the answer. I am curious whether the one I ask is happy or not, whether he/she has a problem on which I can help or whether or not there is an event which shall took place in the near future. Friends which I don't have a regular connection with bump me in the road and ask me this and usually I answer seriously, like you can quote some lines and send it to the local news paper or use it in your drama play. I know that they may not care about my answer. I know that they may not mind this and they just want to say something not as random as “What is the name of your pet?” or “What is your favorite ice cream flavor?” but I still see this question as a key to soul-search yourself (again). “How's life?” can mean “Were you busy lately?” or “How are you feeling now?”. It can say, “What happened yesterday and last week?” and “Is there anything bothering you right now?”. Most of the times, when asked, I say, “I am okay,” if I really am followed by, “School is tough and I am busy like hell,” in order to tell him/her what I am busy at and though I may be busy, still, I am satisfied with my life and everything is right and under control. Other times, I say, “I am okay” then I'll show a face which shouts, “I have a problem but because I am naturally sarcastic, I am telling you that I am okay. Wait! If you are going to ask me again, I am going to change my answer. Therefore, ask me again” and people seem to read my mind because they will ask if I am sure and that can lead into a long conversation. Sometimes, I get lonely for the people who had been really close to my heart on the past are asking me the question but they don't care about the answers. They just ask me because they have nothing else to ask. They just ask me because nothing seems to be wrong in asking that. It's safe and it's surely effective to make the other person respond. That is the perfect question to ask to your friend who was gone for some Jurassic years and you'll squeeze her/him out if you keep on being curious.

“How's life?” Well, I don't know how life has been for me lately. I have an idea and I almost know how was it but I still don't get it fully. There are gaps of misunderstandings and gaps brought by secrets which are meant to destruct oneself. There are certain things that my comprehension just cannot sink into and the situation I have is one of those. Perhaps, some things are really not for analyzing. It's just there, never minding you so never mind it, too. I want to believe that it's just being busy and occupied and there are no negative emotions involve. It sounds tough and somehow, I feel like I am failing in all aspects of my life for the first time. I try not to be depressed. I try to cheer up and convince myself that everything will still end up alright and though it sounds impossible, I can still fool myself about this. At some point, I can say that I am still okay. I won't write here and be back for some time if I am not, and thank goodness I still have a little of sanity... yet gazillions of perplexities. I worry about too many things. Actually, I worry about everything.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

Farewell to a New Hero

It was last Friday when the news about Francis Magalona broke. I was at school and text messages about his death spread like cheese on a hungry bread. I did not want to believe it unless I was able to confirm it myself. The news was too sad that thinking that it was possible made me kind of affected and bothered. I just find it depressing to think that the Master Rapper of the Philippines is now with our Creator.

I am not Francis' avid fan. I am not related to him at any case. Yes, I listen to his songs and watch him on television but I don't go running after him whenever I will meet him on malls. He is a celebrity but his photos are not on my room. Though I don't idolizes him that much, I still believe that Kiko is a modern day hero. He is, in any sort, an icon that will forever linger on memories of Filipinos. He is a rapper but not that kind with false notes and failed lyrics. He made sensible songs which mainly focus on nationalism and patriotism. He was not intimidated by the rising stars who talks and sings in a foreign language. He was very unlike those prevailing people who raps out of tune and those lyrics which are about violence and hatred. Francis was able to use his talents well in order be the best person that he can be.

So why I am talking about this? I have nothing to do with his death. After seven months of fighting his ailment, he finally surrendered. Leukemia, that is. That acute disease was the one which stole all his youthfulness and excitement about life. The disease left him weak and made him quit show business. I just cannot believe what happened. When I first heard about his situation, months ago, I was shocked but after watching some of his interviews and seeing that he is still the rapper who is full of energy, I thought that he was okay or if not okay, he was getting better. He was just 44 and that forty-four years of his existence made a big difference. I have read a couple of blog posts made by other Filipinos about him: his death, his contribution and his life, and truly, we won't write about him here if we are not touched of how his life went. If I was not inspired at all, I must be blogging about ice cream or chaos or frustrations today. He is really amazing! I get goosebumps each time I try to visit his account. It gives me the idea that it is what's left of him and yes, his ideas will be immortal now. Somehow, I was thinking that that is what's going to happen with this blog, too. It scares me, honestly. I don't want to think about death yet. I don't want to deal with those things when all the while I was dreaming as if I am going to live forever. It gives me the goosebumps too whenever I am relaxing with my player on my side and I will hear his songs. I can imagine him singing then lying on the coffin.

