I am not an NFL fan nor am I a sports enthusiast. But I like stalking certain types of human beings.
For 15 years, I occasionally stalked Prince William, until he married Kate Middleton. Prince William was the embodiment of a childhood fantasy - becoming a princess and living happily every after. Reading his mum's biography discouraged me though. Along with Prince William were Jose Rizal, Mateo G. (before he became famous), Josh Groban, and many others.Two years ago, I have been a Demi Lovato fanatic and still is even after her fall from grace. She was able to soar up, like a broken phoenix anyway. Last year, I discovered Joel Houston and Hillsong United.
And through him, I learned who Tim Tebow is. I don't care about NFL as I have said. I do not even know what it means, honest. National Football League? (fingers crossed). But, a young man who is into Jesus, is intelligent (no brain damage yet?, oh yes, I have heard the football=brain damage joke in movies) and has a great body too is fascinating and entertaining. Makes you want to go dig deeper. Why?
My reasoning is simple. I want to believe that God makes beautiful people not just from the inside but the outside too. I want to prove to myself that beauty is not only skin deep. I want to believe that persons in that kind of limelight are not shallow ponds but deepwells of wisdom too.
We will see won't we? For one so young (he's 24 right), he is prone to all sorts of beautiful experiences and temptations that may or may not rock his spiritual foundation.
Well, the crap above is from the point of view of the good girl. The bad girl in me wants to be fascinated, titillated, and shocked by the possibility of corruption. Oh well, wicked me.
If he is indeed not a phony but a true blue whatever he wants to present, good for him. If not, he will be just one of the many disappointments I have uncovered along the way. I can always go back to Joel Houston. I have not yet uncovered any dirty secrets online about him and I have been watching for 4 or 5 months now.
Demi Lovato has disappointed me in a way but she has earned my respect. She has tried to live a life in this broken world, a life without the pretensions of a goody-two-shoes image but a decent one anyway.
But these guys, we'll see.
Showing posts with label Dirty Secrets. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dirty Secrets. Show all posts
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Saturday, December 31, 2011
2011-2012 Collision
I have always had a definite fascination for New Year's Eve since I was young. It meant more to me than Christmas Eve or even my birthday.
But, while lying in bed 30 minutes after the clock struck 12, and a little dizzy from drinking three glasses of red wine (can you get drunk on that stuff?), I kept remembering one New Years Eve celebration that went awry...well one or two.
The first one happened when I was in grade school. I remember lying awake all morning of that New Year, listening to the silence of the house...a stillness I did not appreciate at that time. I remember promising that I will never spend a New Year in that kind of solitary silence- with tears as consolation. That was the one time I can specifically remember that our family did not welcome the New Year with its usual celebration. Something happened but I was too young to understand.
Then, I remember another New Year celebration I spent listening to My Chemical Romance The Black Parade while swilling Carlo Rossi. That wine was not chilled and all the bubbles went to my head really, really fast. It was more a funeral party than a New Year's Celebration and my sibling and I spent it listening and replaying The Black Parade.
Then, my fascination for New Year Celebrations ended. Waiting for calls from loved ones when you can have them around you and rushing around from one house to the next makes occasions such as this one rather meaningless...fruitless.
How do I feel right now? I want to drink another glass of that wine. I think I should get something stronger (but I really hate the taste and smell of hard liquor). So now, here I am, listening to The Black Parade again while making promises that sometime in the near future, I will not be subjecting myself into charades like this one.
But, while lying in bed 30 minutes after the clock struck 12, and a little dizzy from drinking three glasses of red wine (can you get drunk on that stuff?), I kept remembering one New Years Eve celebration that went awry...well one or two.
The first one happened when I was in grade school. I remember lying awake all morning of that New Year, listening to the silence of the house...a stillness I did not appreciate at that time. I remember promising that I will never spend a New Year in that kind of solitary silence- with tears as consolation. That was the one time I can specifically remember that our family did not welcome the New Year with its usual celebration. Something happened but I was too young to understand.
Then, I remember another New Year celebration I spent listening to My Chemical Romance The Black Parade while swilling Carlo Rossi. That wine was not chilled and all the bubbles went to my head really, really fast. It was more a funeral party than a New Year's Celebration and my sibling and I spent it listening and replaying The Black Parade.
Then, my fascination for New Year Celebrations ended. Waiting for calls from loved ones when you can have them around you and rushing around from one house to the next makes occasions such as this one rather meaningless...fruitless.
How do I feel right now? I want to drink another glass of that wine. I think I should get something stronger (but I really hate the taste and smell of hard liquor). So now, here I am, listening to The Black Parade again while making promises that sometime in the near future, I will not be subjecting myself into charades like this one.
Thursday, November 18, 2010
Heaven Almighty
(A throwback to watching Bruce Almighty and Evan Almighty last weekend.)
The bedrock of my life is eroding beneath me. Bruce Nolan (Jim Carry)cried this Nolan when he did not get the anchor job he so wanted.
I cried out this line when I found out that my long time crush, obsession and fascination was actually getting married.
Yeah, talk about adolescent angst carried over to twisted adulthood.
Anyway, I have been in crush with the guy since I was eleven years old. That was back to the time when I did not believe in fairy tales and Santa Claus. Because of him, I started believing in happily ever afters, in the great vast unknown and in destiny.
It was this guy who made me very interested to know things around me. He made me want to learn about the world, his world and my world. He inspired me to read about things that I do not know about. He made me long for fairytales, for distant places, for the future.
I have files of articles, pictures and what not's about him. I kept them all and even brought them whenever I travel. I write letters to the guy which I kept in my file.
Whenever I fall out of crush, I always "tell" him and feel comforted afterwards. He kept me sane for the most insane part of my development. He kept me grounded but allowed me to soar and use my imagination and my love of reading. Because of him, I got hooked to regency romances, then historical romances and then off to anything English.
Partly because of him, I took up English as my major because I wanted to be an English teacher.
I stopped consulting and getting comfort from him after I graduated from college. That was also just about the time that I stopped believing in marriage.
Then, last Tuesday, I opened my box, found his file and I started going over it. Once more, he gave me comfort and delight and belief in the future. But with that came the realization that I love the guy already. Why? Because he was a fairly decent fellow who taught me all about life, who kept his sanity despite the break up of his parents marriage and his mother's death. Despite the abnormality of his life, the temptations, the difficulties - the guy was able to grow up decently.
The next day, on that Wednesday, I just had to hear the announcement over Bombo radyo. I was on my way to catch the Salngan jeep and I just had to hear that. Prince William is marrying his long time sweet heart.
Yes, I was talking about Prince William, my long time crush. It was William who inspired me to study really hard. I remember spending one afternoon lying on our school library floor just reading an encyclopedia on United Kingdom.I studied English literature, studied UK in detail, read regency and historical romance novels set in England, Wales and Scotland, fell in love with Shakespeare and Blake because of my obsession with English lit.Unearthed Austen and Wilde too. Darn. He has lead me to a lot of interests. He also made me a voracious internet user in high school (at a time when the per hour rent was P30.00).
I was so jealous of one of my classmates who also had a crush on him. Now, that classmate is a happy Mom and I am still obsessing with William.
So, bedrock - of - my - life - is - eroding - beneath - me - line should suitably describe how i feel.
Anyway, I hope the marriage will be a happy, successful and fruitful one. But do they have to use Princess Diana's engagement ring?
The bedrock of my life is eroding beneath me. Bruce Nolan (Jim Carry)cried this Nolan when he did not get the anchor job he so wanted.
I cried out this line when I found out that my long time crush, obsession and fascination was actually getting married.
Yeah, talk about adolescent angst carried over to twisted adulthood.
Anyway, I have been in crush with the guy since I was eleven years old. That was back to the time when I did not believe in fairy tales and Santa Claus. Because of him, I started believing in happily ever afters, in the great vast unknown and in destiny.
It was this guy who made me very interested to know things around me. He made me want to learn about the world, his world and my world. He inspired me to read about things that I do not know about. He made me long for fairytales, for distant places, for the future.
I have files of articles, pictures and what not's about him. I kept them all and even brought them whenever I travel. I write letters to the guy which I kept in my file.
Whenever I fall out of crush, I always "tell" him and feel comforted afterwards. He kept me sane for the most insane part of my development. He kept me grounded but allowed me to soar and use my imagination and my love of reading. Because of him, I got hooked to regency romances, then historical romances and then off to anything English.
Partly because of him, I took up English as my major because I wanted to be an English teacher.
I stopped consulting and getting comfort from him after I graduated from college. That was also just about the time that I stopped believing in marriage.
Then, last Tuesday, I opened my box, found his file and I started going over it. Once more, he gave me comfort and delight and belief in the future. But with that came the realization that I love the guy already. Why? Because he was a fairly decent fellow who taught me all about life, who kept his sanity despite the break up of his parents marriage and his mother's death. Despite the abnormality of his life, the temptations, the difficulties - the guy was able to grow up decently.
The next day, on that Wednesday, I just had to hear the announcement over Bombo radyo. I was on my way to catch the Salngan jeep and I just had to hear that. Prince William is marrying his long time sweet heart.
Yes, I was talking about Prince William, my long time crush. It was William who inspired me to study really hard. I remember spending one afternoon lying on our school library floor just reading an encyclopedia on United Kingdom.I studied English literature, studied UK in detail, read regency and historical romance novels set in England, Wales and Scotland, fell in love with Shakespeare and Blake because of my obsession with English lit.Unearthed Austen and Wilde too. Darn. He has lead me to a lot of interests. He also made me a voracious internet user in high school (at a time when the per hour rent was P30.00).
I was so jealous of one of my classmates who also had a crush on him. Now, that classmate is a happy Mom and I am still obsessing with William.
So, bedrock - of - my - life - is - eroding - beneath - me - line should suitably describe how i feel.
Anyway, I hope the marriage will be a happy, successful and fruitful one. But do they have to use Princess Diana's engagement ring?
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
My Kris Lawrence Madness
If there was one music genre that I detest, its R&B.
Ask my sister. I don’t listen to Neyo and Chris Brown. I hated my sister’s taste in music because she was really into the R&B thing.
I was more on Lenka, Linkin Park, and Evanescence, I’m afraid. When Miss Independent hit the charts, I was probably one of those who remained unmoved. Forever was also duh for me.
Now, I have a playlist which features these R&B sh#ts.
And all because of one man (he is more icon than man for me).
Who?
Do you even have to ask? (Well, yeah. I mean, nobody has ever made any sense of my brain. It is so untypical).
Well, it’s Kris Lawrence.
Who, you ask?
No, not Lawrence of Arabia. Yes, I know. I tend to fall in love with dead people, but this one is really alive and kicking. I mean, he is just so hot (huh! Heaven used hot to refer to a person!!! Sure, shocking…)
Let me tell you the story of how I, a jaded and cynical old woman of 24 fell in love with a star. (Uh, no. Not in love. More or less, I was star struck. Bedazzled so to speak…)
The day…
It was an unexpected day in hell. Saturdays usually are since by that time of the week, I would be one of the walking dead.
Yeah, no teacher could ever claim Saturday as a fun day (well probably if you spent the whole week skipping classes that is). Not especially if you have to go and attend a graduate school class that was supposed to start at 7:30 in the morning.
So I was late in Methods of Research and I also had to present my thesis proposal on that very day. Oh, the date. Yes, thanks for reminding me. It was the 15th of August in the year of our lord 2009.
Anyway, on to the next class….our teacher in Structures of English asked me to leave the room for 30 minutes since they had to check the midterm exams which I unfortunately missed taking. I spent that part of the hour talking with Adel (no, it was not talking, it was really whining and groaning and banging my head against the table in anguish for the fate God has decided to bless me with).
Then, after structures, I had to go to the city to buy mani. Yeah, peanut. My mother makes peanutsy things to sell in school. Extra income and all that. A teacher’s salary is never enough to feed our brood, you just have to know that!
When I went to whatever that place is called, I was feeling so okay with myself and so accepting that I decided to walk back to Robinson’s so that I can save P4 from the fare.
You see, if you ride from that market area to Jaro Plaza, you’ll have to pay P7-8 to the driver. From Jaro Plaza, you need to hail another jeepney to Tagbak Terminal and you have to pay another P7.
If you ride from Robinson’s (where jeepneys with the Jaro Liko-Tagbak Terminal Route pass by), you will only need to pay P10. And if the driver fails to notice you at first, you can even save more… if you pay somewhere near Jaro Plaza (harhar, but I don’t do that. I am to meek to even try that scheme. I can only imagine it, I’m afraid).
Anyway, when I reached the Big Chicken (is it the Mang Inasal mascot? I like calling it Big Chicken anyway.) I waited for about 15 minutes for the jeep to come.
