And this line from the TV sitcom just made my day:

When you’re driving the “I wanna sleep with her” truck, it has a really big blind spot.

(Glass shattering.)

 

 

I am guilty of many things –

 

 

I take certain pleasure in teasing my brother.

I secretly wish that I’d get superpowers.

I like having my dessert before the appetizer.

 

I refuse to break my promise if it would mean having to swallow my pride.

 

I do not always practice what I preach.

I am always right.

I am often wrong.

 

I am too weak.

I am too strong.

 

I like flowers.

I detest roses.

 

I can not hate the way I should.

I can not love the way I should.

 

I am guilty of many things.

 

…But so are you. Call it even?

 

So

This

is

How

It

Feels

to

B R E A T H E

Common English mistakes that Filipinos make:

Eye bugs. Um, they’re eye bags. There are no insects in your eyes, are there? (I sincerely hope not.)

Green-minded. It’s actually grin-minded. This became such a common mistake among Pinoys that it became more popular in Tagalog as “berde ang isip.”

Salvage means kill. Newsflash: no, it doesn’t. Salvage means save. When you salvage someone, you save him, you don’t murder him.

That said, I think that grammar and spelling snobs are just big fat bullies. I once encountered a group on Facebook named, “If you can’t differentiate between ‘your’ and ‘you’re’, you deserve to die.”

I swear, I almost choked on my own saliva.

Then, it hit me. I realized that getting up on my high horse was not the recourse I wanted when it came to correcting English blunders. I am not a snob. And I most certainly am not a bully.

Besides, I still feel that Filipinos speak relatively better English compared to other Asians. Call me biased – maybe I am.

 

Yeah, I know. I have a

relationship

with my phone.

Thanks to bYSI for the histrionic skirt. Sarian for the pictures. And to Stanley for the tweaking.

I would just like to say one thing before this chapter ends.

After the many, many things I can’t say, there is one thing I CAN say that will help keep me sane, one bit of truth that will make me feel better even after the many times I have been pushed aside.

Lord, thank You… for not making me look FAT*** (unlike some other unpalatable people I know).

There! I said it. I can sleep soundly now. And please allow me this one time to be totally judgmental. I deserve to gloat. If you knew the story, you would understand. Believe me.

***Disclaimer: I do not hate overweight people. I just hate a certain handful of people who happen to be.

If it was for all the right reasons, I wouldn’t be here, trying to figure out the right words for this sordid occasion.

 

But the reasons are wrong. The reasons are bad. The reasons aren’t even reasons.

 

For the record, this is why I shall turn away.

Those twins on The Social Network (played by Armie Hammer). They remind me of someone… but I don’t know whom exactly.

Have you ever felt like you know someone you don’t actually know?

Déjà-vu. The fact that Armie Hammer was drop-dead, spank-me-now gorgeous in the movie didn’t even enter my mind till halfway through the movie.

Yes, I know. I’m not too sharp when it comes to really good-looking guys. Don’t blame me; ideas are much harder to figure out than boys – and I would rather focus on the former than the latter.

Okay. Here’s the thing. We have a decent dining room, with enough seats to accommodate everyone. So I don’t get why we always have to bring the food outside on the decaying wooden bed whenever we have relatives coming over.

What’s with that???

I just find it weird, that’s all. It seems that my family, um, “resists” luxury. Makes me wonder why that is.

My aunt came back to the Philippines after years of staying with her husband and kids in the U.S. (I was asking her to move back here for good… Tee hee…) 

Me and Ina. She’s my only living grandparent.

My aunt bought funny hats for her kiddos for when it gets cold in Washington. Of course, it was something my brother and I just had to try on. Yes, I know, we look like dorks. WE DON’T CARE. 

Do my brother and I even look alike? People say we don’t. But we share so much in common, like our propensity to act like mentally-challenged weirdoes whenever we were together. We also like the same food… which means we usually invent games and compete for, say, the last piece of chocolate chip cookie. Every minute is like a half-cooked adventure whenever we put our heads together.

Oh, I almost forgot. My brother and I sneaked out and went on a road trip. See? We are always up to no good.

