I'm the type who consumes

I'm the type who consumes

until the feeling that I am complete again

Loves

until the day that I am loved by another

Pleads

until the moment that I rise
and face what must be

Waits

until the time that I can no longer.

Office Girl

I thought I didn't have a life when I was living it without a job. Now, that I've got my self a job I am totally socially awkward and unable to finish anything other than office work.

I hereby declare cyberly that from here on out I officially am without a life.

How do you end a relationship with someone you love?

Fuck.

Quarter-Life Crisis

Tomorrow I start work. Full-time. I am trying to be excited about it but as everyone knows, pretending to be enthusiastic about something isn't my specialty.

Too much bad vibes in my system right now. I am currently hating C and his kupal ways. I still have a lot of shit-slash-work to finish and I'm already starting work tomorrow, it's stressing me out! I need a bottle or two or a smoke. Sucks to be home. :(

Tralalala

Oh you're not flirting? You're being nice? Then watch me being so nice to that hot guy and tell me if I am any good at it, deal?

Doc, something's wrong with me.

I've got personality.

A-ha! I rarely post nowadays. I must be halfway through getting a life.

How far from eureka yet?

Ugh. Creativity, I need you. NOW.

"I'm living so far beyond my income that we may almost be said to be living apart."

- e e cummings

Demet

I HATE EVERYTHING RIGHT NOW. I'm in that stage again when I can't get anything done. Why does this keep coming back? Don't I get to move on and not do this anymore? It's not even a phase. I wish it were. And it isn't PMS. I'm doomed to be like this forever.

No matter what I do, people just keep disappointing me. I have come to realize that there's nothing wrong with the people around me. It's me. I keep expecting.

Pota, I'm a sad, sad breathing thing.

getting tired of this

fun isn't FUN anymore.
looking for something new.

I have nothing better to say

so follow me on tumblr.

what to do, what to do

To be or not to be. That is not really a question. -Jean-Luc Godard

PERO DILEMMA PA RIN S'YA, OKAY?

randomrandomrandom because it's four a.m. and i'm still awake and sabaw

it's all good when i'm not with you. but every time you're near and i get a whiff of your pheromones, i die. it's like getting high minus the risk of going to jail and the respiratory disease. every time you hug me--when you cuddle like a panda and i fit just perfectly in your arms--i am at my weakest, inhaling you like the air in QC (not entirely healthy nor clean, but familiar and comforting).

and on this note, i must say, you are:
*a cigarette on a chilly night
*a good book on a sunday
*a bar of chocolate during PMS
*noodle soup on a rainy day
*a TV marathon on a lazy day
*my mangga and asin-with-sili, NYFD fries, and milkshake ALL-IN-ONE

i love you most when i don't have to try too hard. because i know i do. and it's tiresome and stressful. and when i don't it feels like three in the morning when everything's simple and quiet and the internet connection is at it's fastest. i love you like a hundred thousand times over my DSL speed. i love you even when I hate you. and I hate you a lot. and I don't care how long this would last. i love you because I want to.

my father just asked me for my school records

WHAT WAS THAT ABOUT?!

I am not going back to school next semester. I am going to get a job. I need money! I hate college. What do I need a college degree for?! A career?! You've got to be kidding me. Why would I want that?!

Update: C's getting his own place in QC. Yay!

I hate the south. I want to go back up north! I want my own place in QC too!

I need a home-based job aside from my part-time. I need to save up!

This post contains too many exclamation points. ARRGGGHHHH!!!

i am so tired and PMS-ing right now

there are a lot of jobs out there apparently. but none that you'd like and enjoy and would treat you fairly and pay you your work's worth. fairness is apparently something that's too much to ask. injustice has become normative. nothing's wrong enough.

i'm losing my respect in people.

just stop pretending. you hate your job. you know you do. you hate the claustrophobic environment. you hate the instant coffee. you hate not having to be able to smoke whenever you want. you hate having to make excuses when you are going to be late or absent for work. you want to be able to do what you want. don't be a wuss and just do it, whatever it may be. i mean, seriously, do you really want a career?! come on. so much better things out there. much, much better.

fortunately, there are still some who are brave enough to stand up for what they believe in--with good pay or none. i miss you good people of the world. i wish to join you again soon. once i get myself out of this tangled web.

i am SABAW.