I admire his wife. Pia is her name and she swallowed all the optimism in the world. I admire her because she knows how to handle difficult situation and knows how to serve as a pillar of strength to the rest of the family. I can see that though the lost is paining her, she is trying to smile because her husband was happy when he died. She was happy, too, because she felt that Francis was able to do all he needs and wants to do. His life was a fully-satisfied one although it was short.

In the entertainment arena of Philippine television, I seldom see males crying. Yes, they may cry on shows and soap operas but they seldom, almost never, cried genuinely in front of a camera. They are protecting their images, perhaps, but as the news broke and tributes for Francis was being conducted here and there, they were all showering into tears. They said that it was because of the industry's lost but the greater pain lies on losing their idol, their mentor and their friend. There is something with Francis that he was able to touch lives even if some people were not given the chance to be close with him. He was a kind person and I can say that because it shows on the number of crying and depressed people on his wake. I cannot think of a flaw which is related to him. He is a kind father, a husband which fidelity and love belongs to Pia alone and a son with so much proud parents. If all the people will have a Francis M. in them, maybe we will be living in a better place with better neighbors.

So long, Mr. Francis Magalona,you did a great job living here!

Saturday, March 07, 2009

True Filipina Beauty

Last night, the search for Binibining Pilipinas occurred. It is a beauty pageant for Filipinas and the winner in the prestigious contest will be competing in the Miss Universe pageant. I was amazed. The contestants for this year are all pretty and seem to be worthy for the title. Just a little secret: I am a frustrated beauty queen. When I was young, about three or four, my mom tells me to be careful on playing outside. I shouldn’t have any imperfection in my body. Scars are not for a grooming Ms. Philippines. She told me that one day, I’ll be competing in the same pageant and I shall win the crown. Too bad! I didn’t grow up. I just grew old.

Last night, I was listening to the answers of the contenders. To answer wittily is a big point to win the title. They are smart, thinking that they are feeling nervous while they were answering those questions. I cannot think of good answers whenever tension eats me. Being frustrated as ever, I made my own answers on some of the judges’ questions and imagined myself standing there, trying to smile despite of the anxiety and trying to answer truthfully. This is how my imagination went:

“If you will have a son one day, what will you tell him about women?”
Good evening! Thank you for asking that beautiful question (Well, that’s vital, right? Admit it or not, it makes the people and judges impressed). If ever I will have a son one day, I will tell him that women are more sensitive than men and so he has to make more effort in taking care of their fragile feelings. He should listen to her no matter what the case is for in those ways, he will be a respectable man.

“What is your dream wedding like?”
My dream wedding is something solemn and peaceful and something that will make the world jealous. It doesn’t need to be that exaggerated. As long as the people close to me and my Mr. Right’s heart is there, it will be enough. My dream wedding will something that will manifest genuine happy people. Something with smiling audience as I trudge my way to the man I love the most.

“What is your definition of fun?”
Fun for me is something that will bring out the loudest laugh in you, something that will be forever indispensable in your memory and something that made you eliminate all those painful “what-if’s”.

These are the questions I saw as interesting and made me think about my situation and insights. The one who won is the one who caught my attention right from the start of the pageant. She answered the first question I answered here and she said that she will be educating her son about respect for women. The way she answered the question makes it very convincing and struck everyone. I do believe that she deserves to represent the country for Miss Universe. She has what it takes to be one. I am very excited for her.

A Cure for Losers

I was very disappointed yesterday. I had a very good start of the day but the end quite bothered me. This is something associated with my GO AHEAD, TALK ABOUT ME POST and really, it saddened my day. It made me affected and soul-searched myself.