Is it a good thing?

 

Do I dare? Or am I setting myself up for another gut-wrenching failure?

 

I DON’T WANT TO DO IT ALONE ANYMORE. This is just something that no person should be tasked to do on his own. Too hard, too hard!

 

God, we need to talk. Brace Yourself.

 

My Facebook wall is my stress ball. Yes, I know, my Facebook wall looks like a lifetime’s worth of therapy. Words have always been my allies. Even when sometimes they hide from me, in the end I find the right things to say.

Er, well, as long as I won’t be asked to speak in Tagalog…

And here are the words that once graced my Facebook wall:

When you fail, you get the chance to start again. And this time, you get to do it better.

Procrastination. Why it exists, I'll never really know. Maybe I should find it out right now! Okay, maybe later...

Not all tweets and posts have to be informative. Only non-smart people want to be smart about everything - it's called COMPENSATING.

When you feel like nobody’s got your back, when life is tough and everybody seems to be ganging up on you, always remember… to wash your hands after you use the bathroom.

Boys are not toys. They just happen to rhyme.

I am just human. I can't give what I don't have. I can't offer what I don't receive. I am not a superhero (although I may look just as hot as one).

Do you sometimes feel like the computer screen is trying to hypnotize you into staying online longer than you should???

I would like to thank all the cab drivers who did not refuse to convey me today. May they always have bread on the table... and really hot wives.

It’s okay to be stupid… as long as you don’t believe you’re actually smart.

There's this guy who won't take no for an answer. Short of bitch-slapping him, I don't know how else to fend him off. I need a fake boyfriend. Or an automatic rifle.

Even if I didn’t have the time, I’d make time. I’m just that good.

Note to self: do not listen to music while crossing the street. That’s not how you want to go to heaven.

  

I clamored for much

 

You came up with even more –

 

I stand corrected.

Paul Chambers used Twitter to vent. Stressed after thinking that his flight might get delayed, he unleashed this Twitter bomb joke: “Crap! Robin Hood Airport is closed. You've got a week and a bit to get your shit together, otherwise I'm blowing the airport sky high!” A few months later, he was tried in court (for purportedly having said something that verged on terrorism – huh?)… and he got convicted.

Does the justice system not recognize a joke even when it’s so obvious???

Science dictates that only beings with a high intellect are capable of possessing a sense of humor. Ah, that explains a whole lot.

It seems that freedom of speech is rather limited when it comes to the virtual world. The things we blurt out, even when they’re 140 characters short, just might get us served with a lawsuit. The Twitter bomb joke incident proves this notion.

So what exactly are we “allowed” to say online? Who sets the limitations? Who lays the ground rules? If you ask the president to step down on Twitter, do you deserve to go to jail? Do we start walking on eggshells and limiting what we do say online? Aside from blurting out a Twitter bomb joke, what else are considered online taboos?

Our words are our ammunition for freedom. If we can’t speak our minds online, isn’t that the same thing as not being able to speak our minds, period? I can feel an online war brewing… Good luck to us netizens.

Oh no, I said “ammunition” and “war.” Does that make me a terrorist now??? Great.

Looking at grey skies and

feeling differently.

Who knew I was a

sucker for poetry?

“Yes, sometimes it takes a lot of quiet strength to make a point. The noise of past fashion takes a humble backseat to the more recent stand of minimalism. Simple has become the new sexy. Perhaps it has always been that way, and those who knew all along will quietly hold that over our heads.”

 

I can’t believe I said that. Are those really my words? Am I really blogging about fashion now? I feel like a little kid lost in a ball and all I can think about is, “I want one of them ball gowns.”

 

Fine. I admit it. I like the clothes, I like writing about them, and I like getting paid for every word I write. I don’t care, it’s my life, get over it. :D

 

Aranaz Fashion Show November 2010

Ooh, ooh, today’s a sunny day! Time to make the most of it. ^_^

 

I’ve been practicing how to write like an angst-filled teenager. Have I been succeeding? Maybe. But it’s just not who I am. I can’t seem to sustain being “in that zone” for more than a day because my mind struggles to be free of the notion. I am not a tortured loser!!! my mind seems to scream out at me.