Folding Chair

I've got a perfect body, though sometimes I forget. --Regina Spektor

I got PMS

I envy how some people are so talented/skilled. No fair.

BUSY, BUSY NIGHT

To-Do List for tonight:

1. Eat dinner
2. Brush teeth
3. Wash face (optional)
4. Research
5. Write article
6. Watch a movie
7. Read fiction, preferably in the "fantasy" genre (optional)
8. Look for freelance jobs

The first step to getting a life: making lists.

Mon Omelette Du Fromage

My cheese omelette says:
A little bit of feel good goes a long way.

Yes, I cooked.
Then I was too lazy to eat it.

Job, house, family, social life, headache:
How do grown-ups manage all of these things? They are the most underrated people on earth I believe.

I can't wait to be 40.
20s and 30s are too much pressure.

Today Is Deja Vu Of That Day When I Was

seventeen, on a hot Sunday afternoon with Pink Floyd on my headphones, Volume: full blast. Propped open: Palahniuk. Room: a mess. Today is just like that. It's teenage angst all over again.

Except that C just texted, ruining the momentum of this post. I'm sorry, I gotta call him up. It has been a depressing week for everyone.

HOLD.

Heh. I forgot that I have an unfinished blog post. C's down. What can I do to cheer him up? I'm as depressed as he is. Bah. Anyway.

I just want to say that I don't like handling drunk fathers. Nobody does. So why don't you, fathers of the world, stop being such alcoholics and be good? NO, you can't be a good father and an alcoholic at the same time. My friend J thinks that he can though. He believes that if he's honest to his sons about his drinking and smoking and if he does it in front of them they would appreciate his honesty and grow up responsible and cool without having any ill-feelings whatsoever toward their father. NO. Trust me, I hate days when my father's been drinking, which is like almost everyday. He drinks everyday but he doesn't get drunk everyday. And when he does I just want to go away. Thus the deja vu of my seventeen-year-old Sunday afternoon. i AM ranting.

GET ME OUT OF HERE.

I CAN HAZ A JOB

I've got a job. Part-time. But still, it's a job. Will start on the first of October. Will probably delete this blog once I am able to get a life. Can't wait.

Last night was war, BTW. Awesome, awesome party. Free-flowing drinks and friends almost rhyme!

Shmoke

I miss C. He's my Freddie. Putting up with all my shit.

MESS

Mess. Life. Mess. Life.

That's about all there is.

I will see my bestfriend tomorrow. She's back from the World Expo.

Last Nite: The C and J Bromance Story

The other night, C and I were at B's. Drank a little, smoked a lot. Then I went to A's after, still high as fuck. I felt like crashing so I just stayed there even though he had to leave for work. Thus the rant post yesterday.

Went to (or gatecrashed?) a birthday last night. C's cousin invited us (the one that we were with at the Ska Fest). But C said the celebrant actually invited us through his cousin. ANYWAY. Was actually feeling lazy to go out because it jusht feelsh sho good to curl up on the bed on a wainy night. Aww. Whatever, I still went anyway with C and J. It was okay. There weren't any food left when we got there but there were still enough alcohol to go around. The birthday celebrant is supposed to be the son of a famous 90's musician, so it was like a jam party. They had an electric guitar and a bass guitar set up, and also a cajon. People took turns jamming (I really hate that word). When it was C and J's turn, it was CRAZY, like everybody loved them crazy. It was kind of cool, I guess. You know what happens next. They played the entire night alternating with the guitar and the bass, people singing along from time to time when they happen to know the song. And then there was this girl who was ogling at C the whole night. He's got an admireeeer. Ha ha! Okay, so maybe C and J really are good together. Never really took them seriously, honestly. They've been in the band scene too long, you know, with different bands. But now that they're together in the same band I think it might actually work.

Bored

That last post was stupid.

Alone in someone else's room with only the internet and a pack of cigarettes to keep me sane

DO NOT READ.

A company just rejected my work.

Actually, no, they were just asking for a revision. And I, I don't know what to feel. Just months ago another company rejected me after giving them a really good work, sweat, blood, tears and all (I worked REALLY hard) just because they felt I was too mechanical and didn't really luuuuuuuurve the job as much as they'd want me to. And they did not even have the hairy balls to deny that I was good. Because I was.