However, Robinson’s Place looked so inviting that day.
No, I am not fond of window shopping. When I go to a shopping mall, it is usually because I need to buy something. Books usually.
In fact, there was even a time when I went to Iloilo just to buy a thousand pesos worth of books at Booksale. I left my hometown at 4:30, caught a bus, jumped for a jeepney to SM City and spent thirty minutes at SM City Iloilo to rummage for books at BookSale. After that, I caught the last trip bus bound for my hometown. I had a big grin on my face since tucked under my arms were my book treasures (yeah, I spent at least three hours on travel at that).
But that is supposed to be another story.
Anyway, when I entered Robinson’s Place at 2:30, I noticed that there was supposed to be an activity.
I did not know what the show was about or at least, I was not sure if it has already finished or was just about to start.
After drooling at the books in BookSale (I hate window shopping, really), I planned to go home. Then, I saw this poster with Kris Lawrence’s face on it. Moments of Love, as if I cared (back then, I honestly did not. Kris Lawrence was just a distant figure and I really did not care about him. I did hear him being interviewed at Boys Night Out a month or so ago…
Anyway, something made me decide to stay. And so, I waited and waited and almost memorized the procedure of making waffles and stuffs…Still, no Kris Lawrence.
I spotted two of my students somewhere among the throng of people and boy, was I embarrassed when they turned and saw me. I wanted to sink underneath the floor of Robinson’s Place at that time…
I mean these were my students! They know me as the old fashioned conventional man hater that I show the world. And look at what I am doing? Waiting for Kris Lawrence to arrive. Ugh!
I was always unimpressed with Piolo Pascual, Jericho Rosales, Richard Rodrigues (z?), Dingdong Dantes… If they were the ones who were supposed to arrive that day, I would not have bothered waiting.
But Kris Lawrence was…well, I can not really explain. Maybe, I was just ready to be star struck that day.
Kris Lawrence arrived at sometime around four thirty. He probably stopped at the Car Park area since he came in as stars were supposed to come in…with a grand entrance.
He was escorted by guards and it was really unexpected. I mean, I expected him to walk by the front entrance, instead, he came in from the second floor building.
Wow. I could not help grinning. He is not exactly the first celebrity that I saw. I mean, there was this really famous teen heartthrob back in college whom I saw at SM City (problem is, I was not interested, I was just hungry back then and I wanted to go home).
This time though, I was really paying attention.
When the crowd erupted into screams of Kris, Kris, Krissssss…. I started laughing. The crowd’s reaction was so damned funny I can’t help it.
Well, Kris Lawrence is only human after all. He is not God.
But, my heart was really beating so fast that time. My senses were so heightened and numbed at the same time.
I also wanted to scream but nothing left my mouth. There was this big lump in my throat that chokes back any humane reaction…
Then, he sang. I think it was Miss Independent. I was bowled over.
I never cared for the song but now, I keep playing the tracks. Stupid me.
He sang another song, a remake of Jeremiah’s song (forgot the title). Then, after that, he sang Forever.
I fell in love with the stupid song too.
Oh, if only I were beautiful and pretty and slim and sexy and all that… I would have probably caught his attention.
Oh, I did catch his eyes at one point for a second or two (because I was the only one in that goddamned area where you cannot see anything because the speaker things are there…I can’t get through the crowd!)
How did I know he was looking back? Well, a creepy crawly feeling went up my spine… The hairs on my arms stood on end and I just melted like rubble (thank God no student of mine was around). I almost screamed my head off.
Yeah. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. Magic in motion. His voice was so caressing and he was such a crowd handler, he can make your head spin (sometime in the future, I will reread this post and laugh my head off from this untypical eweness and yuckness).
That afternoon, I fell in love. It was a really heady experience. I was just smiling from the inside out and I held on to the joy with all my being.
It is an innocent emotion, I tell you. Pure and simple and innocent.
I have no other term to call that feeling. Star struck maybe, because I have never been star struck before. I always took experience and people with the typicality of everyday triteness.
All I know is, my heart was pounding so fast I felt so alive. Odd, happy tingles crawled up my spine in excitement and I was almost choking with exhilaration.
Darn.
I wanted that feeling. I felt so real, so alive…as if I was on the precipice of a really big discovery about the magic of the whole danged universe.
I was just about to grasp that magic with my hands when boom, reality came; Kris stopped singing and I had to reluctantly turn my back and go home to the real world just like everybody else.
(Sigh).
I guess that is it then.
And he probably was not looking at me, I just wanted to imagine it to be so (who would look at a fat, obese ugly walking pig in a mall?)
Anyway, the damage is done. Thoroughly. I hope I don’t get star struck again. I will try to avoid events like this one sometime in the future.
Why? Because…
Now, I am listening to R&B. I have Kris Lawrence on my desktop and I am planning to buy that CD. Anyway, I have always loved Ewan McGregors Your Song there so it should be worth it. Plus, I get to sleep with Kris Lawrence crooning love songs which remind one of a certain doctor and his patient…hehe.
I feel so unsure… tadada dadan...
Ask my sister. I don’t listen to Neyo and Chris Brown. I hated my sister’s taste in music because she was really into the R&B thing.
I was more on Lenka, Linkin Park, and Evanescence, I’m afraid. When Miss Independent hit the charts, I was probably one of those who remained unmoved. Forever was also duh for me.
Now, I have a playlist which features these R&B sh#ts.
And all because of one man (he is more icon than man for me).
Who?
Do you even have to ask? (Well, yeah. I mean, nobody has ever made any sense of my brain. It is so untypical).
Well, it’s Kris Lawrence.
Who, you ask?
No, not Lawrence of Arabia. Yes, I know. I tend to fall in love with dead people, but this one is really alive and kicking. I mean, he is just so hot (huh! Heaven used hot to refer to a person!!! Sure, shocking…)
Let me tell you the story of how I, a jaded and cynical old woman of 24 fell in love with a star. (Uh, no. Not in love. More or less, I was star struck. Bedazzled so to speak…)
The day…
It was an unexpected day in hell. Saturdays usually are since by that time of the week, I would be one of the walking dead.
Yeah, no teacher could ever claim Saturday as a fun day (well probably if you spent the whole week skipping classes that is). Not especially if you have to go and attend a graduate school class that was supposed to start at 7:30 in the morning.
So I was late in Methods of Research and I also had to present my thesis proposal on that very day. Oh, the date. Yes, thanks for reminding me. It was the 15th of August in the year of our lord 2009.
Anyway, on to the next class….our teacher in Structures of English asked me to leave the room for 30 minutes since they had to check the midterm exams which I unfortunately missed taking. I spent that part of the hour talking with Adel (no, it was not talking, it was really whining and groaning and banging my head against the table in anguish for the fate God has decided to bless me with).
Then, after structures, I had to go to the city to buy mani. Yeah, peanut. My mother makes peanutsy things to sell in school. Extra income and all that. A teacher’s salary is never enough to feed our brood, you just have to know that!
When I went to whatever that place is called, I was feeling so okay with myself and so accepting that I decided to walk back to Robinson’s so that I can save P4 from the fare.
You see, if you ride from that market area to Jaro Plaza, you’ll have to pay P7-8 to the driver. From Jaro Plaza, you need to hail another jeepney to Tagbak Terminal and you have to pay another P7.
If you ride from Robinson’s (where jeepneys with the Jaro Liko-Tagbak Terminal Route pass by), you will only need to pay P10. And if the driver fails to notice you at first, you can even save more… if you pay somewhere near Jaro Plaza (harhar, but I don’t do that. I am to meek to even try that scheme. I can only imagine it, I’m afraid).
Anyway, when I reached the Big Chicken (is it the Mang Inasal mascot? I like calling it Big Chicken anyway.) I waited for about 15 minutes for the jeep to come.
However, Robinson’s Place looked so inviting that day.
No, I am not fond of window shopping. When I go to a shopping mall, it is usually because I need to buy something. Books usually.
In fact, there was even a time when I went to Iloilo just to buy a thousand pesos worth of books at Booksale. I left my hometown at 4:30, caught a bus, jumped for a jeepney to SM City and spent thirty minutes at SM City Iloilo to rummage for books at BookSale. After that, I caught the last trip bus bound for my hometown. I had a big grin on my face since tucked under my arms were my book treasures (yeah, I spent at least three hours on travel at that).
But that is supposed to be another story.
Anyway, when I entered Robinson’s Place at 2:30, I noticed that there was supposed to be an activity.
I did not know what the show was about or at least, I was not sure if it has already finished or was just about to start.
After drooling at the books in BookSale (I hate window shopping, really), I planned to go home. Then, I saw this poster with Kris Lawrence’s face on it. Moments of Love, as if I cared (back then, I honestly did not. Kris Lawrence was just a distant figure and I really did not care about him. I did hear him being interviewed at Boys Night Out a month or so ago…
Anyway, something made me decide to stay. And so, I waited and waited and almost memorized the procedure of making waffles and stuffs…Still, no Kris Lawrence.
I spotted two of my students somewhere among the throng of people and boy, was I embarrassed when they turned and saw me. I wanted to sink underneath the floor of Robinson’s Place at that time…
I mean these were my students! They know me as the old fashioned conventional man hater that I show the world. And look at what I am doing? Waiting for Kris Lawrence to arrive. Ugh!
I was always unimpressed with Piolo Pascual, Jericho Rosales, Richard Rodrigues (z?), Dingdong Dantes… If they were the ones who were supposed to arrive that day, I would not have bothered waiting.
But Kris Lawrence was…well, I can not really explain. Maybe, I was just ready to be star struck that day.
Kris Lawrence arrived at sometime around four thirty. He probably stopped at the Car Park area since he came in as stars were supposed to come in…with a grand entrance.
He was escorted by guards and it was really unexpected. I mean, I expected him to walk by the front entrance, instead, he came in from the second floor building.
Wow. I could not help grinning. He is not exactly the first celebrity that I saw. I mean, there was this really famous teen heartthrob back in college whom I saw at SM City (problem is, I was not interested, I was just hungry back then and I wanted to go home).
This time though, I was really paying attention.
When the crowd erupted into screams of Kris, Kris, Krissssss…. I started laughing. The crowd’s reaction was so damned funny I can’t help it.
Well, Kris Lawrence is only human after all. He is not God.
But, my heart was really beating so fast that time. My senses were so heightened and numbed at the same time.
I also wanted to scream but nothing left my mouth. There was this big lump in my throat that chokes back any humane reaction…
Then, he sang. I think it was Miss Independent. I was bowled over.
I never cared for the song but now, I keep playing the tracks. Stupid me.
He sang another song, a remake of Jeremiah’s song (forgot the title). Then, after that, he sang Forever.
I fell in love with the stupid song too.
Oh, if only I were beautiful and pretty and slim and sexy and all that… I would have probably caught his attention.
Oh, I did catch his eyes at one point for a second or two (because I was the only one in that goddamned area where you cannot see anything because the speaker things are there…I can’t get through the crowd!)
How did I know he was looking back? Well, a creepy crawly feeling went up my spine… The hairs on my arms stood on end and I just melted like rubble (thank God no student of mine was around). I almost screamed my head off.
Yeah. It was beautiful. He was beautiful. Magic in motion. His voice was so caressing and he was such a crowd handler, he can make your head spin (sometime in the future, I will reread this post and laugh my head off from this untypical eweness and yuckness).
That afternoon, I fell in love. It was a really heady experience. I was just smiling from the inside out and I held on to the joy with all my being.
It is an innocent emotion, I tell you. Pure and simple and innocent.
I have no other term to call that feeling. Star struck maybe, because I have never been star struck before. I always took experience and people with the typicality of everyday triteness.
All I know is, my heart was pounding so fast I felt so alive. Odd, happy tingles crawled up my spine in excitement and I was almost choking with exhilaration.
Darn.
I wanted that feeling. I felt so real, so alive…as if I was on the precipice of a really big discovery about the magic of the whole danged universe.
I was just about to grasp that magic with my hands when boom, reality came; Kris stopped singing and I had to reluctantly turn my back and go home to the real world just like everybody else.
(Sigh).
I guess that is it then.
And he probably was not looking at me, I just wanted to imagine it to be so (who would look at a fat, obese ugly walking pig in a mall?)
Anyway, the damage is done. Thoroughly. I hope I don’t get star struck again. I will try to avoid events like this one sometime in the future.
Why? Because…
Now, I am listening to R&B. I have Kris Lawrence on my desktop and I am planning to buy that CD. Anyway, I have always loved Ewan McGregors Your Song there so it should be worth it. Plus, I get to sleep with Kris Lawrence crooning love songs which remind one of a certain doctor and his patient…hehe.
I feel so unsure… tadada dadan...
