Untitled (May, the 4th)

Should I tell you that I’m nervous
That I don’t want to sleep and face another day
Should I tell you that I’m lonely
If I could only turn back to last year

The earth is spinning
Faster than my mind can comprehend
I’m afraid I’m stuck

Time is running
Faster than my memory can remember
I’m afraid I’m out of luck

If we can only flip the earth’s movement
But even superman can’t turn back time to save her girl

I’ve been watching the sky
Change hue from blue to orange
I’ve been capturing clouds
To preserve fluff, hide signs of damage

I’ve been sitting for a year
Watching planes come and go
I’ve been isolated
No one even knows

Should I tell you that the seasons show
That everything changes
Everyone expects me to grow
Should I tell you that I’m tired and I’m lost
And I’m struggling to change the effects of my choice


Boys be like..

2 months ago, I resigned from my current work. I’m now living my bum life to the fullest. Haha.
So, today was One of my friend’s birthday celebration. I was the only chick today since all the other girls will not be able to make it today.
Spending the day with the boys includes playing arcade (specifically Tekken @ Timezone), watching Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice at the movies, and eating a gigantic pizza and disregarding weights. That was what I like with hanging out with the guys. You get to be yourself, to eat and drink to your tummy’s fullest without judgments. 🙂
Right now, I’m already tipsy and a little out of character but I’m having a good time. 🙂

(Not so) Happy Holidays!

So.. I have spent more than I was willing to these past few weeks. Just because I was so sick of work. And thinking and deciding about things spontaneously had become my outlet, I suppose. Which leads to too much spending and being a lazy ass and stuff.

Work.. I know I have made my mind before Christmas break to finally resign from this- ugh I don’t even know what to call it anymore. It’s sooo tiring and.. I’m just not happy anymore. I’m sick of it, and I wanted out. But now that the holiday break’s almost over, I swear I haven’t done anything yet to prepare myself for coming back to the office.

Can I just.. pass the letter and not think about anything anymore? I hate my lazy and stubborn and scared shit inside me. 😦

read() write()

I am undergoing a phase in my life when I think I’m addicted to reading. These past few days, because of the lack of things to keep me busy, I tried re-reading the materials available at my office desktop (yes, usually I go to work but majority of the time I spend there consists of reading non-work related books). I’ve been doing this for more than a month now, having finished two books and now on my third, not counting the one I read at home.

It feels so good, to stumble across some insights, relate it to yourself, to the world, and realized “Oo nga noh..” The fact that there are people (intellectual people) out there, who share your thoughts and were able to preserve them on paper or books, feels comfortable (with a little bit of excitement and happiness that I myself cannot even explain).

I remember once a quote (from Tado) from a book that says people who read books are intellectual people (or something like that). I totally feel this statement. Because every time I read, I gain something –bits of history; bits of reality; bits of truth; bits of information from other places/nature, without even going through Google. And then there’s topics that you don’t notice or are not important to you before, then suddenly you become interested with them, with their origin, with their tales. I feel a little more intelligent gaining something somehow, even though it was just a line, or a thought.

On the other hand, writing is as equally overwhelming as reading. It exercises your thoughts, to go deeper, to search for more articulate and brighter ideas in your mind, to help express yourself better; what you really feel and really want to convey.

Yesterday, while my mind was drifting far off, musing about this kind of stuff, I reminisce about the time in my youth where I write down stuff (the countless blogs, lyrics, poems, insights, life lessons..). I even checked a site of poems, where i have signed up for before, to see if my account still exists. Luckily, it’s still there. This site is still running, my account was preserved, and I was relieved. It’s good to see and re-read all those things that you created. I won”t even believe it myself as I scrolled after each poem and realized that they were written 7 years ago. Reading them now, I feel ashamed cos my words were really crappy then, but a little proud because I know that they sounded pretty cool from my perspective before. Haha!

