chopseuy

**for some reason i can't stop looking. seriously. it has to stop. it's getting a bit annoying already. no details here//

**i love the idea of tattoos. i was never good with changes so i like the idea of its permanence. i have been thinking of getting one on my wrist--something poetic or grand. the kind which i can tell a cool story about. but then i always hear stories about people thinking too much of what tatoo they'll gonna get and end up with idiotic stuffs inked on their bodies.

**it is chilly once again in this part of the country. i don't know, but the cold does something on people. just a couple of days ago, after too much gin, something amoral happened. to say the least, i was just a spectator, thank god. i suddenly questioned people's morality and how casual can casual get? i am trying my best here not to dive into details.

**it is funny how other people tend to complicate the meaning of love. i know someone who likes this someone but this someone has someone but is very, very, very far away. the someone i know is sooo afraid to take a risk for the someone she likes (which i think kinda likes her as well) because of his someone. i know, it's complicated like that. but really, if we are not going to take risks for anything, we would live our lives always thinking 'what if'. but this is not me talking.

**i am up at 12mn, because work got my body clock all messed up. i live in 4 different time zones, and talking about shifts is as painful as counting hours backwards all the time. Example:
Me: Do we have work on the 25th?
Officemate: None.
Me: Alrighty!
Officemate: Wait, are we talking Manila time or production time?
Me: *puzzled* I have a 12mn shift Mla time, so how is that?
Officemate: Oh you do have work.
Me: But isn't that considered as the 25th already?
Officemate: Yeah, but technically that is 24 production.
Me: I hate you.

**lately, i have been paying bills for the house, shopping for food (in the market as well!), and giving money to anyone and everyone who needs them. i can't believe how grown up that sounded. i was particularly surprised at my selflessness. but i still have to learn how to budget my money.

**how come i am sooo kilig with twilight? it's so stupid yet so kilig. i don't know why they already love each other beyond accounting after they sat next in biology class? or how they want to get married after one date? or how bella would want to give up everything after just one kiss? and somehow, i don't believe edward when he said "you have no idea how long i've waited for you'. seriously, 100 years and no woman? not even one? sige na nga!

**i know i said i'm going to write every week, but internet has been down for almost a month we just got it running.

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stoopid

with regularization @ work coming up, i was asked to pen an appraisal for my self by my supervisor. i was staring blankly at the monitor and couldn't get to write anything for a full three minutes. i had her open up a sample appraisal from a newly regularized employee and that's the only time i had started writing.

scary thing to happen, as i have always been a writer my whole life. i quickly messaged my friend and told her 'dude, i was asked to write something a while ago and my mind was totally blank! scary shit!' then she replied 'my friend, your job is keeping you stupid. read an effing book for crying out loud!'

when did i ran out of things to say? or write? is the corporate world eating me alive?

so now i vow to write at least once a week on this blog. because god knows i'm too lazy to do it more than that. so once is enough.

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so 90s!

OMG I want to go to the Michael Learns to Rock concert here in Baguio on the 21st of November! All Baguio peeps, text me, let's go! It's so jologs I know but I know all their songs! Ack!

Lezzzz gooooo!

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wow, i can't drink anymore

because my mother insisted i do a full work out while doing my stint at the hospital, i learned i have a fatty liver. so now my alcohol consumption for the last three weeks has been next to nothing. ryan, a very good friend, celebrated his birthday last saturday and when we went out for drinks, i ordered shirley temple. i was like 'damn, i'm now reduced to shirley fucking temple.'

then, as sort of an epiphany, i remembered that shirley temples on this side of the world uses sodas in exchange of the ginger ale (in this case, sprite). and because they have also found out i have ulcers in my stomach, carbonated drinks were a no-no as well. i didn't dare finish the rest of my drink. now you know how sucky my life is.

so, my advice, dear readers, is that never go on an executive check up if you still want the finer things in life. because if you do, you will be reduced to... well... drinking water for the rest of your life.

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prayer works

while i was confined in the hospital seeking treatment for my acute gastroenetritis, my mother suggested i get another pelvic ultrasound to check if the cyst discovered in my left ovary last january was still there.

the sonogram proved the cyst was nowhere to be found. i guess hormone therapies and prayers do work.

thank you, Lord.