Friday, July 17, 2009
Out of My League
I think I now have an idea of what is so wrong with me.
I guess my biological system is letting me know that I am not getting any younger and that I had not done anything about that.
Just last night, while I was imagining myself in a near death experience (just my absolutely bizarre imagination, I’m afraid), all I could think of was that I wish a vampire or a werewolf would jump in the way and save me.
Well, as rotten luck would have it, no supernatural creature showed itself. Instead, I got home safe and sound and utterly bored with my life.
Yep. I am just bored with my oh so safe, oh so predictable.
I am just longing to feel my heart quicken a bit. My heart has played dead for a long while now. It has not faltered at the sight of a male. My breath remained steady in the presence of the guys I have met.
Now I know why falling in love (or even in crush is such a fascinating experience). It makes us feel a little more alive each day.
I guess I am really more dead than alive right now. All I can think about are the things that I have to do for class, my graduate school requirements, my writing. My life lacks the things that I crave most: adventure, romance and passion.
Love is too weak a word for what I have in mind. Passion, the blazing glory and flame of passion is what I am truly after.
Excuse me, where can one find a werewolf that is physically like Jacob Black (as Meyer described, not as portrayed by Lautner).
Well, Vampire’s are cool. But everybody seems to want them. Urgh! I forgot, everybody wants werewolves now. Let us see. What else is out there?
Hey, everyone, if you find some unclaimed beast or monster out there, just tell me. I am craving for some stupid-lamb-and-sad-masochistic-lion drama here.
I guess my biological system is letting me know that I am not getting any younger and that I had not done anything about that.
Just last night, while I was imagining myself in a near death experience (just my absolutely bizarre imagination, I’m afraid), all I could think of was that I wish a vampire or a werewolf would jump in the way and save me.
Well, as rotten luck would have it, no supernatural creature showed itself. Instead, I got home safe and sound and utterly bored with my life.
Yep. I am just bored with my oh so safe, oh so predictable.
I am just longing to feel my heart quicken a bit. My heart has played dead for a long while now. It has not faltered at the sight of a male. My breath remained steady in the presence of the guys I have met.
Now I know why falling in love (or even in crush is such a fascinating experience). It makes us feel a little more alive each day.
I guess I am really more dead than alive right now. All I can think about are the things that I have to do for class, my graduate school requirements, my writing. My life lacks the things that I crave most: adventure, romance and passion.
Love is too weak a word for what I have in mind. Passion, the blazing glory and flame of passion is what I am truly after.
Excuse me, where can one find a werewolf that is physically like Jacob Black (as Meyer described, not as portrayed by Lautner).
Well, Vampire’s are cool. But everybody seems to want them. Urgh! I forgot, everybody wants werewolves now. Let us see. What else is out there?
Hey, everyone, if you find some unclaimed beast or monster out there, just tell me. I am craving for some stupid-lamb-and-sad-masochistic-lion drama here.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
Theme Songs
Yeah, I know. Sounds corny huh? I am still a true softee at heart. You see, I do have my list of songs that can symbolize ones existence (no matter how sorry that existence is).
Here are some of the songs I can relate with when it comes to certain aspects of my life.
1. Save You by Simple Plan – this song describes how I feel towards students of the public high school where I am currently employed. I also feel the same for the youth of this country in general. That is one of the reasons why I feel so passionate about being a teacher (I am aware of the story behind the song but it can also apply to the students who are not as lucky as others)
2. Leave out all the Rest by Linkin Park – this is my song for the school administration of my Alma Mater and for all the students I have taught in the past three years. (I know, the message is confusing but I do feel that way too)
3. Little Wonders by Rob Thomas – This is my theme song, the song I always sing to make me smile and feel happy
4. That Don’t Impress me Much by Shania Twain – that song explains how I feel about celebrity figures like Piolo Pascual, Dingdong Dantes, Richard Gutierez (is that how the last name is spelled?), Brad Pitt ( I love Hugh Grant though) and people like them
5. All the Love in the World by the Corrs – to the man I might marry (or not). I still don’t know him.
6. Love Song for No One by John Mayer – also for the man I might love. If he ever walks by my way of the planet… Still, I am thankful he is not yet here, I am too busy to pay any attention to anything as of this moment
7. Jaane Kyun (A Dostana soundtrack) – To my Indian friend, Daniel. He is a cool guy and he always keeps the chills away.
8. Cyclone (Baby Bash feat. T-Pain) – to a girl who haunted my dreams once and made me fear that I am not a female in the true sense of the word (I dreamt of kissing a girl when I was in high school and I kept remembering how my hands fitted on her sexily slim hips)
9. Torn by Natalie Imbruglia – to my unconventional mother and to all my unconventional beliefs. I still love you Nay, but that does not make me blind
10. Insomnia by Craig David – To my unfinished clearance
11. Somewhere I Belong by Linkin Park – my reaction about what is happening with my career so far
12. Don’t Stay by Linkin Park – one of my song symbols that I like to play from time to time (meaning, after my last period class every afternoon). This is for my school as well and a little bit for my idiocy
13. Tourniquet by Evanescence – my plea
14. The Greatest Love of All – my battle cry as a teacher
15. Time for me to Fly by Jonas Brothers – a song which I would play out loud five years from now
16. Underdog by Jonas Brothers – for the little girl I left behind in elementary
17. Alone by Celine Dion – for the man who is yet to come
18. Can’t Cry Hard Enough – for Spielberg, who died last April 20, 2009
19. Way Back into Love – I just love that song
20. I’m Still Here by Johnny Rzeznik – to the school administration … and sometimes, to God
Does that line up of songs tell something about the inner workings of my mind right now?
If it does, it goes to show that you can never truly know a person.
Here are some of the songs I can relate with when it comes to certain aspects of my life.
1. Save You by Simple Plan – this song describes how I feel towards students of the public high school where I am currently employed. I also feel the same for the youth of this country in general. That is one of the reasons why I feel so passionate about being a teacher (I am aware of the story behind the song but it can also apply to the students who are not as lucky as others)
2. Leave out all the Rest by Linkin Park – this is my song for the school administration of my Alma Mater and for all the students I have taught in the past three years. (I know, the message is confusing but I do feel that way too)
3. Little Wonders by Rob Thomas – This is my theme song, the song I always sing to make me smile and feel happy
4. That Don’t Impress me Much by Shania Twain – that song explains how I feel about celebrity figures like Piolo Pascual, Dingdong Dantes, Richard Gutierez (is that how the last name is spelled?), Brad Pitt ( I love Hugh Grant though) and people like them
5. All the Love in the World by the Corrs – to the man I might marry (or not). I still don’t know him.
6. Love Song for No One by John Mayer – also for the man I might love. If he ever walks by my way of the planet… Still, I am thankful he is not yet here, I am too busy to pay any attention to anything as of this moment
7. Jaane Kyun (A Dostana soundtrack) – To my Indian friend, Daniel. He is a cool guy and he always keeps the chills away.
8. Cyclone (Baby Bash feat. T-Pain) – to a girl who haunted my dreams once and made me fear that I am not a female in the true sense of the word (I dreamt of kissing a girl when I was in high school and I kept remembering how my hands fitted on her sexily slim hips)
9. Torn by Natalie Imbruglia – to my unconventional mother and to all my unconventional beliefs. I still love you Nay, but that does not make me blind
10. Insomnia by Craig David – To my unfinished clearance
11. Somewhere I Belong by Linkin Park – my reaction about what is happening with my career so far
12. Don’t Stay by Linkin Park – one of my song symbols that I like to play from time to time (meaning, after my last period class every afternoon). This is for my school as well and a little bit for my idiocy
13. Tourniquet by Evanescence – my plea
14. The Greatest Love of All – my battle cry as a teacher
15. Time for me to Fly by Jonas Brothers – a song which I would play out loud five years from now
16. Underdog by Jonas Brothers – for the little girl I left behind in elementary
17. Alone by Celine Dion – for the man who is yet to come
18. Can’t Cry Hard Enough – for Spielberg, who died last April 20, 2009
19. Way Back into Love – I just love that song
20. I’m Still Here by Johnny Rzeznik – to the school administration … and sometimes, to God
Does that line up of songs tell something about the inner workings of my mind right now?
If it does, it goes to show that you can never truly know a person.
The Truth About Heaven
My mother used to tell me that if I ever got married, my husband would probably leave me.
Well, she’s probably right.
I was often accused as a cold fish ever since I have grown up and learned how to block pain and hurt from consuming.
Old friends used to think I never really cared about anyone. Even my family has remarked about the certain distance I placed between myself and the rest of the world.
I even heard someone ask one of my friends kun ano ako nga klase ka amiga because I spent most of my time away from my closest friends.
I heard that too often that I have started to believe them.
Until tonight that is.
What happened tonight? I stepped on a growing gecko(not sure of the term, basta, it’s a big baby lizard with a large head and a small body). I felt the odd squishy thing under my slippers and realized it was not just an ordinary ribbon or cloth but something live.
I made the mistake of looking down and checking it and looking straight through its eyes. Oh God. The eyes have bulged and it looks as if it was crying in pain.
I felt bad, guilty and I kept saying sorry. I did not mean it at all.
I realized that I can actually feel. I strongly empathized with creatures that are weaker than myself. That is why I avoid them as often as possible.
Pain suffered by others (especially animals) affects me deeply. I don’t know why really. I see the pain-filled faces and I think about the lives they led before and the lives they would lead after if they survived.
Another example is the death of my dog. I actually felt unhappy of the experiences he would not have now that he has died. He never learned how to lick a hand properly and he does not know how to piss as a male dog should. He also has not spend a lot of time outdoors because we were very protective of him.
One afternoon, on my way home and while riding a jeep, I passed by a wriggling form of a very small brown puppy by the roadside. I thought it was playing by itself, enjoying whatever piece of string is attached on its claws. Then, I realized that the dog has actually been hit by a car and was writhing in pain.
I was unable to hold back a gasp and all the way home, while on the verge of tears, I kept thinking about the little dog.
Nobody knows this about me but I care too deeply. Far too deeply than any ordinary human is capable of handling. That is why I have to put a lid on my emotions. Not because I am afraid of getting hurt but because I am afraid of what those feelings can do to others and to myself.
I was once a very possessive friend, a very jealous daughter and sister and a very keen person. When I have friends, I longed to possess them wholly and totally. I want them with me all the time.
Now, people often find me more alone than with someone. Now, I no longer know how it feels to be with anybody.
I am uncomfortable in the presence of persons who expect me to smile, laugh and talk with them all the time.
I have become the very reverse of what I once was before.
I once told a former teacher that one of the reasons why I fear any relationship with the opposite sex is that my kind of love would destroy a weaker man. I am not exactly a strong person.
In fact, some may term me weak. Unfortunately, I have abnormally strong passions. I just don’t reveal them.
Well, she’s probably right.
I was often accused as a cold fish ever since I have grown up and learned how to block pain and hurt from consuming.
Old friends used to think I never really cared about anyone. Even my family has remarked about the certain distance I placed between myself and the rest of the world.
I even heard someone ask one of my friends kun ano ako nga klase ka amiga because I spent most of my time away from my closest friends.
I heard that too often that I have started to believe them.
Until tonight that is.
What happened tonight? I stepped on a growing gecko(not sure of the term, basta, it’s a big baby lizard with a large head and a small body). I felt the odd squishy thing under my slippers and realized it was not just an ordinary ribbon or cloth but something live.
I made the mistake of looking down and checking it and looking straight through its eyes. Oh God. The eyes have bulged and it looks as if it was crying in pain.
I felt bad, guilty and I kept saying sorry. I did not mean it at all.
I realized that I can actually feel. I strongly empathized with creatures that are weaker than myself. That is why I avoid them as often as possible.
Pain suffered by others (especially animals) affects me deeply. I don’t know why really. I see the pain-filled faces and I think about the lives they led before and the lives they would lead after if they survived.
Another example is the death of my dog. I actually felt unhappy of the experiences he would not have now that he has died. He never learned how to lick a hand properly and he does not know how to piss as a male dog should. He also has not spend a lot of time outdoors because we were very protective of him.
One afternoon, on my way home and while riding a jeep, I passed by a wriggling form of a very small brown puppy by the roadside. I thought it was playing by itself, enjoying whatever piece of string is attached on its claws. Then, I realized that the dog has actually been hit by a car and was writhing in pain.
I was unable to hold back a gasp and all the way home, while on the verge of tears, I kept thinking about the little dog.
Nobody knows this about me but I care too deeply. Far too deeply than any ordinary human is capable of handling. That is why I have to put a lid on my emotions. Not because I am afraid of getting hurt but because I am afraid of what those feelings can do to others and to myself.