I mean. I am trying. Okay? This is a compromise. Of me trying to put up with your system and at the same time doing what I think is right. I wouldn't go as far as "going down with the program", fucktards. Say what you want about me but I do have my principles and I stand by them.

There's no such thing as art for art's sake, Mao said. And he's right. But that does not mean that I would use it to save your big multinational bourgeois corporations' asses. It means the exact opposite.

Cuckooroookooo ARRRRGGHHHH

One more thing I hate about this place, our neighbor's got chickens. Real live cuckooing chickens. And they're cuckooing right now. At fifteen minutes before four. While I'm watching Skins. GREAT.

Lame-O

C and B are over at J's. Jamming again. And I'm stuck at my parents' house.

Today, when I took a bath I stayed as long as I can in the bathroom.
A stressful home. Isn't that supposed to be an oxymoron? I've been staying here for months just because I don't have enough money to pay rent anymore. I moved out when I was eighteen, feeling independent, empowered, and all that romanticized jazz, and now... And now, I'm eating Gardenia with Lady's Choice sandwich spread while watching Skins because I'm too lazy too cook and too fired up to sleep.

I know, I know.

‘Here comes the feeling you thought you’ve forgotten, chairs to sit, and sidewalks to walk on’

it was summer. it was war.

it was high fives with people you barely even know, i call it the rainbow connection — fuzzy and psychedelic. it was dancing without knowing how. it was confidence without high heels.

it was the almost-gray-area that never was. because it just wasn’t. it was the best friendship. just being there, complete sleep-wake cycle or no.

it was the infatuation that was the omega and the alpha. it was goodbye fuck-buddy and to the brains in your balls too. it was hello kaleidoscopic butterflies fluttering in my intestines, jazzy and bright. it was you.

it was music and love and art and life, as cliché as it might sound. but a cliché becomes a cliché for a reason. for a fucking good reason. like France and Shakespeare and happily ever afters.

it was not growing up. it was not wasting time. it was not getting wasted. it was not getting high. it was not not caring. and so it was.

it was seeing daytime in the vintage blue pink and white and the city nights red yellow and black. it was beauty of the scorching sun in Quezon City and giant sunflowers in UP. it was cheap metaphors and romanticized concrete buildings.

it was a comic book drawn with my right hand.

and i’m left-handed.

Productive

When your internet is really turtle-ly it makes you productive. Really. I just finished my assigned essays. And this hopefully means MONEY.

I have a dentist appointment tomorrow and a job interview next week. Wow, that's kind of a baby step towards getting a life, yeah?

I am just so motivated right now.

Forget about money, live it! But then again...

I AM BROKE.

I just spent the last 48 hours, drinking, smoking, getting high and having fun without shelling out. I need to get a real job. I'm always too lazy to get up. I feel so heavy. And I'm stick thin mind you. I feel as if all the oil and genetically-modified stuff I've been taking in with fast and processed food for years have finally taken it's toll. It feels like they are boiling inside me and it just makes me sooo laaaazy.

Nah

I still feel  sorry for him, but due to recent discoveries my sympathy has turned to loathing. You can never trust anyone these days. Ugh, I hate being in love. I hate being jealous and disappointed and lied to.

I'm About to Barf

I don't like this feeling. The feeling when the person you love most is suffering from an emotional catastrophe and all you can do is text him and tell him that it's going to be okay, that we'll talk about it tomorrow and we'll planeverything out and everything will turn out for the best. It's like telling a kid that there's a pot of gold at the end of the rainbow except that this kid does not believe in Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. So you just don't know what to say anymore.

And as a depressant, for lack of a better term, because that's what they call people like me in those medical books, I can't help but take everything in. Feel his hurt. Nurse his pain. Until that dreaded anxiety attack comes.

It won't happen this time though. He needs me more than ever and I just love him too much. And I swear I will kill myself if I let him down.

Tangled Web

Masaya ka pero alam mong may kulang. Yung bagay na tinalukaran mo para maabot ang kasiyahang tinatamasa mo ngayon. Alam mo kung alin ang mas mahalaga pero masyado kang duwag para harapin ito.

Hazy Night

Watched Terribly Happy at the Cine Europa. It was a mindfuck. Morally (like I have morals), I don't know what to feel about the film. But as a film, I'd say it was good. Beautiful. Brilliant.