(But I am okay now. I am laughing and I just can’t stop. Poor people! Losers forever. I just cannot believe that this sort of immaturity still happens in college. I thought that I am dealing with these when I graduated from high school. *devil laugh*)

When you judge a person as how you see her is one thing but to discuss it with somebody else and to talk about it at her back is another. I was over the “judging thing”. In fact, I laugh upon remembering, thinking that bitterness and jealousy caused it all. People advised me that instead of having bad feelings towards her, I should pity her for jealousy is such a painful thing that is almost fatal. I experienced jealousy and so I know how it hurts. I was thinking about her and so I gave in some considerations. I tried to understand. I tried to just ignore. After all, I don’t lose anything. To know that I was stabbed in my back is below the belt. It makes me feel small, yes, but I say that they will never find themselves big when they let others appear small. There is no contentment in that. I got the point that I know myself better than they know me but to see something against you in your usual surfing of the net is something that can break my day. It pissed me more because I tried to be good though I am Little Miss Attitude. I tried to ignore what I heard about and just go on with my life, giving them more things to talk about. I like to tell that the name they are calling me is non-sense. I mean “feeling close” is a compliment to my amicability. It actually shouts about what they don’t have. I am not ashamed of being too friendly and trying my best to be close to everybody. Without it, I won’t meet my best friends and other people who made a difference in my life. Is there something wrong with that? If there is, back-stabbing is still worse.

However, I really believe that their talent in making people hate life is rusty. I can actually do better than that but I don’t think they deserve some of my effort, not even a bit of it. I don’t push myself to people who don’t like me. Hell! I have lots of friends and without those haters, my life will still be happy and will still be complete. Actually, they don’t matter and I believe that it will always be that way. To conclude that I am actually doing everything to make them my friends is a big lie. Don’t assume that much, losers.

This is not the right thing to do, yes. A properly-behaved lady should just be shutting up, dealing with other more sensible things and not doing her little reply on the blog she owns but I need to unleash this hate. I need to express what I felt after finding out everything. I need to tell the world that I was hurt after I read those slur pertaining to me. I am still a person. I might have done wrong turns in my life but I don’t think I deserve those insults I’ve read. There are people whom I've hurt a lot. There are people whom I took for granted but I never heard them talk about me like that. I never heard their unfair judgments even though they have the right to tell me those things. They never stabbed me in my back. Whenever they have hard feelings on me, they tell me right away. They confront me because they know that back-stabbing is for losers and uneducated. I need to unleash the unfairness I felt. I need to snap back and tell them that the person they are talking about actually knows about their sordid attitude. Somehow, this is a lot better than discussing the issue to someone else and assigning terms and names to her, to them.

BTW, thanks for making me famous and oh, a cure for losers doesn't exists. :D

Sunday, March 01, 2009

If I Were A Boy

If one day, I woke up and face the mirror and saw a boy, I’ll know how and why it happened. For days, I’ve been endlessly singing Beyonce’s If I Were A Boy. Addiction, eh? I prefer to call it my Last Song Syndrome. I just cannot get over such a beautiful song. It’s something that makes me want to say, “Awww” for it hit those lines the way it should be hit. It’s perfect for those women who had a bad experience on love.

First, I would like to clarify that I have nothing against boys. I don’t have hard feelings towards the other gender. I do not have the anger and sourness and I cannot relate on Beyonce’s song. I just find it great and nice, especially the lyrics though I can’t find myself in there. I must admit that once in my life, I’ve experienced losing the one I wanted because I was taken for granted like the girl in the song but then that didn’t stop me from seeing the beauty of life. I learned from what happened and now, I am still in good terms with the one who broke my heart. I think that to conclude that I am not bitter or any of the like is very important in this post. I remember reading in a magazine the line, “Boys are taught not to make a girl cry ever since they were young,” I believe that when they do, it’s for a very good reason. Their reasons may sound silly but I know that they did everything they can in order to save everything. It’s just that some things don’t turn out that well.