I was once a very possessive friend, a very jealous daughter and sister and a very keen person. When I have friends, I longed to possess them wholly and totally. I want them with me all the time.
Now, people often find me more alone than with someone. Now, I no longer know how it feels to be with anybody.
I am uncomfortable in the presence of persons who expect me to smile, laugh and talk with them all the time.
I have become the very reverse of what I once was before.
I once told a former teacher that one of the reasons why I fear any relationship with the opposite sex is that my kind of love would destroy a weaker man. I am not exactly a strong person.
In fact, some may term me weak. Unfortunately, I have abnormally strong passions. I just don’t reveal them.
Monday, May 4, 2009
The Truth About Heaven
My mother used to tell me that if I ever got married, my husband would probably leave me.
Well, she’s probably right.
I was often accused as a cold fish ever since I have grown up and learned how to block pain and hurt from consuming.
Old friends used to think I never really cared about anyone. Even my family has remarked about the certain distance I placed between myself and the rest of the world.
I even heard someone ask one of my friends kun ano ako nga klase ka amiga because I spent most of my time away from my closest friends.
I heard that too often that I have started to believe them.
Until tonight that is.
What happened tonight? I stepped on a growing gecko(not sure of the term, basta, it’s a big baby lizard with a large head and a small body). I felt the odd squishy thing under my slippers and realized it was not just an ordinary ribbon or cloth but something live.
I made the mistake of looking down and checking it and looking straight through its eyes. Oh God. The eyes have bulged and it looks as if it was crying in pain.
I felt bad, guilty and I kept saying sorry. I did not mean it at all.
I realized that I can actually feel. I strongly empathized with creatures that are weaker than myself. That is why I avoid them as often as possible.
Pain suffered by others (especially animals) affects me deeply. I don’t know why really. I see the pain-filled faces and I think about the lives they led before and the lives they would lead after if they survived.
Another example is the death of my dog. I actually felt unhappy of the experiences he would not have now that he has died. He never learned how to lick a hand properly and he does not know how to piss as a male dog should. He also has not spend a lot of time outdoors because we were very protective of him.
One afternoon, on my way home and while riding a jeep, I passed by a wriggling form of a very small brown puppy by the roadside. I thought it was playing by itself, enjoying whatever piece of string is attached on its claws. Then, I realized that the dog has actually been hit by a car and was writhing in pain.
I was unable to hold back a gasp and all the way home, while on the verge of tears, I kept thinking about the little dog.
Nobody knows this about me but I care too deeply. Far too deeply than any ordinary human is capable of handling. That is why I have to put a lid on my emotions. Not because I am afraid of getting hurt but because I am afraid of what those feelings can do to others and to myself.
I was once a very possessive friend, a very jealous daughter and sister and a very keen person. When I have friends, I longed to possess them wholly and totally. I want them with me all the time.
Now, people often find me more alone than with someone. Now, I no longer know how it feels to be with anybody.
I am uncomfortable in the presence of persons who expect me to smile, laugh and talk with them all the time.
I have become the very reverse of what I once was before.
I once told a former teacher that one of the reasons why I fear any relationship with the opposite sex is that my kind of love would destroy a weaker man. I am not exactly a strong person.
In fact, some may term me weak. Unfortunately, I have abnormally strong passions. I just don’t reveal them.
Well, she’s probably right.
I was often accused as a cold fish ever since I have grown up and learned how to block pain and hurt from consuming.
Old friends used to think I never really cared about anyone. Even my family has remarked about the certain distance I placed between myself and the rest of the world.
I even heard someone ask one of my friends kun ano ako nga klase ka amiga because I spent most of my time away from my closest friends.
I heard that too often that I have started to believe them.
Until tonight that is.
What happened tonight? I stepped on a growing gecko(not sure of the term, basta, it’s a big baby lizard with a large head and a small body). I felt the odd squishy thing under my slippers and realized it was not just an ordinary ribbon or cloth but something live.
I made the mistake of looking down and checking it and looking straight through its eyes. Oh God. The eyes have bulged and it looks as if it was crying in pain.
I felt bad, guilty and I kept saying sorry. I did not mean it at all.
I realized that I can actually feel. I strongly empathized with creatures that are weaker than myself. That is why I avoid them as often as possible.
Pain suffered by others (especially animals) affects me deeply. I don’t know why really. I see the pain-filled faces and I think about the lives they led before and the lives they would lead after if they survived.
Another example is the death of my dog. I actually felt unhappy of the experiences he would not have now that he has died. He never learned how to lick a hand properly and he does not know how to piss as a male dog should. He also has not spend a lot of time outdoors because we were very protective of him.
One afternoon, on my way home and while riding a jeep, I passed by a wriggling form of a very small brown puppy by the roadside. I thought it was playing by itself, enjoying whatever piece of string is attached on its claws. Then, I realized that the dog has actually been hit by a car and was writhing in pain.
I was unable to hold back a gasp and all the way home, while on the verge of tears, I kept thinking about the little dog.
Nobody knows this about me but I care too deeply. Far too deeply than any ordinary human is capable of handling. That is why I have to put a lid on my emotions. Not because I am afraid of getting hurt but because I am afraid of what those feelings can do to others and to myself.
I was once a very possessive friend, a very jealous daughter and sister and a very keen person. When I have friends, I longed to possess them wholly and totally. I want them with me all the time.
Now, people often find me more alone than with someone. Now, I no longer know how it feels to be with anybody.
I am uncomfortable in the presence of persons who expect me to smile, laugh and talk with them all the time.
I have become the very reverse of what I once was before.
I once told a former teacher that one of the reasons why I fear any relationship with the opposite sex is that my kind of love would destroy a weaker man. I am not exactly a strong person.
In fact, some may term me weak. Unfortunately, I have abnormally strong passions. I just don’t reveal them.
The Man from Dumarao (and a Dreamboy)
I
I spent most of my college days commuting from the university I attended and my hometown (which is 50 km away from each other).
I rode a jeep and a bus for about an hour and a half. My baon never fell bellow P150 per day.
I have experienced a lot while riding buses. I became quite familiar with some bus drivers and conductors and even some bus inspectors. Well, I was never the type to chat and talk but I occasionally give a smile of greeting to those who have been quite nice and polite to me.
Basta there are a lot of experiences that I have come to treasure, weird people I have come to meet and odd experiences and encounters that made its way on my journal.
But, there never was a man who made its way into my memory banks (ugh, very unliterary, I am so affected with all the sociolinguistic jargon we need to take in daily).
I guess when you are in school and you have to study, you really have no time to think about anything else. However, this past week, ever since grad school began; I have been obsessing on this thing.
Everytime I climbed up a bus, I always utter a silent prayer that I would be given a chance to sit with a strikingly fascinating man. I mean, when riding busses, I have never sat with a man since I was in college.
No. I always attracted old men and women who loved to talk about their sons and daughters and their grandkids the whole trip. Sometimes, I get to sit with business women who always have loads of paninda from super (the supermarket, a sort of divisoria like place, but dirtier and less literalized).
Once, a drunk sat by me and asked me for my name and even bragged that he owned several drugstores and businesses in Roxas and could well afford sending me to school (yeah, he was drunk). I had to move away since he was really making me nervous at that time.
I even managed to get to sit with a crazed guy who had blood all over his shirt and head and had an odd bump somewhere on his forehead. He seemed a bit off and kept muttering. I was so nervous the whole time. I guess that’s what I got for protecting my other half of the seat for that man.
Yeah. I was guilty of turning away potential seat mates that day because I was hoping that a fascinating man would come along and take that seat and I could fantasize the whole time I was sitting with him.
Pathetic huh? That happened just last Friday.
And then, yesterday, he came and sat beside me. The first fascinating man to sit with me on a bus ride home.
No. I was not expecting it. In fact, I have given up the pathetic practice of reserving the seat for a guy, any guy, as long as he takes my fancy.I mean, I am not yet an old maid and should not feel that desperate since I will be turning what, 24 next July. Haha.
I guess the fact that I have never had a boyfriend makes me that vulnerable. Really pathetic. Look at all those girls leaning against their boyfriends. Waaah. How does that feel, I wonder.
Anyway, I have just left the library with my head still reeling from all that reading I had. I can barely read signpost a few feet from me… and I was still reading Ryunosuke Akutagawa’s short stories when he suddenly sat beside me.
Surprise.
Who would have thought it?
He was tall, not really handsome, no. He does not even have any compelling charisma (if he had, I did not feel it). He was big but not remarkably so.
I guess what made him notable to my weird senses was the fact that he was the first real man I sat with on a bus ride home.
If I see him, I probably won’t remember him but I really went overboard with the fantasies (not sexual I assure, just sweet and innocent, General Patronage type, I swear).
I guess I felt safe and comfortable beside the man. I learned that he was off to Dumarao. He was carrying some sort of plate number for a car and he was wearing walking shorts and a Tshirt that I do not even remember the color (really haha).
I guess God knew His job. I often asked Him why He never allowed any cute man to sit beside me (since my sister often brags about how she keeps sitting with really cute guys, unlike me). Now, I know why.
Because when I fall, I fall too deep. I get too involved even for just an hour. I kept thinking about that man from Dumarao until now. Even if I could no longer remember how he looks.
II
When I was in Grade Four, I had a weird dream about a boy. In that dream, my classmates and I went to some place in the northern part of Iloilo where we met students from one elementary school there. My classmates sort of left me on my own and one of the boys told me not to worry since he will take care of me.
The boy introduced himself to me at that time. I don’t exactly remember the face or the appearance but I still have the name. He introduced himself as Cyril Nuevo.
I haven’t met anyone by that name.
I spent most of my college days commuting from the university I attended and my hometown (which is 50 km away from each other).
I rode a jeep and a bus for about an hour and a half. My baon never fell bellow P150 per day.
I have experienced a lot while riding buses. I became quite familiar with some bus drivers and conductors and even some bus inspectors. Well, I was never the type to chat and talk but I occasionally give a smile of greeting to those who have been quite nice and polite to me.
Basta there are a lot of experiences that I have come to treasure, weird people I have come to meet and odd experiences and encounters that made its way on my journal.
But, there never was a man who made its way into my memory banks (ugh, very unliterary, I am so affected with all the sociolinguistic jargon we need to take in daily).
I guess when you are in school and you have to study, you really have no time to think about anything else. However, this past week, ever since grad school began; I have been obsessing on this thing.
Everytime I climbed up a bus, I always utter a silent prayer that I would be given a chance to sit with a strikingly fascinating man. I mean, when riding busses, I have never sat with a man since I was in college.
No. I always attracted old men and women who loved to talk about their sons and daughters and their grandkids the whole trip. Sometimes, I get to sit with business women who always have loads of paninda from super (the supermarket, a sort of divisoria like place, but dirtier and less literalized).
Once, a drunk sat by me and asked me for my name and even bragged that he owned several drugstores and businesses in Roxas and could well afford sending me to school (yeah, he was drunk). I had to move away since he was really making me nervous at that time.
I even managed to get to sit with a crazed guy who had blood all over his shirt and head and had an odd bump somewhere on his forehead. He seemed a bit off and kept muttering. I was so nervous the whole time. I guess that’s what I got for protecting my other half of the seat for that man.
Yeah. I was guilty of turning away potential seat mates that day because I was hoping that a fascinating man would come along and take that seat and I could fantasize the whole time I was sitting with him.
Pathetic huh? That happened just last Friday.
And then, yesterday, he came and sat beside me. The first fascinating man to sit with me on a bus ride home.
No. I was not expecting it. In fact, I have given up the pathetic practice of reserving the seat for a guy, any guy, as long as he takes my fancy.I mean, I am not yet an old maid and should not feel that desperate since I will be turning what, 24 next July. Haha.
I guess the fact that I have never had a boyfriend makes me that vulnerable. Really pathetic. Look at all those girls leaning against their boyfriends. Waaah. How does that feel, I wonder.
Anyway, I have just left the library with my head still reeling from all that reading I had. I can barely read signpost a few feet from me… and I was still reading Ryunosuke Akutagawa’s short stories when he suddenly sat beside me.
Surprise.
Who would have thought it?
He was tall, not really handsome, no. He does not even have any compelling charisma (if he had, I did not feel it). He was big but not remarkably so.
I guess what made him notable to my weird senses was the fact that he was the first real man I sat with on a bus ride home.
If I see him, I probably won’t remember him but I really went overboard with the fantasies (not sexual I assure, just sweet and innocent, General Patronage type, I swear).
I guess I felt safe and comfortable beside the man. I learned that he was off to Dumarao. He was carrying some sort of plate number for a car and he was wearing walking shorts and a Tshirt that I do not even remember the color (really haha).
I guess God knew His job. I often asked Him why He never allowed any cute man to sit beside me (since my sister often brags about how she keeps sitting with really cute guys, unlike me). Now, I know why.