Hopped to four different spots last night. Drank, smoked, snorted, dropped. And of course, effed. Am I supposed to blog this in detail? It's just the same old shit. The "eff" part's new though, it was our first time to do it in a fire exit.

Brownies for my Sister

Last night, I gave my fifteen-year-old sister a small piece from my brownies and didn't tell her what's in them. Soon after (sooner than I thought actually) she was laughing and telling stories comparable to the Mad Hatter. She was literally rolling on the floor laughing. But it wasn't really physiologically obvious that she was high, so nobody in the house suspected, everybody thought that she was just happy. I don't know what time she went to bed because she locked herself up in her room with the laptop, but she most certainly had a good night's sleep. And I know this because she overslept. She almost simultaneously opened her eyes and wore her uniform when she woke up this morning, and then went straight off to school. She was excused the first period because she was told that her eyes were reddish and everyone thought she's got sore eyes. She was allowed to go back to class when her eyes went back to its normal color. HA! So that's my sister in brownies. I'm not giving her anything ever again. HA!

I'm sho shleepy.

Wentworth Miller Appreciation Day

I'm drooling all over the place.

Why so damn beautiful?

Weird.

A teacher of mine in high school is unfortunately, also my sister's teacher this year for the same subject. And apparently, this teacher just told their class today that I was weird when I was in highschool, and she justified it so with a follow-up remark that I was always reading books in class. Well, duh, because I wouldn't have learned anything in high school if I just listened to the teachers and read school-required books. I had to find other ways to really, actually learn. And if that makes someone weird then I guess I am, bitches.

Magic Brownies

Supposed to watch Despicable Me yesterday. Went to First Mall, but they were only showing it in 3D. Went to Second Mall with the same predicament. Went to Third Mall today. FINALLY, a regular cinema. The movie was... cute. IT'S SO FLUFFAAAAAAYYY!!!

Went to D's. Then J's. Then somewhere else. Then made some good love.

POSERO

Posero ka, ibalik mo sa 'kin ang self-esteem na ibinigay ko sa 'yo, hoy! RAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRR!!!

Wurd.

What is it that's so difficult with words? They just don't come out naturally with me. It's not just with writing, I wish I write better prose though, but also no scenario seems comfortable enough for me to spill what's on my mind, often mistaken by others as pride. This has got to change.

Mondays

If that time in your life comes when you are to choose a day to stay in and pamper your ass, pick Monday.

Ska Festival

Right now I haven't really got anything sensible to write but it's a new blog and it's always exciting to write in new blogs, and blog posts aren't really required to be sensible anyway. Take this first sentence as a warning. Bah.

Last night we went to the Ska Festival. It was wild--not bad wild, just party wild, but still it was so hot, literally.There were so many people that it was impossible to get a good look at the band and stay dry at the same time. You'll keep bumping (and grinding) into sweaty arms (and other body parts) everywhere. And because I was with old people none of them were in the mood for some sweaty bumping and grinding in the middle of the crowd. Just kidding, they aren't that old, and sweat isn't really that at all appealing. Also, I am very, very sad to report that Cubao Expo has become so baduy, strict and feudal. I think it wasn't even 1AM when we left to go to J's place, and by then Cubao X has already closed its gates to the people outside waiting for their chance to get a whiff of that sweaty ska goodness. AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

So we left the jungle and went to J's. C and J jammed. Because they can (and also because they're planning--no, they are forming a band.) While I, the uncreative and boring one (always the saling ket-ket), drank their beer and from time to time took pictures with C's camera or just sat there and babble, filling up dead airs. An hour or two later C's cousin arrived with her 3 friends. Hurrah, people to talk to! Another hour or two later I was already feeling dizzy and of course, yours truly didn't bother to eat dinner before drinking, so inevitably and embarrassingly, she eventually threw up in the bathroom. Not glamorous at all.

Went home in the morning and slept. Shout out to my mom. Ikaw na ang cool.

Another Blog of my Life

I feel sick to my stomach. Other days I would dismiss this as just guilt clawing on my stomach walls, but not right now. Right now I really feel physiologically sick -- dizzy and nauseated. And I felt like sharing this to the world, yes. Because I have nothing better to do as I am yet to get a life.

Anyway, this blog is a by-product of contradictions, confuzzlements, and petty teenage angsts arriving a few years too late. Thus, this:

The Story of How I Came to be: The Unofficial Autobiography

Or not. It's just another blog.