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weddings and KC concepcion

when you get invited to weddings and baptisms often than debuts lately, you know it's all downhill from there. a college org mate got hitched last saturday and i almost wasn't able to attend simply because i forgot about it. the moment i remembered, there was no time to change my clothes and embarrassingly attended the formal/semi-formal ceremony wearing chuck taylors and wide legged jeans.

my favorite part of any wedding is the part where the parents make their speeches. the father of the bride, on the brink of tears, was telling about the sign that convinced him that his first born was already ready to start a new life without them. he said in the months preceding the wedding, he unconsciously suddenly started waking up later than usual so this prompted the daughter to wake up early and prepare breakfast for the family. in one occasion, he happen to secretly watch her prepare the meal and just felt sad because he knew right then, by instinct alone, that her little baby girl was ready to have a family of her own. and true enough, in less than a month, the wedding was underway.

makes me think what kind of story my father or mother would say on my wedding day. because statistically, the bride's parents' get to have the drama speech. have you been to a wedding wherein the groom's parents' cried because they were letting go of their son? i don't think so. most of the time if not all of the time, the father of the bride becomes emotional because generally, fathers couldn't handle the fact that their daughters have grown up.

speaking of crying buckets of tears, i have watched KC concepcion and richard gutierrez's first movie together on the second day it showed (aug 29 i believe) and all i can say is WHY IS THAT WHEN KC CRIES HER WHOLE FUCKIN FACE GETS WET? her neck and hair even! somebody please tell the poor kid the difference between theater acting and movie acting. so much expression on her face, which didn't go well with the close-ups.

the movie wasn't all that it was hyped to be. actually, that was just about it: a hype. my workmates and i were actually surprised to learn that only one SM cinema showed the movie, and on the second day there weren't anymore long queues. in fact, there wasn't any queue in the coming days! most probably, word got out that the movie wasn't as good as expected?

seriously. the movie was so dragging and heavy. i wanted to kill the person behind the story and the script. and phillip salvador dancing at the end of the movie? what the fuck was that about? the only good thing about the movie: ang gwapo ni richard, putang-ina. that's all. i think a very special love top billed by john lloyd cruz and newcomer sarah geronimo was way better. and did better on the box office, i was told.

KC should've just waited for a better script. i heard that she is doing another film under GMA Films this time, rumored to be directed and written by jose javier reyes? if this is another romance/drama movie, i better not see KC drowning in her own tears.

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casual tears

i found this somewhere off the internet while at work:

Arundhati was with a friend, and they were discussing the subject of dreams. "The only dream worth having," Roy explained, "is to dream that you will live while you’re alive and die only when you are dead." "What exactly does that mean?" asked the friend.

So Roy wrote it down for her on a napkin:
To love. To be loved. To never forget your own insignificance. To never get used to the unspeakable violence and vulgar disparity of life around you. To seek joy in the saddest places. To pursue beauty to its lair. To never simplify what is complicated or complicate was is simple. To respect strength, never power. Above all, to watch. To try and understand. To never look away. And never, never to forget.

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i cannot sleep

'What do you want to be when you grow up?'

Had you asked me this question 10 years ago, I would've answered to be a doctor or a lawyer.

But right now, all I want is to be happy.

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Do you know who Mark Mejia is?

He was the one who beat current American Idol season favorite David Archuleta during CBS Star Search's Battle of the Champions five years ago. David was 12 and Mark was 10.

Rumor has it that Mark is currently training for next year's American Idol, when he turns 16 since it's the minimum age requirement for the show.

Follow Mark in his YouTube account as he sings infront of his computer, as if telling the whole world that he's ready to be the next big star. After he gets a make-over though. I kid, I kid. :)

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tired and scared

i remember one night we rushed her to the hospital because she said she couldn't breathe. i look at her while she is soundly asleep in a hospital stretcher, alone in the emergency room, and i feel empty. i secretly wanted to tell her it was her fault, quit being overly dramatic about it. i sit there while the nurse get her BP every 15 minutes. i count the seconds lazily passing by, tapping my hands against the cold metal bed only adorned by white linens. she looked pale. for three seconds it looked serious, but all i ever wanted at that moment was to go home and sleep. somehow, she didn't matter. i went outside the hospital and sat alone on a concrete chair. i remember feeling the crisp cold february baguio weather, but i do not remember asking if she felt better. when the doctor finally told she can go home, i felt nothing still.

i remember one afternoon, the doctor told me i had a cyst in my left ovary and that there is a possibility of not being able to bear a little rascal. i distinctly recall looking at my ultrasound, a small white circular thing appeared and my sister beside me looked so very worried. but i didn't flinch. i asked her when can i get my period again. she said we'll try to normalize it. i said okay and left like nothing has happened.

i remember this friend who i had a falling out with. a few months ago, i was desperate in trying to win her friendship back. but now, i couldn't care less. a window of opportunity was opened a few days ago and i didn't even bother peeking at it. i remember how much i miss her and how sorry i was for what happened. but that's just it. a memory. i look at the pictures i have of her and i do not feel anything. i didn't bother to take them down. but they all look like there's an extra person i once knew.

with all of these, i suddenly felt scared. a few days ago while riding in a taxi, i asked myself 'when did i stop caring?' right then i knew i wasn't the same girl anymore.

-update-

oh now i know what i feel. this is static anger. and i don't know how to channel it to sentient anger. wtf, i'm so weird.

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this is how tibak* i was before

*tibak = aktib. (noun) pertaining to a socio-political activist

a poem i made years ago, which was published in our school's literary folio. i wonder what happened to the girl who wrote this? because somehow, somewhere, i was swallowed by conformity.