 

It’s time to gather the barbs I’ve thrown out and slather on balm for the wounds that hurt. (Also, enough writing as that persona I’ve been working on for the story. Even I can’t take it anymore!)

 

In the spirit of staying true to oneself, I’m declaring peace with everything pink and cotton-candy. Sigh, I hate being a softie. But sometimes, it’s just something you have to be to get others to breathe better.

 

I shall make cream of mushroom soup today! Man, that’s totally out of topic.

Loitering in my mind is the idea of abandoning a cause. I have turned my back, several times without remorse, over even the most trivial of reasons.

 

Is it about to happen again?

 

I am getting fed up. Kids should be left to play with other kids. I do not own a daycare center and have no intention of EVER owning one. Immaturity is a contagious sickness and I do not want to contract that disgusting illness.

 

They say people who give up never win. Hell, what’s with all the winning? I never even thought it was a game. Spare me, please. I am above and beyond child’s play.

 

Oh no, my walls. They’re higher than ever. I shall not be surprised if one day, people will start to think I’m a hermit living inside my own mind. My thoughts are becoming my best friends, with every idea and every emotion soothing my frayed nerves. I know I need to stay sane, so please don’t judge me. I have no intention of pushing people away; I just instinctively do.

 

THERE IS NO BACKSPACE IN LIFE. You make one mistake and you live with it for the rest of your life. Is that not enough reason to haul ass and abandon ship when you know it’s about to sink? I want to survive. I want to LIVE.

 

Holy moly I’ve done it again.

 

***Thank god nobody reads my blog.

 

You looked under my bed and chased the monsters away.

Now I have no nightmares; just dreams.

It’s my brother and his girlfriend’s anniversary.

 

Hookay. Where do I begin? That fact in itself is already loaded.

 

Hurray! This is my shortest blog post.

 

“Only the brave dare to be vulnerable.”

Do I dare contest that? No. I cannot lie through my teeth. I know the truth when it stares me in the face, when its breath mingles with my own.

“Denial is for the weak.”

Yes, I know. Have I ever denied anything which I know is true? My only weakness is that people read me easily, like a book meant for dummies.

Oh, flashback after flashback after flashback. Did it hit me that I was reverting to an older, more mind-playing me when I saw everything starting to fall apart? I remember the exact moment when I caught myself about to pretend.

I must remind myself never to act. I do not want people to see me peel my layers like a dried-up onion.

“I get stage fright,” I would tell people. It’s the simplest way to explain why I stay out of the limelight. BIG FAT LIE. I have always loved the attention and the fact that the stage was like my playground.

But I don’t want to be that person anymore. I keep myself invisible, unnoticed. Stef, be a wall flower. Are you getting goosebumps just thinking of it? Stef, stop. 

Learning to bask in the privacy of my mind gives me a higher high. The stage has lost its power over me. I am free!

Exit, stage left.

Food is a serving of heaven on earth – at least, that’s what I believe. So when my friend said we will be eating at Kitchen in Greenbelt, my eyes started to sparkle.

Kitchen, located at Greenbelt 3 in Makati, had a stark minimalistic interior. Even the block letters of its signage betrayed the “less is more” theme of the restaurant. With just enough tables, it was a cozy retreat from the usually crowded Greenbelt 3 I have grown accustomed to.

The servings were humongous. The plates were probably meant for Papa Bear instead of Goldilocks, so to speak. I ordered Lazy Oaf (herb chicken with spinach and rice), which was enough to satisfy my hunger. Their Barbie’s Cue (a combination of meat and seafood kebab with rice) looked like it was good for one – that is, one really REALLY hungry person! (Dear Kitchen, Greenbelt: thank you for keeping your servings big enough for Shrek’s appetite…)

 Lazy Oaf

 Barbie’s Cue

For dessert, I helped myself to a big serving of Wake Up (palitaw with coffee ice cream and sesame seeds). Boiled rice patties topped with rice, sesame seeds and coffee-flavored ice cream… I could not have asked for a better fix!