Going back to the song, I thought about another what if. If I were a boy, my name will be Francis or Gabriel. I just thought that those names are great. I will be a boy who looks nice and clean and wears a polo shirt, a wrist watch in his left hand and no piercing for I find them attractive. I won’t be afraid to show my feelings for that is the only way a girl can understand me and know more about me. I will be open to her and try to tell her exactly how I feel. Openness means a lot. I’ll make her feel that I trust her, telling her how I felt when this and that happened. It’s something I know she would appreciate. I’ll make her feel special by paying attention on what she’s talking about though it may sound senseless and boring. I’ll still listen because I know that in that way, she finds a refuge in my company. I’ll tell her about my childhood and those other moments I spent before she came. In that way, she’ll be aware of the great difference she made into my life. If I were a boy, I’ll never let my girl be jealous of someone less valuable than she is. I know how it hurts and I don’t want her to feel inferior about herself. I’ll set aside pride and apologize if I believe that I hurt her at some point and do my best to make up for it. I’ll make her smile all the time and when I sense that there’s something wrong or there is a problem, I’ll buy her an ice cream or crack the funniest joke I know or dance stupidly in front of her and other people in order to see her smile again. I’ll tell her that I love her and mean it all the time. I know how it cheers up a day to hear those honest words. I’ll look into her eyes and tell her how much she means to me. In that way, she’ll forever be assured of my feelings. If I were a boy, I’ll sing to her those songs she longs to hear. I’ll be holding her hand and not let go. I’ll be nothing but faithful to her and make sure that I am treating her the way a princess is supposed to be treated.

If I were a boy, I’ll be fond of board games, puzzles and basketball. I’ll be developing biceps and broaden my shoulders and deal with Philosophy subjects at the same time. I’ll write poems and drive a bike or a motorcycle. If I were a boy, I’ll know how it feels to be dumped and taken for granted too. Maybe after turning into a woman again, I’ll swear I'd be a better one.

My Week: The Rise of the Ants

I spent my SUNDAY in the blog-o-sphere where I feel like I am abandoning soon. I don’t want to do it. It’s just that I am running out of ideas and that the week is getting tighter that I cannot handle everything I am assigned to do. I did not write that much that week and I used my Sunday to make up for those posts I wasn’t able to do.

MONDAY was very idle, as it always has been. Every Monday, I find myself struggling and dealing with my laziness. I know what to do. I am aware of my responsibilities as a student but it simply drains my energy to realize that here is another week and I have to spend it some place quite far from home. It makes me want to sleep during Sunday night then just wake up on Tuesday morning, skipping everything that has something to do with Monday. Nevertheless, I spent it on our home and never caring if tomorrow’s classes are too early for me.

TUESDAY started so early for me. I slept at one in the morning and woke up at three in the morning to head to the university. That is the price I had to pay for prioritizing my laziness last Monday. It was okay. I had a good night sleep and had a very good day. I remember my Tuesday as a Cbox day because my friends and I used the Cbox in this blog to kind of communicate though we were just in a particular place. I found my simple happiness in there: no complexity and no intricacy in its structure, just being happy and that’s something genuine. I went home with a smile and back ache but it was okay. Nothing beats celebrating life.

WEDNESDAY was such a long day but a happy one. Upon remembering, I stop and say, "I love it!" There is this play we have to watch and it starts when the sun has already set. I love everything that happened. My friends concluded that the ants revenged upon seeing my love and I together. Being with him is my definition of being in heaven and spending most of my waking hour with him is really something to be thankful for. We watched a play of someone termed to as a flirt and I must say that I really learned lot from the play. My Wednesday was a taste of soda and burger. It was something that life offers and I just can’t refuse. A long walk with him is something that makes my heart swell with joy and every time it happens, the world cracks open.

THURSDAY was once again kind of long. Cards are the ultimate thing to play on when there’s nothing much left to do. It may sound so usual but in reality, it isn’t. I just cannot describe how happy I am to stay on his shoulders while minutes are passing slowly. Things just can’t get any better and with that I am certain. We walk to the terminal where vehicles are waiting and no walk will be much sweeter than that. We are both under the same starry sky, enveloping the love in the atmosphere. I went home with so much glee. Damn! How can I ever get over with such a happy week? :D