Because when I fall, I fall too deep. I get too involved even for just an hour. I kept thinking about that man from Dumarao until now. Even if I could no longer remember how he looks.
II
When I was in Grade Four, I had a weird dream about a boy. In that dream, my classmates and I went to some place in the northern part of Iloilo where we met students from one elementary school there. My classmates sort of left me on my own and one of the boys told me not to worry since he will take care of me.
The boy introduced himself to me at that time. I don’t exactly remember the face or the appearance but I still have the name. He introduced himself as Cyril Nuevo.
I haven’t met anyone by that name.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Job Hunter’s Ordeal
For three years, I have written three application letters to the same institution where I applied as a secondary school teacher. I guess, in these letters I have written, you will see the changes that happened to me.
Here is the second letter I wrote:
April 28, 2008
For a long time, I have nurtured the ream of serving my alma mater and sharing to my fellow %^&*#hons the treasure-chest of knowledge I have diligently collected over the years.
The very reason that I took a bachelor’s degree in education lies in the heart of the school where I graduated from. I had great teachers and a great training and I wish for the next generation of %^&*#hons to experience the same excellent education I had. Failing to serve where my love for education blossomed is almost synonymous to not heeding my mission and my calling.
I am (etcetera) and I graduated with a (whatever) from (wherever) last March 2006. I was awarded a Proficiency in English Award (Secondary) and Outstanding Student Teacher in English Award (Secondary) by the same institution.
In the same year, I took and passed the Licensure Examination for Teachers with a rating of 85.60%.
I have come to apply as a (whatever). I am very willing to come for an interview at any time you find convenient. I can be reached at this number: etc.
Thank you very much.
I was almost desperate at that point. In that letter, I was almost begging the school to take me in since I was so damn willing and eager to do anything for that dream. A dream which was nipped in its bud before it has even had time to flourish.
April 13, 2009
I would like apply for a post of Communication Arts Teacher (English) in your school.
I earned the degree Bachelor of Secondary Education (English) from (where I graduated)last March 2006. I graduated with a General Weighted Average of 1.49.
I took and passed the Philippine Licensure Examination for Teachers (PLET) on the same year with a General Average Rating of 85.60%.
I have served as a Secondary School Teacher in English I, this year, under the (blank,blank,blank)Local School Board.
Enclosed herewith is my resume which outlines my education, references and other pertinent information.
I know I have what it takes to help the school achieve its aims and ideals. I am also very much willing to learn and work hard if I am granted the opportunity to work in this school.
May God bless you.
To those who know me well, the letter sounds (or reads) so unlike me. It sounds bold, and brash and really confident. It also is direct to the point and seems very, very sure of himself (or herself).
Well, after three application letters sent to the same school (which happens to be my beloved Alma Mater), I guess you do get tired of trying to impress them with all your flowery words and credentials and your desire to truly serve it with all your heart and soul.
I have grown weary of waiting and the school has mad me feel very little, very tiny, very small and very insignificant.
Nanay and I also had a really weird argument over my lack of interest to prepare my application letter. She told me to have my certificates photocopied but I was not interested anymore and I don’t really know why.
I guess the two year experience has disappointed and disillusioned me. It will really take a miracle to bring back the faith I lost in the power and vision of teaching.
Here is the second letter I wrote:
April 28, 2008
For a long time, I have nurtured the ream of serving my alma mater and sharing to my fellow %^&*#hons the treasure-chest of knowledge I have diligently collected over the years.
The very reason that I took a bachelor’s degree in education lies in the heart of the school where I graduated from. I had great teachers and a great training and I wish for the next generation of %^&*#hons to experience the same excellent education I had. Failing to serve where my love for education blossomed is almost synonymous to not heeding my mission and my calling.
I am (etcetera) and I graduated with a (whatever) from (wherever) last March 2006. I was awarded a Proficiency in English Award (Secondary) and Outstanding Student Teacher in English Award (Secondary) by the same institution.
In the same year, I took and passed the Licensure Examination for Teachers with a rating of 85.60%.
I have come to apply as a (whatever). I am very willing to come for an interview at any time you find convenient. I can be reached at this number: etc.
Thank you very much.
I was almost desperate at that point. In that letter, I was almost begging the school to take me in since I was so damn willing and eager to do anything for that dream. A dream which was nipped in its bud before it has even had time to flourish.
April 13, 2009
I would like apply for a post of Communication Arts Teacher (English) in your school.
I earned the degree Bachelor of Secondary Education (English) from (where I graduated)last March 2006. I graduated with a General Weighted Average of 1.49.
I took and passed the Philippine Licensure Examination for Teachers (PLET) on the same year with a General Average Rating of 85.60%.
I have served as a Secondary School Teacher in English I, this year, under the (blank,blank,blank)Local School Board.
Enclosed herewith is my resume which outlines my education, references and other pertinent information.
I know I have what it takes to help the school achieve its aims and ideals. I am also very much willing to learn and work hard if I am granted the opportunity to work in this school.
May God bless you.
To those who know me well, the letter sounds (or reads) so unlike me. It sounds bold, and brash and really confident. It also is direct to the point and seems very, very sure of himself (or herself).
Well, after three application letters sent to the same school (which happens to be my beloved Alma Mater), I guess you do get tired of trying to impress them with all your flowery words and credentials and your desire to truly serve it with all your heart and soul.
I have grown weary of waiting and the school has mad me feel very little, very tiny, very small and very insignificant.
Nanay and I also had a really weird argument over my lack of interest to prepare my application letter. She told me to have my certificates photocopied but I was not interested anymore and I don’t really know why.
I guess the two year experience has disappointed and disillusioned me. It will really take a miracle to bring back the faith I lost in the power and vision of teaching.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
A Secret Side
I am an immature reader.
I guess that is one confession I am a bit embarrassed to admit since I am a literature student and my college professors used to frown about the kind of pulp fiction I am addicted to.
For the literary purist, I am the stereotype of one who preferred lower class reading materials over the realities of life.
I guess pain and reality and unhappy endings sell well to lit critics but I have never really fancied littering my reading relaxation with such pieces although I do study them for analytical purposes. I just can’t bear drowning in on them when I am supposed to have some bit of R&R.
Well let me share my reading list with you,
My Elementary days used to find me reading Sidney Sheldon stuff back to back. I started out with If Tomorrow Never Comes then I went off to Bloodlines and something about diamonds and mines that I cannot remember anymore. There was the Sands of Time and something about mirrors. It is no longer as clear and I no longer enjoy Sheldon as much as I did in the past. Sheldon books remind me strongly of old closets and antiquities, I just don’t know why.
Then, I turned to Tagalog pocketbooks, the really highly inexpensive ones. They were not as sophisticated as the ones we have now where you get to pick a series which suits your tastes. There was Helen Meriz, Maia Jose and several other Cinderella stories where the rich guy marries the poor girl and they lived happily ever after.
When I was in first year highschool, I went nonfic reading biographies and autobios of people. There was a Marie Antoinette book, a George VI one, A Catherine of Aragon story and the one about Princess Diana written by Andrew Morton. That was the reason why I got such low grades when I was in the first year. The tagalog romance novels I have been reading also ate most of my rest time as well and I barely have time to do anything else.
Then, when I was in second year, I gave up reading pocketbooks for a while and focused on my studies to catch up with what highschool students of my age are supposed to learn. I read the textbooks cover to cover and I did all my notes and studied my lessons. Emerging as top of the class by the end of the school year could not compensate with the boredom, damn it. I missed my books.
By the third year, a rent-a- bookstore has opened up in our small sleepy town where no one has thought of ever selling books because they do not sell well. I was so grateful to see a lot English pocketbooks for rent at 8 to 15 pesos for two days. I went book-berserk and found out that I actually loved reading medieval romances and historical lovestories (the pulp types, not the classics). I was into harlequin, zebra and mills and boon. I would miss recess for days and I would walk to from school to home just so I could rent my books. Since my mother disapproved of my habits, I often sit in front of a brook on the way home for hours on end and would go home when it was already inexcusable for me to stay on.
In college, I was into a lot of textbooks and treatises and serious literary works but I never gave up my passion for pulp romance. I could not. It has seeped into my blood. Along with Macbeth, I read Jayne Ann Krentz and Julie Garwood and a lot of other nonsense. Along with the poetry of the great, I read Anne Rice, tried Stephen King (and hated him) and went off with J.K. Rolling and Tolkien and Vanessa and Rose Tan and Arielle and Sofia, and Edith Montelibano (shocking Edith)….
I was a mad, indiscriminate reader. I read Coelho (introduced by Mae Sheilou and Adel), Dan Brown (courtesy of Adel), Bob Ong (what madness Adel), and a whole lot of crap I had not fully digested. I was also into Michael Chrichton, John Grisham, Jeffrey Archer etc.
But, I have always detested horror stories and ghost stories. I abhorred them which to most of my friends were quite abnormal of me. I also did not went through the whole Nancy Drew and Hardy Boy’s series phase.
And, I had not thought I was into intrigues, conspiracies and detective type of novels until I come across a romance line in one major publisher.
But this summer, I am so into it now. I absolutely loved detectives and agents and CIA’s and psychic heroines and odd out of this day sensation plus terrorist battles and the like. Coupled with romance, they just seem so palatable.
I guess that is one confession I am a bit embarrassed to admit since I am a literature student and my college professors used to frown about the kind of pulp fiction I am addicted to.
For the literary purist, I am the stereotype of one who preferred lower class reading materials over the realities of life.
I guess pain and reality and unhappy endings sell well to lit critics but I have never really fancied littering my reading relaxation with such pieces although I do study them for analytical purposes. I just can’t bear drowning in on them when I am supposed to have some bit of R&R.
Well let me share my reading list with you,
My Elementary days used to find me reading Sidney Sheldon stuff back to back. I started out with If Tomorrow Never Comes then I went off to Bloodlines and something about diamonds and mines that I cannot remember anymore. There was the Sands of Time and something about mirrors. It is no longer as clear and I no longer enjoy Sheldon as much as I did in the past. Sheldon books remind me strongly of old closets and antiquities, I just don’t know why.
Then, I turned to Tagalog pocketbooks, the really highly inexpensive ones. They were not as sophisticated as the ones we have now where you get to pick a series which suits your tastes. There was Helen Meriz, Maia Jose and several other Cinderella stories where the rich guy marries the poor girl and they lived happily ever after.
When I was in first year highschool, I went nonfic reading biographies and autobios of people. There was a Marie Antoinette book, a George VI one, A Catherine of Aragon story and the one about Princess Diana written by Andrew Morton. That was the reason why I got such low grades when I was in the first year. The tagalog romance novels I have been reading also ate most of my rest time as well and I barely have time to do anything else.
Then, when I was in second year, I gave up reading pocketbooks for a while and focused on my studies to catch up with what highschool students of my age are supposed to learn. I read the textbooks cover to cover and I did all my notes and studied my lessons. Emerging as top of the class by the end of the school year could not compensate with the boredom, damn it. I missed my books.
By the third year, a rent-a- bookstore has opened up in our small sleepy town where no one has thought of ever selling books because they do not sell well. I was so grateful to see a lot English pocketbooks for rent at 8 to 15 pesos for two days. I went book-berserk and found out that I actually loved reading medieval romances and historical lovestories (the pulp types, not the classics). I was into harlequin, zebra and mills and boon. I would miss recess for days and I would walk to from school to home just so I could rent my books. Since my mother disapproved of my habits, I often sit in front of a brook on the way home for hours on end and would go home when it was already inexcusable for me to stay on.
In college, I was into a lot of textbooks and treatises and serious literary works but I never gave up my passion for pulp romance. I could not. It has seeped into my blood. Along with Macbeth, I read Jayne Ann Krentz and Julie Garwood and a lot of other nonsense. Along with the poetry of the great, I read Anne Rice, tried Stephen King (and hated him) and went off with J.K. Rolling and Tolkien and Vanessa and Rose Tan and Arielle and Sofia, and Edith Montelibano (shocking Edith)….
I was a mad, indiscriminate reader. I read Coelho (introduced by Mae Sheilou and Adel), Dan Brown (courtesy of Adel), Bob Ong (what madness Adel), and a whole lot of crap I had not fully digested. I was also into Michael Chrichton, John Grisham, Jeffrey Archer etc.
But, I have always detested horror stories and ghost stories. I abhorred them which to most of my friends were quite abnormal of me. I also did not went through the whole Nancy Drew and Hardy Boy’s series phase.
And, I had not thought I was into intrigues, conspiracies and detective type of novels until I come across a romance line in one major publisher.