Wake Up

Of course, the day wouldn’t be complete without pictures of me acting silly. I’ll be going back to Kitchen at Greenbelt – if just to take a picture of their bottle of mint water! Tralalala…

Blue moon, blue me. Sounds about right. Nature has always been on my side.

 

Baaah. Maybe I’m just hungry.

It felt like grief was appropriate.

 

Today, I met up with a friend and we talked about the past eight years. Eight years is a long time to allow yourself to live your life and make mistakes – in other words, there was a lot of fun stuff to talk about. But something started to creep in, that feeling again. That epiphany that you’re doing something wrong.

 

Story after story, my epiphany turned to a solid conclusion. I wasn’t wrong to feel like I lost something… precious.

 

It’s not something tangible, not something you can hold in your hands and look at. It isn’t something you can keep in a box; it isn’t something you can store in a safe until forever. It’s as fleeting as time, as volatile as air.

 

And I lost it.

 

I walked home with a heavy heart. It was a great day – any day spent with old friends is always a great day. But unbeknownst to my friend, our conversation opened a deep wound which I thought has healed long ago.

 

GRIEF. That is the only word that can describe what I’m going through.

 

You glean the most unexpected bits of wisdom at the most unexpected times. I shouldn’t be sad because my realization will spare me a lot of grief in the future. It’s for your own good! It’s going to be okay! But hey, it did not spare me from grief today. There it is, the sadness you get after realizing you haven’t really learned much after eight years.

 

But why grief? Because I know what had to be done. And I am more than ever determined to accomplish my goal. Perhaps I make better decisions now… but my mind is just as immature as it used to be. I stick proverbial pins in my body and expect no pain? How stupid! I have always been a fool.

 

And the world is probably laughing at me. God, an eight-year-old mistake is about to bite me in the ass.

 

It will pass, I know. It is not my nature to stay sad for long. I just want to stay here a little longer and feel my loss before I move on. I want to wallow in my pain, in knowing that I am not perfect. I don’t want to make the same mistakes anymore. I would rather scar myself for life right now,, punch a hole in my chest and fill it with acid, rather than feel this kind of soul-shattering grief  lateR.

 

Like I said… It felt like grief was appropriate. See what I mean?

In miracles, that is. No? Yeah, me neither.

 

Or maybe I do but I wanna keep it a secret. Shhh.

Those little quirks. I understand them. The sentences repeated over and over for emphasis, as if I’m stupid. DUH. I’m just acting like I don’t get it because I want you to stop talking.

And then there’s that change in voice. It gets louder when a point is being made, like a punchline being repeated over and over as someone says, “You get it? You get it???”

Again, duh. I know a lot more than I lead on. Is it not obvious that I do? Ah, then I’m not the stupid one. I should be the one repeating sentences and changing the tone of my voice.

It’s like reading a book. Too easy. Neanderthals are so much easier to fathom. Give me a challenge at least.

Sorry. I’m being too mean. It must be all the writing. I’m writing a book where I need to be heartless, to be someone I no longer am. I have gotten so deep into it that I’m starting to forget who I am. The lines, they blur.

I am not mean, but I do know those quirks and I resent them. I am not stupid. If only the mind can dig deeper.

Yet… Yet… There is that thing. That saving grace. The effort is not entirely crap. I know it for what it’s worth. Still, I look on and feel like some spare parts are missing. There’s something not entirely right here, my mind tells me over and over.

But I swear. The next time I hear redundant sentences, I will turn around and never look back. “You get it? You get it???” Oh, puh-lease. I got it even before you said it.

In school, everything is black and white. Even teachers ask you to answer exams with either true or false. Nope, there is no maybe. As you can see, exams do not prepare you at all for what really happens in life – I mean, how many times have you said “maybe” because it’s absolutely necessary?

In fact, we’ve come up with so many versions of the word “maybe” because one word simply isn’t enough. There’s perhaps, probably, possibly.

And then there are negative and positive renditions of the word maybe. Do you think the thermostat in Starbucks will ever be set higher than a freezer’s? “It’s unlikely but possible.” Do you think Conan O’Brien gets his sense of humor from his skyscraper hair? “There’s a big chance that’s actually true.” See? There are just so many ways to say maybe.