Idealistic raw ako

maghirap man ako sa kakatayo
magkakalyo man ang mga paa ko
mangitim man ako mula sa sikat ng araw
mabingi man mula sa mga bulyaw

magtitiis ako…

umuwi man akong basag ang ulo
huwag kumain ng isang linggo
matulog man ako sa bilangguan
o tumira sa lansangan kung kinakailangan

magtitiis ako…

pagpatawanan man ng karamihan
at mabansagang kaaway ng bayan
mamalat mula sa kasisigaw
manghina sa sinag ng araw

magtitiis ako…

kung buhay man ang kapalit
o sa bilangguan ay mapiit
lahat ito’y titiisin ko
sa ngalan ng pagbabago

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Whose head should I demand for this?

And she won??!

That's recently crowned Bb. Pilipinas-World Janina San Miguel during the pageant's interview portion. I'm sorry, but if this girl is going to represent the Philippines in an international beauty pageant, I want her F's and P's in place and her subject-verb agreement corrected.

If no amount of training will suffice, for the love of God, provide the girl with an interpreter!

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Dizzizit panzit

I'm currently filling up an application for an exam that has a mortally rate of 99%. Something that may sound like a qualifying test for a MENSA membership, but it's not. It's for a position that a nurse like me has no room for. All my four years of college couldn't have prepared me for this test, but what the heck I'm taking it anyway. And to say it has something to do with the government, now that's the clincher.

So needless to say, I am reviewing again. But now, my nose isn't buried in medical books. My nose is smelling dust from stacked history books and flinching from economic terms so foreign to me. It's learning all over again.

There's also this possibility of working for a private company, but it requires me to have a certain ability I was certain I had before. So I'm rethinking about that.

All of these in between studying for my unscheduled (yet) NCLEX, as my mother badgers me on hours end.

Three different roads. There's no easy way. Especially if your post-surgery mouth cannot stop bleeding. God help me.

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The then

how is one supposed to feel when you lose a beautiful memory? a friend and i have recently parted ideals and found out that our concept of time and waiting are very foreign to each other.

i have very little idea of the metamorphosis. a few exchanges of bitter words, and then giving up. i wasn't sure if i was the one who gave up. i always thought friendship is a very quaint liaison. but i never thought there could be an end of it. i feel like getting a wrench and pounding it on my head, maybe something good will come out of it, save whatever is left of the remains of what once was.

how is one supposed to feel when you lose a beautiful memory? unless somebody reminds you that you did lose it, it's never forgotten. is that the way it goes? or is it it's never even remembered?

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Maybe because of the Lozada factor?

I myself remembered a fundamental truth about courage. Which is that courage is not the absence of fear. It is the presence of fear, often a most crippling one, but a fear that is overcome by a heroic act of will, or by the recognition that one has no choice but to do what is right. That is what Rodolfo Lozada has done.
- Condrado De Quiros

When I was young, my father ran for councilor in a small town where our surname was a household name. My fondest memories are of those when we visit the "barrio" and it would seem like major celebrities just paid them a visit. During that certain election year, I vividly remember parading around our green beat-up Volkswagen and giving out candies and hand-printed flyers. My father had the slogan "Maka-Diyos, Maka-Tao" and it was cool for me back then because it rhymed with our family name. So I kept on shouting it when we do little political soirées at the town plaza.

My father didn't have stickers, large banners and fancy gimmicks. He rode the carabao and went house to house. We were almost certain he would win. My clan owned more than half of the land there, most people were indebted to my Lolo and Lola, and most of all, people liked him because he is sincere and hardworking. But then he lost.

There were talks of cheating, but my father accepted the defeat. He was told to run again in the next election, but he didn't. He never ran ever again. Years later, I would learn that the people my father expected to vote for him were bought by the other inept candidates for a measly P20.00. It was my first taste of how politics can be.

So I think I acquired an unconscious political phobia. In school, I disliked the mere mention of my name in class election nominations. I never voted for myself either. When I win, I sulk then I do a lousy job. I'm so weird. It's the notion that I won because somehow I cheated with having more friends in the classroom, or my mother donating the new curtains, or being the teacher's pet, or simply because most of the kids were afraid of me (I was a big girl afterall). It just stuck on my mind that winning in an election constitutes cheating and we eventually elect inept individuals.

I look at Jun Lozada now, with the people dragged in this controversy and the many controversies before that, and cannot help but to think if I'm right? And because I have too much time on my hands, I was able to watch the senate probe on Lozada's alleged kidnapping. I look at the pool of the senators and some of them ask funny, inappropriate, and almost stupid unrelated questions. I look at the slew of government officers being dragged in controversies one after the other, as if it was another day at the office. I wonder how many of our government officials actually do their work?

School days suddenly remembered. Did we vote for a certain person because he was a friend? He was good-looking? He was an award-winning actor? Paid us P500? Donated curtains?

Looking at the government that we have now, I ask a question: have we failed, then?

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