But this summer, I am so into it now. I absolutely loved detectives and agents and CIA’s and psychic heroines and odd out of this day sensation plus terrorist battles and the like. Coupled with romance, they just seem so palatable.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
The Fascination Facts
I have been fascinated of the Prince William of Wales since I was 11 years old. I don’t blame anyone for that failing. In fact, when I first saw the picture which caught my attention, I did not know that who was featured was actually a living Prince.
I have always been fascinated by nonexistent men when I was young. There was our national hero and then there is the child Jesus (He is God so He does not qualify as “man”).
The Jose Rizal fascination was inspired by a book on Rizal I read before. The fascination with the child Jesus was inspired by a Christmas time movie…and the fascination with Prince William was inspired by a picture of a 14 or 15 year old William smiling toothily and with childlike joy in front of the camera. So, I actually fell fascinated with the boy he was once, not the man he has become.
In fact, I remember feeling a little disappointed with how he turned out to be. I know it is sort of wrong to feel that way since that is pretty stupid but I sort of feel as if he has not actually lived up to the potential that I sensed in the boy.
He lost the happy, childlike look on that charming face he had in the photo, the innocent-looking eyes, the accepting face and the adorable big front teeth.
He used to wear his watch on his right hand too, revealing a sort of childish disregard to custom and a concern for comfort (since I read somewhere that he is left-handed). Since I sort of liked him, I also wore my watch on my right wrist back then.
Now, I recall seeing the watch on his left hand like everybody else.
I also remember liking the teener who seemed shy and schoolboy-like. I like seeing his unsophisticated self, his natural attitude, not really conscious of so many eyes watching him.
Now, I am still fascinated with the man he turned out to be.
I do know that typically, a rich young lad who grew up in the kind of environment he is could turn out to be a spoilt SOB or an emotionally handicapped person, unless he had someone to guide him along his way.
But, when things turned out differently in my own life, I realized that normal is as normal does. Insisting that they want to live a normal life is really silly, you know.
Normal in our standards is different from normal in their standards.
Because the norms that men adhere to often differ according to the planes of existence so it is quite overrated to say “I want to have as normal a life as possible.”
There is nothing really special about Prince William really. I have been watching some youtube clips of the guy as he attends one ceremony or another and the girls simply went wild.
I have never exhibited such a reaction in my life so I cannot understand that sort of hoo-haa over another person. Well, I guess I am not just into iconic idolatry.
Come to think of it, when did I ever madly scream over someone? I know I like Sandra Bullock and I adore Hugh Grant (hehe, I just watched Two Weeks Notice so may hang-up). Reese Witherspoon is cool too. And I think I sort of fancy Joe Jonas and Demi Lovato as well. And now, after watching Twilight (months after the Twilight craze) I guess I am also into Pattinson (or maybe, it’s the Edward Cullen character itself, Pattinson could do with more passionate intensity in a cool and not overrated manner.)
But, I have never gone wild over them.
During fiestas, when people in my hometown would throng over the arrival of a celebrity, I would go to the opposite direction (I hate the crush of people so I always avoid throngs and crowds as often as possible).
But then, I have not yet seen Prince William in person. Maybe if I do see him, I would also start screaming my head off (hehe, wonder what good it will do me, really stupid reaction).
Well, I just am plainly fascinated with Prince William in the same manner that Shakespeare, Byron, Shelley and Dickinson interest me. There is also the sense of wonder and curiosity about who or what he really is.
I mean, it is the kind of feeling you get when you hear a really good song and you simply want to download it from the internet so you will have a copy and you can play it anytime you want to. That is how I feel for him.
I equate the feeling with listening to the song Little Wonders by Rob Thomas. It’s beautiful.
I have always been fascinated by nonexistent men when I was young. There was our national hero and then there is the child Jesus (He is God so He does not qualify as “man”).
The Jose Rizal fascination was inspired by a book on Rizal I read before. The fascination with the child Jesus was inspired by a Christmas time movie…and the fascination with Prince William was inspired by a picture of a 14 or 15 year old William smiling toothily and with childlike joy in front of the camera. So, I actually fell fascinated with the boy he was once, not the man he has become.
In fact, I remember feeling a little disappointed with how he turned out to be. I know it is sort of wrong to feel that way since that is pretty stupid but I sort of feel as if he has not actually lived up to the potential that I sensed in the boy.
He lost the happy, childlike look on that charming face he had in the photo, the innocent-looking eyes, the accepting face and the adorable big front teeth.
He used to wear his watch on his right hand too, revealing a sort of childish disregard to custom and a concern for comfort (since I read somewhere that he is left-handed). Since I sort of liked him, I also wore my watch on my right wrist back then.
Now, I recall seeing the watch on his left hand like everybody else.
I also remember liking the teener who seemed shy and schoolboy-like. I like seeing his unsophisticated self, his natural attitude, not really conscious of so many eyes watching him.
Now, I am still fascinated with the man he turned out to be.
I do know that typically, a rich young lad who grew up in the kind of environment he is could turn out to be a spoilt SOB or an emotionally handicapped person, unless he had someone to guide him along his way.
But, when things turned out differently in my own life, I realized that normal is as normal does. Insisting that they want to live a normal life is really silly, you know.
Normal in our standards is different from normal in their standards.
Because the norms that men adhere to often differ according to the planes of existence so it is quite overrated to say “I want to have as normal a life as possible.”
There is nothing really special about Prince William really. I have been watching some youtube clips of the guy as he attends one ceremony or another and the girls simply went wild.
I have never exhibited such a reaction in my life so I cannot understand that sort of hoo-haa over another person. Well, I guess I am not just into iconic idolatry.
Come to think of it, when did I ever madly scream over someone? I know I like Sandra Bullock and I adore Hugh Grant (hehe, I just watched Two Weeks Notice so may hang-up). Reese Witherspoon is cool too. And I think I sort of fancy Joe Jonas and Demi Lovato as well. And now, after watching Twilight (months after the Twilight craze) I guess I am also into Pattinson (or maybe, it’s the Edward Cullen character itself, Pattinson could do with more passionate intensity in a cool and not overrated manner.)
But, I have never gone wild over them.
During fiestas, when people in my hometown would throng over the arrival of a celebrity, I would go to the opposite direction (I hate the crush of people so I always avoid throngs and crowds as often as possible).
But then, I have not yet seen Prince William in person. Maybe if I do see him, I would also start screaming my head off (hehe, wonder what good it will do me, really stupid reaction).
Well, I just am plainly fascinated with Prince William in the same manner that Shakespeare, Byron, Shelley and Dickinson interest me. There is also the sense of wonder and curiosity about who or what he really is.
I mean, it is the kind of feeling you get when you hear a really good song and you simply want to download it from the internet so you will have a copy and you can play it anytime you want to. That is how I feel for him.
I equate the feeling with listening to the song Little Wonders by Rob Thomas. It’s beautiful.
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
Clueless
Life is one tricky old game. I guess, if I were an irreverent atheist, it would be so aesy to make fun of God and say that He is one wicked game master who wanted to play with creatures and test certain theories. Or He could one really lackwit mad scientist who wanted to prove his theories.
Whatever we say, life really sucks.
And there is no life on earth which sucks as much as mine does.
I have been a part of an ugly conspiracy which I am asking God now not to let blow on my face since I have learned my lessons and would unlikely forget them for the rest of my life.
In fact, here is a summary of the things I learned from my ugly experience. Maybe, someday, I can frankly tralk it all out.
I know that at this ppoint, I am one of the villains in the story and gee, I believe I would rather be the abused one, the battered heroine, the conspired against idiot than the evil doer.
First, I learned the importance of really getting to know yourself. Knowing what you can and cannot do will help you make the right decisions and choices. This experience taught me a lot about myself. I may leave this part of my journey smiling but deep inside are the indelible marks of my journey with my learners. Deep inside is the knowledge that the actual journey is not yet finished and the marathon must keep on.
Second, I learned that one must be careful in accepting responsibilities. And, once a responsibility has been accepted, one must not think of what one can get from the duty. It is enough to know that you keep your end of the bargain. Doing less would give you sleepless nights and a very bothersome conscience.
Third, I realized that money is the least important motivation of all (in my case that is). It never works to measure all you do as a way of earning money. This may sound really impractical but, it is more important that you get an internal drive to finish what you have started, an emotional investment to do your part with the best that you can and a sense that what you are doing is right because you heart agrees with you.
A clean heart, a quiet mind and a peaceful soul is the most important reward of all.
********************
I have learned to give allowances to the mistakes that other people makes. They are only as human as I am and are therefore just as privileged to be given second chances.
Yes, most of the my learners have committed grave moistakes and made choices which pulled them to inevitable difficulties. I used to be so impatient about these matters. However, coming into contact with them regularly made me realize that they did not know they had a choice.
My forays into the world of my learners taught me to always remind my students in the formal school system to be aware that in life, they have choices and options that they should always consider. Forearmed is forewarned.
I now make it a point to show everyone that there is always this way and other ways and that the choices they make in the present would determine the direction of their future.
******************
Whatever we say, life really sucks.
And there is no life on earth which sucks as much as mine does.
I have been a part of an ugly conspiracy which I am asking God now not to let blow on my face since I have learned my lessons and would unlikely forget them for the rest of my life.
In fact, here is a summary of the things I learned from my ugly experience. Maybe, someday, I can frankly tralk it all out.
I know that at this ppoint, I am one of the villains in the story and gee, I believe I would rather be the abused one, the battered heroine, the conspired against idiot than the evil doer.
First, I learned the importance of really getting to know yourself. Knowing what you can and cannot do will help you make the right decisions and choices. This experience taught me a lot about myself. I may leave this part of my journey smiling but deep inside are the indelible marks of my journey with my learners. Deep inside is the knowledge that the actual journey is not yet finished and the marathon must keep on.
Second, I learned that one must be careful in accepting responsibilities. And, once a responsibility has been accepted, one must not think of what one can get from the duty. It is enough to know that you keep your end of the bargain. Doing less would give you sleepless nights and a very bothersome conscience.
Third, I realized that money is the least important motivation of all (in my case that is). It never works to measure all you do as a way of earning money. This may sound really impractical but, it is more important that you get an internal drive to finish what you have started, an emotional investment to do your part with the best that you can and a sense that what you are doing is right because you heart agrees with you.
A clean heart, a quiet mind and a peaceful soul is the most important reward of all.
********************
I have learned to give allowances to the mistakes that other people makes. They are only as human as I am and are therefore just as privileged to be given second chances.
Yes, most of the my learners have committed grave moistakes and made choices which pulled them to inevitable difficulties. I used to be so impatient about these matters. However, coming into contact with them regularly made me realize that they did not know they had a choice.
My forays into the world of my learners taught me to always remind my students in the formal school system to be aware that in life, they have choices and options that they should always consider. Forearmed is forewarned.
I now make it a point to show everyone that there is always this way and other ways and that the choices they make in the present would determine the direction of their future.
******************
Monday, March 16, 2009
HAHA-Land
WARNING: The title is absolutely not related to the content of this post.
My sister is overly fond of Demi Lovato’s Lalaland and I guess this sort of influenced the title of the post. I just wanted to write some blah blah land online and note down Demi’s song and my sister’s addiction to her.
Oh, I like Demi, her overly wide mouth, innocent big, big eyes and her voice. Yep. I like the girl, a lot, but not to the point of spending almost all my time trying to watch all her video’s on youtube.
Yes. My sister is a crazy girl. Hehe. She’s been speaking, walking, dancing and singing-Demi most of the time.
And the youngest girl at home? Well, the little monster okay.
And that is what I wanted to talk about in this post. My sisters. My beloved, beautiful younger sisters who made my life a living hell and heaven here on earth.
I have two younger sisters. They, to my mother’s standards, are pretty girls with nice, trim bodies and definitely normal attitudes about life.
Or so everyone who do not know them as well as I do would say.
Mary Verne (whom we fondly call as Gigie and Kakak when she was younger), was the hyperactive little hellion who loves all the normal pleasures and pressures of a typical teener.
She turned twenty last January and has yet to graduate from college. Why? Nanay made her stop on her first semester because she went out very late one night and was not able to come home. She said she slept in her bestfriend’s home since she missed the last bus homebound.
There is nothing wrong with this Demi-lover sister of mine. She is definitely nice, outgoing and a little bit too naïve for her own good.
Nanay was afraid that her classmates would take advantage of her naivety and that she would just end up pregnant and miserable. She also had a boyfriend that time so Nanay did not trust her.
So all the while she took a long leave of absence from school, we tried to drill the essence of keeping herself free from any encumbrances of a romantic nature.
In fact, before nanay agreed to send her back to school next year, she made my sister promise to turn over her cellphone and not involve herself in any romantic entanglements until her graduation.