And then there are the reasons why you say it. Is it because you want your response to be subject to interpretation? Is it because you can’t quite decide just yet? Or do you just want to bail out of a situation where both yes and no will get you in trouble?

Ah, of course, “maybe” is also used frequently in mind games. Let the enemy think what he will; let him keep guessing what’s really on your mind. It’s also the commitment-phobic’s favorite word. Do you think you’ll say yes when he asks you out? “Maybe.” Are you free next week? “Maybe.”

Maybe I’m just trying to justify why I always say maybe. Maybe I should cut the crap. Maybe it’s time I lowered my defenses a bit. Maybe I’ve been so cloistered I’ve forgotten the best reason to stop saying maybe.

Or maybe I just drank too much coffee.

I was thinking of names for a printing press. Here's what I've come up with:

1. Print Me Baby One More Time
2. Ang Best Print Ko Doon
3. My Prints Charming

This is why I should NEVER be in charge of naming a baby. Nevertheless, my family dropped the whole printing press idea, so there’s no need to think of names for a printing press. Instead, we have a computer shop. The name of our computer shop isn’t too controversial nor campy, which means I had nothing to do with it!

And if you’re still trying to think of names and logos for your printing press, do not even think of using the ones I thought of here, unless you want to go bankrupt. And now that I’ve put a pin on that, it’s time to move on.

I do hope this post gets revived. I’ve been trying to resurrect my blog, which is why I want to make this blog more professional. Well, “try” is the operative term here, so pardon the results.

Have you thought of any good names for a new printing press? If you have and they happen to actually be useful, post them here unless you want to use it yourself. Do visit the rest of my blog posts; I promise, the other posts are way more useful than this one.

What I accomplished (or what I didn’t) yesterday:

 

1. I did not write the article I pinky-swore to submit. Eh, well. It was due last week anyway.

2. I did not clean my room. You see, in my head, my room is like soap: it cleans itself.

3. I gave P500 to pay for P35 and forgot to get my change. Merry Christmas to the lucky bastard who still has my money.

4. I discovered a quaint little Italian restaurant that serves non-boring food. Even better, they also serve illegally strong cocktails.

5. I found out once again that cigarettes really are addicting and I’m lucky to have quit. But wow, that was my first puff in five years. I hate myself.

 

Things to do tomorrow:

 

1. Write a letter of apology for submitting an article a week after its deadline.

2. Get enough motivation to clean my room. (Scaring myself into thinking that maggots will crawl all the way here to set up camp will pretty much do the trick. I hate maggots! Awful little critters...)

3. Daydream about finding that bus and getting back my change. Hey, I’m celebrating Christmas, too, yes?

4. Promise myself not to eat Italian for one whole week. I do not want to end up looking like a pig. I refuse to look like I deserve to say “oink” in pictures.

5. Upload photos. That is, if I even get down to this part of the list.

 

Hey, I’m not always the Type A busybody everyone expects me to be. I’m a cross between a lazy hippie and Grinch. These are my issues… let it go already.

 

BuzzNet Tags: dumb blonde

But how could I not talk about it?

Crap, I almost forgot. It’s been there for quite some time but I couldn’t bring myself to face it. It’s about time, yes?

And yet I come up empty. See? No words. I would like to say it’s because I feel that talk is cheap, but I would be lying. And I would just be saying it to cover my ass.

Words are not cheap. They never are.

I live for words.

I live because of words.

Yet here I am again, at a loss for words. Maybe that’s how my mind works: things that matter to me are harder for me to talk about. After all, I keep secrets really well.

That’s the chink in my armor then. Whenever someone asks about something and I have nothing to say, it means there’s so much I want to say. Figures.

Cat got my tongue. Well, I’m blaming it on the cat – and I’m sticking to that story.

My old life.

Everytime I go back to that place, I wince. I can’t believe that inside this almost superficial, arguably optimistic facade lies a dormant entity I almost can’t recognize. There’s a darkness I can’t fathom anymore. I am lost to what that entity is, but it carries the same name as mine.

Yes, people change. I used to be so spiteful. I was best at exacting revenge. I always, always got what I wanted. Manipulation was something I have learned to master. “I make or break people” – yes, I used to say that for a reason.

I make or break people. Makes me shiver.

Fast forward to today. The Stef who once said that no longer exists – at least, not while I live. I’ve been keeping it at bay. I have succeeded. I have won. But I still can’t believe that was how it used to be.

Do you have a morbid side? Do you have a story to tell, a story so dark you would rather not share it even with the people you hold dear?

I regret having hurt so many people. Still, I am glad I came from there, the “other side.” I know the secrets. I know how the vicious people think. I am no longer as manipulative as I used to be – in fact, I can’t make myself wrap people around my finger – but I know exactly what goes on in the minds of people who used to be like me.

“Stef, you are

so heartless.”

I no longer am, okay? I’ve learned to be kinder. I’ve learned to forget. But once in a while, I do feel scared. What if she comes back, that venomous antithesis of myself? I will always, always keep her at bay. I have people to protect now. I need to protect them from me.

She comes back, once in a while. In my dreams. I get the nightmares. They’re still there. And they come often whenever I seem to be happy.

I make or break people. What a reminder of how I used to be. I wonder if people see that in my eyes. I am afraid they do.

Thank God nobody reads my blog.

*Disclaimer: The above blog post is not based on a true story… or is it?

Filipinos are good at renditions. Some think it’s a bad thing when Filipinos copy others’ ideas and pass them off as their own. Others think it takes a lot of creativity to get away with putting a spin on something that’s not yours and passing it off as your own.

If you ask me, it always depends on how it’s done. There is no fixed answer to the question of whether getting inspiration from other people’s original ideas is good or bad. Practically speaking, there really is no “original” idea; it just depends on who took the first effort to copyright or register it.

And we all know that we draw inspiration from life and from everybody else around us. All ideas come from a myriad of experiences that are not always just our own. However, when you take credit for something which you expressly just copied somewhere else, that’s a different thing entirely.

When I found out that the logo of the new campaign “Pilipinas Kay Ganda” was an outright rendition of Poland’s own tourism brand, I felt disappointed. It’s alright to draw inspiration from somewhere, but to copy all the design details is just tacky and tasteless. It’s a campaign for our country; don’t we want to have the right to be proud of it? We at least want to come up with something we can say is 100% Pinoy, yes?

Here’s the logo of our Pilipinas Kay Ganda campaign:

…And here’s Poland’s original version:

The font style, colors, the water waves, and even the tree are way too similar for this to be a mere coincidence. The advertising agency responsible for the alleged imitation is washing its hands.

This saddens me because I know so many brilliant artists who would have made a spanking campaign. And yet here we are: the Philippines ends up looking like a fool once again.

Filipinos are NOT stupid. Unfortunately, the few of us who happen to be the exception to that statement are the ones who got to work on the above logo.

Ah, Facebook. It’s more powerful than you probably realize. Through Facebook, people become instant friends… or instant enemies. Facebook will make or break you.

I have asked my friends more than once, if Facebook never existed, how different would your life be? Imagine not having to spend hour after hour commenting on your friends’ wall posts, or playing Farmville and earning fake money which you will never ever get your hands on in real life. Imagine not being stalked… or are you the one doing the stalking?

I have to admit, Facebook has given me a lot of insight when it came to my friends. I know more about them based on how they behave online, what stuff they choose to post, and how they react while everybody else watches. Without the knowledge I glean from Facebook, I would not be where I am today

However, I have a confession to make: I shall be deleting my Facebook profile soon. But before I do, I’m posting all my memorable wall posts here for posterity’s sake.

Here’s a collection of sense (and nonsense) that I’ve posted on Facebook. Go ahead, judge me.

I love the Internet. I am having an affair with the Internet. I am going steady with the Internet. The Internet is one lucky bastard.

Everybody's a bully. We all have our own special way of pushing other people around.