She did make her promise and is now quite busy texting her friends all the time because she said she would miss them in the years to come.
Nanay’s rules were very simple. If she wants to go to school, she is not allowed to have a boyfriend. If boys are interested, the y should court her at home but she is not allowed to give in to any of them. Dating is absolutely out of the question and if she gets any failing grade, she would have to bid college goodbye and prepare herself for a lifetime of drudgery under my mothers tutelage.
What a cruel faith. We are trying to bring back her interest on her arts and away from texting so that she would have something to turn to if worse comes to worst.
Then, there is April Roxanne Miracle, the little girl who nearly died when she was a baby.
Nene, in school, seems like a typical Filipina made who can not break a glass. She is very quiet (in school), self-effacing, humble and slow to anger.
But she is not like that at home.
No.
At home, Nene is the boss, the master. She takes care of most of the houseworks (she is a neat little thing with an obsessive-compulsive drive to always keep the house clean). She does not want anyone messing with her arrangements.
She is typically temperamental at home and would scream and shout the house down if anyone iinterferes with her work.
She is very bull-headed and everyone is sort of afraid of her. She has a sharp tongue and lashes out at the least provocation.
Nobody is allowed to rest until she says. No one watches TV until her Killerbee top 30 has finished airing on Sundays and no one is allowed to turn off the radio if she is cleaning up the entire house.
If she turns up nice and sweet and talks to you in a gentle voice, beware, she would ask a favor from you.
But, Nene and Gigie are really nice sisters. They made things easy for me. Gigie always washes my clothes and massages my back (yes, I am spoiled too) and nene always covers up for any household chores that I fail to do.
Gigie has had many boyfriends but only two are legal and only one has visited our home. Her boyfriends could not abide her because gigie is not allowed to leave home at all, unless there is some errand she had to run.
Nene has never had any boyfriend but has received announcements of affection and letters from someone or other.
The first time a boy held her hand, she ran to our father crying. And Nanay had to hunt down the boy and make him apologize to my sister.
Whatever and whoever they are, I love them all. My life would be dull and boring and difficult without them.
My sister is overly fond of Demi Lovato’s Lalaland and I guess this sort of influenced the title of the post. I just wanted to write some blah blah land online and note down Demi’s song and my sister’s addiction to her.
Oh, I like Demi, her overly wide mouth, innocent big, big eyes and her voice. Yep. I like the girl, a lot, but not to the point of spending almost all my time trying to watch all her video’s on youtube.
Yes. My sister is a crazy girl. Hehe. She’s been speaking, walking, dancing and singing-Demi most of the time.
And the youngest girl at home? Well, the little monster okay.
And that is what I wanted to talk about in this post. My sisters. My beloved, beautiful younger sisters who made my life a living hell and heaven here on earth.
I have two younger sisters. They, to my mother’s standards, are pretty girls with nice, trim bodies and definitely normal attitudes about life.
Or so everyone who do not know them as well as I do would say.
Mary Verne (whom we fondly call as Gigie and Kakak when she was younger), was the hyperactive little hellion who loves all the normal pleasures and pressures of a typical teener.
She turned twenty last January and has yet to graduate from college. Why? Nanay made her stop on her first semester because she went out very late one night and was not able to come home. She said she slept in her bestfriend’s home since she missed the last bus homebound.
There is nothing wrong with this Demi-lover sister of mine. She is definitely nice, outgoing and a little bit too naïve for her own good.
Nanay was afraid that her classmates would take advantage of her naivety and that she would just end up pregnant and miserable. She also had a boyfriend that time so Nanay did not trust her.
So all the while she took a long leave of absence from school, we tried to drill the essence of keeping herself free from any encumbrances of a romantic nature.
In fact, before nanay agreed to send her back to school next year, she made my sister promise to turn over her cellphone and not involve herself in any romantic entanglements until her graduation.
She did make her promise and is now quite busy texting her friends all the time because she said she would miss them in the years to come.
Nanay’s rules were very simple. If she wants to go to school, she is not allowed to have a boyfriend. If boys are interested, the y should court her at home but she is not allowed to give in to any of them. Dating is absolutely out of the question and if she gets any failing grade, she would have to bid college goodbye and prepare herself for a lifetime of drudgery under my mothers tutelage.
What a cruel faith. We are trying to bring back her interest on her arts and away from texting so that she would have something to turn to if worse comes to worst.
Then, there is April Roxanne Miracle, the little girl who nearly died when she was a baby.
Nene, in school, seems like a typical Filipina made who can not break a glass. She is very quiet (in school), self-effacing, humble and slow to anger.
But she is not like that at home.
No.
At home, Nene is the boss, the master. She takes care of most of the houseworks (she is a neat little thing with an obsessive-compulsive drive to always keep the house clean). She does not want anyone messing with her arrangements.
She is typically temperamental at home and would scream and shout the house down if anyone iinterferes with her work.
She is very bull-headed and everyone is sort of afraid of her. She has a sharp tongue and lashes out at the least provocation.
Nobody is allowed to rest until she says. No one watches TV until her Killerbee top 30 has finished airing on Sundays and no one is allowed to turn off the radio if she is cleaning up the entire house.
If she turns up nice and sweet and talks to you in a gentle voice, beware, she would ask a favor from you.
But, Nene and Gigie are really nice sisters. They made things easy for me. Gigie always washes my clothes and massages my back (yes, I am spoiled too) and nene always covers up for any household chores that I fail to do.
Gigie has had many boyfriends but only two are legal and only one has visited our home. Her boyfriends could not abide her because gigie is not allowed to leave home at all, unless there is some errand she had to run.
Nene has never had any boyfriend but has received announcements of affection and letters from someone or other.
The first time a boy held her hand, she ran to our father crying. And Nanay had to hunt down the boy and make him apologize to my sister.
Whatever and whoever they are, I love them all. My life would be dull and boring and difficult without them.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
What I Wanted and Several Disjointed Thoughts
We would like to express our outmost and heartfelt gratitude to the selfless assistance that everybody has extended to us to make this venture possible. To the Passi City Local Government for lending the ordinances, to our donors for the inherent charity, to the teachers for their valuable advice and cooperation and most of all, to God for, guiding and lighting our way. May Your will be done and may we be purveyors of Your wisdom.
Every small job, if done well, means a lot.
- from Bee Movie
This is what I wanted to post on a programme I was preparing for a school activity.
Oh, yes. I do know I sound pretentious. When my supervisor read it, I was almost sure he cringed at what I wrote. Well, the worldly me did squirm.
I mean, it was so coreless and so lame and so unliterary. I was trying to overwhelm my readers with hair-raising, nerve-wracking and spine-tingling adjectives. Yeah, definitely ewe material.
I can’t help it, eh.
Somehow, I wanted to offer all the work I did for this program to God because He made it all possible and I wanted to make it more meaningful. I also wanted to do something for Him because He gave everything to me.
(Sigh) I shouldn’t have gone into teaching. I mean, teaching is fine but the monetary value that the government gives to all the works I do everyday of my life confounds the entire issue about this mission thing.
When I was in college, I did see teaching as a lifetime mission. Something I would do not because of the money it entails but because of what I could give and share to others.
But, when your on the job, everything gets distorted.
My D’Club babies were muttering about all the things they have to do for class.
I wanted to laugh. Hehe. (I laughed!)
That is not yet the tip of the iceberg guys. You are only seeing the tippest top of the tip. (Whatever that means).
When you get to college, things will get more difficult (but more fun especially if you were able to pick a college tailor-made to your needs and your personality). When you graduate (if you do graduate, that is), things will go downhill steadily (unless you jump down a ten-storey building first).
A job is not exactly what other people color it to be. The real world is a bitter place to live in. Because by the time you leave college, your parents will no longer be obliged to protect you from the harsher realities of life and living.
And there is no one to turn to.
No one except God.
I know how it feels to be abandoned and to be ignored and to be embarrassed. I know how it feels to fail, to lose hope in someone, to be disillusioned and to be let down by the people you expect to lift you up.
I also know how it feels to be hated, be misunderstood, be blamed. I almost went crazy once because of severe disillusionments. I contemplated suicide several times (not good and definitely not advisable) just to get even with the people who let you down never really realizing that you are committing the most sacrilegious act of all-letting yourself down.
I know how success felt, how triumph tasted, and how to be on the edge of a cliff with your fingers almost touching the balloon of your dreams only to feel a soft wind blow it away from you just when you loose your footing and down you go.
But all throughout those dark and ugly days of my life, God was there. Blessing me daily. Never letting my hand go.
Did I fell from the cliff trying to reach my dreams? No. Down I went but his strong hold on me held me back. Back into the haven of His arms, His protection, his unconditional love.
God’s love is unconditional. He is always there and He never lives you. He does not just lay in wait to get your next salary and disappear when You need Him most. He shares your darkest hours, allows you to run loose awhile to give you time to realize that your pursuits are actually pointless without Him.
Success has always left me feeling empty and hollow. Unfulfilled.
Now, I know why that is so.
I felt hollow because I only succeeded in terms of the worlds standards but I did not reached Gods higher plane and definition of success.
What I do for the club is a response for the worldly need to be loved and accepted. That is why when I did not feel loved and accepted, when the craving was not satiated, I felt dispirited. Now, the drive is different.
I want to offer everything I do to God… whatever it is. My teaching, my debating club works, ALS, my everyday work.
I feel the longing to do something for God not because He needs me to do something for him. Not even because I have to, to make Him love me. Whatever I do or not do, He would love me and that would never change.
But, I wanted to do it because I want to show Him I love Him too.
That is why I am contemplating becoming a nun.
Several teachers made the comment that I just might qualify for it. Even my own mother made derisive remarks about my nunnish tendencies. I can’t blame being reticent, reserved and nun-like. Yes, I like wearing long skirts, what is wrong with that. I also wear pants anyway.
Yes, I like being covered from head to foot, so what? I just don’t see myself as a cheap commodity for everybody’s consumption (but being fat makes clothes selection difficult). I like staying at home… going out is expensive and I have compulsive buying tendencies. I never had a boyfriend. So? I read pocketbooks, romance novels with scintillating sex scenes and several erotica (yup, several by Ann Rice, actually, though I would love to collect Anais Nin’s work). I even have a membership in a black forum which has a portion for rated literature (it had an ugly effect on my senses, honestly).
By the way, reading porno lit from that forum made me realize how sin can actually affect ones relationship with God. It makes you feel that you have sinned and thus is not worthy to come in contact with anything holy, thus creating the distance between you and God.
It was an ugly existence and every time I am tempted to open my porno vault (I still have them, hehe) I beg God to help me, to never let me go.
I have just renewed my relationship with Him and the world makes it difficult to do keep it. I love God. I do not want to hurt Him but I know I hurt Him everytime I succumb to the temptation to open my P vault, scream at my siblings, hate my mother, backstab some friends, hate myself, and indulge in suicidal fantasies…
Yes. The world makes Godly contact difficult with UFO issues, evolutionism, hedonism, materialism, the internet, CD’s and DVD’s . Now, I understand why they are called the tools of the devil.
Every small job, if done well, means a lot.
- from Bee Movie
This is what I wanted to post on a programme I was preparing for a school activity.
Oh, yes. I do know I sound pretentious. When my supervisor read it, I was almost sure he cringed at what I wrote. Well, the worldly me did squirm.
I mean, it was so coreless and so lame and so unliterary. I was trying to overwhelm my readers with hair-raising, nerve-wracking and spine-tingling adjectives. Yeah, definitely ewe material.
I can’t help it, eh.
Somehow, I wanted to offer all the work I did for this program to God because He made it all possible and I wanted to make it more meaningful. I also wanted to do something for Him because He gave everything to me.
(Sigh) I shouldn’t have gone into teaching. I mean, teaching is fine but the monetary value that the government gives to all the works I do everyday of my life confounds the entire issue about this mission thing.
When I was in college, I did see teaching as a lifetime mission. Something I would do not because of the money it entails but because of what I could give and share to others.
But, when your on the job, everything gets distorted.
My D’Club babies were muttering about all the things they have to do for class.
I wanted to laugh. Hehe. (I laughed!)
That is not yet the tip of the iceberg guys. You are only seeing the tippest top of the tip. (Whatever that means).
When you get to college, things will get more difficult (but more fun especially if you were able to pick a college tailor-made to your needs and your personality). When you graduate (if you do graduate, that is), things will go downhill steadily (unless you jump down a ten-storey building first).
A job is not exactly what other people color it to be. The real world is a bitter place to live in. Because by the time you leave college, your parents will no longer be obliged to protect you from the harsher realities of life and living.
And there is no one to turn to.
No one except God.
I know how it feels to be abandoned and to be ignored and to be embarrassed. I know how it feels to fail, to lose hope in someone, to be disillusioned and to be let down by the people you expect to lift you up.