‎"Whenever I see porn, I wanna poke my eyes out." -- Mr. Liar Liar Pants On Fire a.k.a. Your Boyfriend

I remember looking at Kurt Cobain through teenage eyes and thinking, "What's on his mind?" I've always been a sucker for artists.

Breakfast is one of the many things I live for. I love the first bite because it makes me feel grateful that I didn't die in my sleep.

Sleeping cats are cute. Sleeping humans... not so much.

If you want to make yourself a better person, then good for you. If you want to make someone else a better person…. Good luck!

For two words to make sense, they need space in between. What more with two people?

When you seek clarity, prepare to see what's ugly.

It isn't that hard to always be right. But it's almost impossible to always be kind.

Diamonds are precious because they're rare and one-of-a-kind. So if you fit in with the rest of the world, don't be too happy about it.

Being honest and being harsh are two different things and should not be confused as the same banana.

Death. I bet it's a lot like life and, hopefully, not like love.

There. Have you judged me yet?

A few days ago, I met up with a friend and tagged along to a Bleach Catastrophe event. Of course, pictures were mandatory. (This explains the bombardment of self-conscious pictures you are about to see.)

 Inside Bleach Catastrophe, Greenbelt

“Will this look good on me?”

Bleach Catastrophe accessories

Needless to say, I was not dressed for the event. Still, I decided to tag along. Tagging along has always been something that excites me. Maybe it’s the split-second decision making, the spontaneity of it that appeals to me. Perhaps my curiosity always gets the better of me. Or maybe I live for unexpected adventures.

I have always been told that being too spontaneous is going to be bad for my health. Perhaps they’re right. But life is too short to say no to everything unplanned. There are lessons to be learned, experiences to be enjoyed. Of course, there’s also the people you get to know along the way.

In all honesty, ten years ago, I would never have seen myself remotely interested in clothes (or in meeting all sorts of people).

Maybe people do change – well, I sure as hell did. So, if you want to change yourself, good for you. But if you want to change someone else… heh, good luck!

It’s not a personal blog for nothing, yes? However, the whole world is watching (I must be careful).

 

I try to stay away from the limelight at all times. Attention is not something I crave. Okay, maybe sometimes, a little attention is nice. But too much of a good thing is a bad thing – or so they say.

 

And speaking of attention, a lot has come to my attention lately, like how my sink has started to regurgitate and how my AC unit has continued to leak. What is wrong with this place? Is it starting to show signs of illness after all that it’s been through? Is there just way too much oppression in here? I need to move out. This place is no longer my own. I have obviously overstayed my welcome.

 

I need a fresh start. I need a new place, one that’s free of lingering memories. I am not a fan of the past.

 

Just yesterday, I came across news that changed everything. I felt surprised, grateful, hurt. Shocked. It was as if a bucket of cold water was emptied over my head. It was a grand reality check, something I really needed.

 

Thank God for gossip, for people who care enough to tell you what they know. They have saved me from a lot of trouble. Well, the news they threw my way is going to bring me a lot of misery in the next few days… But in the long run, I’ve been spared a lot of… what? I don’t know what I’m being spared of. But whatever it is, I’ve always had an inkling that it has something to do with trouble.

 

So, here goes step one of the great undoing. Step one, done. The next few steps will be more painful. I am aware of the consequences, I know, I know. I am not ready, but I will do it. I will probably cry until I fall asleep; I will probably flog myself mentally for torturing myself. But it has to be done – I promised that things will change, and they shall.

 

Ah, gossip. See how the world still talks about you despite how much you avoid the limelight.

I’ve been trying to avoid Facebook for a variety of reasons (I need to work, dammit) but I’ve been failing miserably.

So there I was, going about my own business, when I saw something that made me laugh. Google, you see, is like my ideal man: full of funny BS.

Follow the steps below and you’ll see what I mean.

1. Go to maps.google.com.

2. Click on the “Get Directions” link on the upper left side of the page.

3. In the first field, type “Taiwan.”

4. In the second field, type “China.”

5. Click on the “Get Directions” button.

6. Scroll down the instructions. Read step #24***.

I feel that it’s just a matter of time before someone stupid does what Google says – and it’s also just a matter of time before Google gets sued (again).

Google is so silly. Google is so flawed. Google just made my day. See? Google is acting like my ideal man already.

Oh, and if step #24 doesn’t make you laugh, go see a doctor.

***Step #24: “Swim across the Pacific Ocean.”

Taufik Kiemas, the Speaker of the People’s Consultative Assembly of China, declared last Tuesday that their government will help Indonesia in preparing for tsunamis. They plan to help in the acquisition of warning devices and equipment.

Taufik also said that China’s plan to provide technical assistance is their way of showing solidarity with Indonesia; after all, both countries are being faced with disasters at the same time. But this reasoning is so selfish in nature; imagine helping someone out just because you’re going through the same thing. Isn’t there a better reason to help someone out? Perhaps Taufik should choose his words carefully before he speaks.

Aside from technical and financial help, the government of China also plans on consulting with a team of scientists who specialize in tsunamis, Hajriyanto Thohari, China’s Deputy Speaker, added further. Hm, maybe they should have done this long ago, instead of just now.

About a year ago, Indonesia has already put up a system capable of providing early warning signals in case a tsunami is about to hit. Unfortunately, the installed system did not give off a warning before the most recent tsunami hit Mentawai Islands. Four hundred people died because of the tsunami.

The early warning device was unsuccessful after some of its parts have been looted. But where would the looters sell the spare parts? Sigh. After being struck by tsunamis over and over, Indonesia should really lay out much better plans.

 

Or maybe I just need breakfast so I’d stop bitching.

What do you think about smokers who insist on smoking in front of their friends who don’t smoke?

 

 

A few days ago, I spent the night talking to a friend of mine who was helplessly addicted to cigarettes. It would have been fine, but he kept smoking away even after I said I couldn’t care less for the second-hand smoke.

 

You see, I think smoking is not cool.

 

Since he was a friend of mine, I coughed my way through our conversation. I swear, I aged ten years in one night.

 

Him: Let’s stay outdoors so I can smoke.

Me: But I don’t smoke.

Him: Well, I have to smoke. Let’s stay outside!

Me: I don’t want to inhale second-hand smoke.

Him: Come on, you’re killing my buzz.

Me: *mumble mumble*

 

Hookay. Is it just me, or is there something not quite right with that conversation?

 

 

Fast forward to today. I’m still coughing in between sentences and I now have a raspy voice. Sexy, yes, but totally unhealthy. I can probably sing like Macy Gray now but do I really need that? I would rather have my annoying, normal voice back.

 

Besides, smokers have such nasty breath. Now, tell me, who wants that?

It is not everyday that our country finds a champion. Yes, Manny Pacquiao has had to deal with a lot of punches, both in and out of the ring… but I feel that everybody has been too critical. Nobody really knows what goes on behind the scenes.

However, we all know what happens in the ring. One thing is for sure: he’s got what it takes, that “it” factor. So, regardless of what I feel about his entering politics, I totally support Pacquiao in his next big fight.

He deserves our support. After all, it’s our country he’s representing – and so far, he’s been a great champion for us.

Good luck to Manny (not that he needs it)! ^_^

1. Stare blankly into space.

2. Say, “You know, ugly people talk a lot.”

3. Keep interrupting every time the conversation gets interesting.

4. Bring up your pet cat (again).

5. Ask as innocently as possible, “Can you teach me how to French kiss?”

Forty days and forty nights. Even in the bible, that means something. It rained for forty days and forty nights when God wanted to cleanse the world and start over. Moses was on a mountain with God for forty days. Jesus fasted for forty days in the wilderness. The list goes on forever.

 

So… as promised. It’s been forty days and forty nights since then. And, just like in the bible, it’s significant… but not something to celebrate about.

 

Why do I always have to sound so sobering in my blog posts? I should have downed a glass of wine before I started writing this. But nah, it wouldn’t change my mind anyway. After all, I made a promise to myself.

 

Count back forty days. But don’t regret looking back. If only someone else’s promise was kept, then I would be more than happy to break mine.

 

Sigh. November 6, 2010.