I also know how it feels to be hated, be misunderstood, be blamed. I almost went crazy once because of severe disillusionments. I contemplated suicide several times (not good and definitely not advisable) just to get even with the people who let you down never really realizing that you are committing the most sacrilegious act of all-letting yourself down.
I know how success felt, how triumph tasted, and how to be on the edge of a cliff with your fingers almost touching the balloon of your dreams only to feel a soft wind blow it away from you just when you loose your footing and down you go.
But all throughout those dark and ugly days of my life, God was there. Blessing me daily. Never letting my hand go.
Did I fell from the cliff trying to reach my dreams? No. Down I went but his strong hold on me held me back. Back into the haven of His arms, His protection, his unconditional love.
God’s love is unconditional. He is always there and He never lives you. He does not just lay in wait to get your next salary and disappear when You need Him most. He shares your darkest hours, allows you to run loose awhile to give you time to realize that your pursuits are actually pointless without Him.
Success has always left me feeling empty and hollow. Unfulfilled.
Now, I know why that is so.
I felt hollow because I only succeeded in terms of the worlds standards but I did not reached Gods higher plane and definition of success.
What I do for the club is a response for the worldly need to be loved and accepted. That is why when I did not feel loved and accepted, when the craving was not satiated, I felt dispirited. Now, the drive is different.
I want to offer everything I do to God… whatever it is. My teaching, my debating club works, ALS, my everyday work.
I feel the longing to do something for God not because He needs me to do something for him. Not even because I have to, to make Him love me. Whatever I do or not do, He would love me and that would never change.
But, I wanted to do it because I want to show Him I love Him too.
That is why I am contemplating becoming a nun.
Several teachers made the comment that I just might qualify for it. Even my own mother made derisive remarks about my nunnish tendencies. I can’t blame being reticent, reserved and nun-like. Yes, I like wearing long skirts, what is wrong with that. I also wear pants anyway.
Yes, I like being covered from head to foot, so what? I just don’t see myself as a cheap commodity for everybody’s consumption (but being fat makes clothes selection difficult). I like staying at home… going out is expensive and I have compulsive buying tendencies. I never had a boyfriend. So? I read pocketbooks, romance novels with scintillating sex scenes and several erotica (yup, several by Ann Rice, actually, though I would love to collect Anais Nin’s work). I even have a membership in a black forum which has a portion for rated literature (it had an ugly effect on my senses, honestly).
By the way, reading porno lit from that forum made me realize how sin can actually affect ones relationship with God. It makes you feel that you have sinned and thus is not worthy to come in contact with anything holy, thus creating the distance between you and God.
It was an ugly existence and every time I am tempted to open my porno vault (I still have them, hehe) I beg God to help me, to never let me go.
I have just renewed my relationship with Him and the world makes it difficult to do keep it. I love God. I do not want to hurt Him but I know I hurt Him everytime I succumb to the temptation to open my P vault, scream at my siblings, hate my mother, backstab some friends, hate myself, and indulge in suicidal fantasies…
Yes. The world makes Godly contact difficult with UFO issues, evolutionism, hedonism, materialism, the internet, CD’s and DVD’s . Now, I understand why they are called the tools of the devil.
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Ang Mga Lalaki Sa Akon Pinsar
| Warning: The Writer is in a pensive mood and is determined to bore everyone to death. In real life, I have never had a boyfriend. Sa real, life e. But, in my other life (yes, darling I have one), I have several. You wanna get to know them? Sure. Guys, meet my men. Tadaa. Cyril Nuevo He is the boy I dreamed about when I was in grade 4. Of course, he does not exist but, he has a name. He introduced himself to me in that dream. Cute, no? I do not know any guy by that name, you see, and he probably does not exist but, has anyone ever dreamed of someone they do not know tapos nagpakilala pa? Benjamin Alegre I made him up when I was in second year college. Why? Nahisa ko sa mga classmates ko. He is the handsomest imaginary man I ever created, hehe. He wears cashmeres and jeans and has longish hair. I patterned him after the tainted prince (tong gay musician bala). Gabriel whatever It used to be my favorite name so I used it for my imaginary boyfriend. Sa kabaliwan ko, I even wrote him letters which I still hide in my secret aparadors. I even introduced him to a classmate (I was in third year college then, buangit guid no?) His appearance was inspired by a stationary picture I once bought. Now, I hate the name. why? Because, he is someone I hate, hate hate. (The kind of hate that makes you think of sneaking inside the hated persons room, tying him down with a rope and stripping his flesh piece by piece. Tapos, isawsaw sa langgaw kag asin. (Die, demon die.) Peter Abelard This one is new. When I become a published writer, I would like to make use of Heloise Abelard as a pseudonym. Then, I would write grateful messages to Peter, hehe. Peter Abelard is a medieval philosopher and was Heloise’s tutor. He eventually became Heloise’s lover and Heloise’s uncle had him castrated because of that (cute no, I mean, crude gle). The Nameless I tried inventing a name for him but this creature from the whateversphere he came from is undefinable. I cannot give him a name because to give him one is to limit him and this guy is just limitless. Who is he? He came into my life in an unexpected manner. I just opened one of the windows para mag-sightseeing then popped in this guy and I thought, whoa! He exists. Imagine my shock! I am still shock until now. He does not exist in my real world. He is one of my other men, the men in this parallel universe I lived in. But, I think it is enough to know nga at least, ga-exist guid man si Toto. Sorry sa kabuangan. Indi lang guid mapunggan. Siguro, next time, hopefully mainitindihan guid man. |
Friday, January 30, 2009
My Men List
Written on a Friday morning when I am supposed to be in school but was held home because of a typical Leo problem: stomach ache
When I checked my Drive C space and found out I only have 3.93 GB disk space left, I panicked.
I may not know anything about computers (I honestly don’t), but I know I do not want my files to consume such diskspace.
So, I unlocked my secret chambers and decided to purged out unnecessary materials.
It was then that I came across My Men List. I believe I made this one three months ago.
Do you want to know what is written in there? Sure, have a peek.
My Men List
ü Mario Cimarro - striking facial features, long, curly hair (always the hairs), great body structure Flaw: he appears superficial
ü JMP (huh?)- an old crush in elementary. Very handsome in a sensually exotic manner, nice voice (tingles the spine), sharp brains, loves his nephew (I can see that) Flaw: he is almost married but has not finished college. A useless prospect
ü MP (the charcoal)-the crush to whom I promised to slim down. He just laughed. The tall, dark and handsome type. Flaw- he belonged in the lower section and has probably not finished highschool…and he made me cry
ü Dr. Jose Rizal- he is a genius in every aspect, a man of the world. Flaw: too many women, too self-conscious and egocentric
ü Joe Jonas (of the Jonas Brothers)-nice, bushy winged brows, kissable red lips and patrician nose plus fascinating voice and movement Flaw: he is too much in the spotlight
ü Prince William Arthur Philip Loius Mountbatten-Windsor (who again?)-childhood fancy prince, rich and privileged background plus fame and fortune (nothing more, all mercenary interest) Flaw: he has changed
ü Sir D. (the nutty professor, sa West)-intelligence and confidence plus similarity of interests Flaw: conceited and arrogant
ü The frustrated USC chair -principled campaign, upfront, and intelligence, it’s the attitude man! Flaw : too clinical, cold calculating and ruthless
ü The Global Man (the ultimate artist)-sense of humor, musical taste, and artistic bent Flaw: not too intelligent
ü Same Sounding Name (the student, sa West)-personality, attitude and beliefs even at a young age Flaw: Suplado
ü The Weird Wonder – similarity of interests, confidence and ease in communicating with others. Sense of humor, fun person, personality thing again Flaw: He is just a baby
ü Mr. Unexpected ( the late blooming crush) – artist also, intelligent, good communicator, understanding friend, nice companion, nice job now, nice family background Flaw: obsessed with an old childhood crush, has a girlfriend, a seafarer (don’t like them a lot)
ü JRP (first real crush) – nice face, cute smile, friendly, he just makes my heart beat too fast Flaw: he drinks a lot
ü JSP (the King) – tall, handsome, okay in the looks department , pedigreed background Flaw: he works as a clerk and lives in his sister’s place, not much of a recommendation
ü The Gay Vampire (the musician) – great voice, nice, wavy hair, nice body (he’s balanced), tall, good communication skills, sense of humor Flaw: he is gay
I mentioned gay vampire in tainted prince.
ü Heath Ledger (Cassanova)-delicious person. Great role and… just perfect Flaw: he is dead
ü My Dream Guy-musical, a philosopher, sweet, nice, romantic, great communicator, understanding, tall, big and bear like , God-centered, loves reading and studies. Someone like me in a way Flaw: he doesn’t exist
Oh, well. I know it always comes down to this. But, since I intend to fully remove this from my hard drive (purge the insignificant, cleanse the infected hehe…kanugon sang space bi), I decided to publish this short bit of kaengotan for posterity’s sake.
Who knows, I might be just like Rizal some day and people would want to know my everyday thoughts and the men I fancied (hehe). I mean, I wouldn’t want to give my researchers a hard time as Rizal did. Thank God for blogs.
And yes, those persons existed. Proof? They have flaws.
When I checked my Drive C space and found out I only have 3.93 GB disk space left, I panicked.
I may not know anything about computers (I honestly don’t), but I know I do not want my files to consume such diskspace.
So, I unlocked my secret chambers and decided to purged out unnecessary materials.
It was then that I came across My Men List. I believe I made this one three months ago.
Do you want to know what is written in there? Sure, have a peek.
My Men List
ü Mario Cimarro - striking facial features, long, curly hair (always the hairs), great body structure Flaw: he appears superficial
ü JMP (huh?)- an old crush in elementary. Very handsome in a sensually exotic manner, nice voice (tingles the spine), sharp brains, loves his nephew (I can see that) Flaw: he is almost married but has not finished college. A useless prospect
ü MP (the charcoal)-the crush to whom I promised to slim down. He just laughed. The tall, dark and handsome type. Flaw- he belonged in the lower section and has probably not finished highschool…and he made me cry
ü Dr. Jose Rizal- he is a genius in every aspect, a man of the world. Flaw: too many women, too self-conscious and egocentric
ü Joe Jonas (of the Jonas Brothers)-nice, bushy winged brows, kissable red lips and patrician nose plus fascinating voice and movement Flaw: he is too much in the spotlight
ü Prince William Arthur Philip Loius Mountbatten-Windsor (who again?)-childhood fancy prince, rich and privileged background plus fame and fortune (nothing more, all mercenary interest) Flaw: he has changed
ü Sir D. (the nutty professor, sa West)-intelligence and confidence plus similarity of interests Flaw: conceited and arrogant
ü The frustrated USC chair -principled campaign, upfront, and intelligence, it’s the attitude man! Flaw : too clinical, cold calculating and ruthless
ü The Global Man (the ultimate artist)-sense of humor, musical taste, and artistic bent Flaw: not too intelligent
ü Same Sounding Name (the student, sa West)-personality, attitude and beliefs even at a young age Flaw: Suplado
ü The Weird Wonder – similarity of interests, confidence and ease in communicating with others. Sense of humor, fun person, personality thing again Flaw: He is just a baby
ü Mr. Unexpected ( the late blooming crush) – artist also, intelligent, good communicator, understanding friend, nice companion, nice job now, nice family background Flaw: obsessed with an old childhood crush, has a girlfriend, a seafarer (don’t like them a lot)
ü JRP (first real crush) – nice face, cute smile, friendly, he just makes my heart beat too fast Flaw: he drinks a lot
ü JSP (the King) – tall, handsome, okay in the looks department , pedigreed background Flaw: he works as a clerk and lives in his sister’s place, not much of a recommendation
ü The Gay Vampire (the musician) – great voice, nice, wavy hair, nice body (he’s balanced), tall, good communication skills, sense of humor Flaw: he is gay
I mentioned gay vampire in tainted prince.
ü Heath Ledger (Cassanova)-delicious person. Great role and… just perfect Flaw: he is dead
ü My Dream Guy-musical, a philosopher, sweet, nice, romantic, great communicator, understanding, tall, big and bear like , God-centered, loves reading and studies. Someone like me in a way Flaw: he doesn’t exist
Oh, well. I know it always comes down to this. But, since I intend to fully remove this from my hard drive (purge the insignificant, cleanse the infected hehe…kanugon sang space bi), I decided to publish this short bit of kaengotan for posterity’s sake.
Who knows, I might be just like Rizal some day and people would want to know my everyday thoughts and the men I fancied (hehe). I mean, I wouldn’t want to give my researchers a hard time as Rizal did. Thank God for blogs.
And yes, those persons existed. Proof? They have flaws.
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