Anyway, I just find it amusing how reading and writing can play a part in one’s happiness. Some do it for fun, some do it because it is necessary. For some, they do it to be inspired, or to experience or create the dream that they can’t have by means of being one of the characters. In my case, usually I do it to pass the time. However, I never expect to learn something from it, and I’m just really glad that I do get something out of it. 🙂

I love to do more of it from now on. I love the feeling of getting lost in the book from reading. I love the feeling of catching every word when I write because of the overflowing ideas/thoughts that I wanna say, scribbling excitedly and gaining callouses on my write (right) fingers –it’s like adrenaline rush for me.

Honestly though, I think it’s my frustration to be writer. I always wanted to write since I was a kid. I even had drafts of stories hidden somewhere in my treasure box. I spent my senior year in high school enjoying the benefit of having a journal and being able to share it with my classmates/friends. I spent my student allowance to buy notebooks (I used to save some coins from lunch money in order to buy notebooks) which soon became more like a written class forum (this time, my classmates tried to share the funding haha) than a personal journal. We even organized a poem contest, wherein willing students of my class will submit a poem of their own anonymously. And the rest of the class will determine the winner by voting for the poem of their choice. There are judges of course, one of them was our class moderator who wholeheartedly agreed to join in this event. What I’m trying to say is, this journal thing is somewhat public with the class but also private cos we write silly things about our teachers there. So basically, any involvement of any teacher would mean trouble. But since that was a poem-writing contest (a game of minds!), our moderator being involved was soon out of the issue. That part where I had/administered a journal/class forum, for the majority of my senior year, was one of the best years of my life. I was happy about the idea of it. The stage of adolescence was tough and somehow by writing through the tough times it became easier.

I don’t know why I never considered having a degree on journalism then. It was what I enjoyed. But thinking about it now, I think I became scared. Hell, even now I think I won’t sign up for it. I always thinks that being a journalist means you have to go out there, to interview certain people, to cover events, to face the camera and have your face known by the country. I wanted to write, but I’m afraid I might choose the path that will require me to do those kinds of scary things (sorry!). So I just resorted to apply for a computer course, and kept the writing thing to myself. It’s more reassuring and comfortable and I get to be closer with myself and get to know myself more. Additionally, it is also my means to express myself, when I cannot vocally/personally say it (because when I’m mad or sad or when I need someone to get my point but they won’t listen, I tear up easily, and who knows what will come out of my mouth).

Have I already said that I was thankful that I have the ability to read and write? Cos I know others can’t, yet I have this privilege. And if there will come a time where a part of my body will be removed/detached from me, under any circumstances, it should not be the eyes, or my right hand. It will be scary as hell.

Anyway, since this post has become so long, I will end this rambling.

Happy One Year WordPressing!

Ze title says it all.

I never imagined I would reach this far, without being inactive. Unlike all my other blogs in the past which were taken down (Rakista), left behind (Xanga), and forgotten (LiveJournal), this one survives! Hooray to WordPressing more years!

National Best Friends Day

Spent the whole BF day with one of my most awesome SBFF in the world.



If being with a guy means cutting the bff bondings and spending less time with your girls, then I’d rather be single forever. Just saying. 🙂

And just because it’s National Best Friends Day, I hereby entitled this I love you, SBFF. coupon to my best bud, valid til forever. xx

Sometimes I don’t write but hey sometimes I do.

February, March, April, wut.du.ef.juz.hapend.

There are just some nights when a blogger would be so overwhelmed by certain stuffs (outdoor activities, social interactions, work, play, having fun, etc.) that he has his hands full and sitting in front of the keyboard and letting his thoughts flow would be some kind of a no-no; some nights when even though he tries his best to start with some ideas, the energy, the will and the idea itself won’t kick in, and he will just resort to watching the sunset, staring at the sky, staring at nowhere, staring at the walls of his room, staring at the ceiling, listening to birds, watching the traffic, watching the moon, watching movies and TV series, playing billiards, playing bowling, playing words with friends, playing royal revolt 2, playing clash of clans, uninstalling clash of clans, playing harvest moon, staying up late, staying up late with a friend online, staying up late with a friend who was staying the night, staying up late with some family members, and doing a couple of other activities that won’t require him to sit and open WordPress or pick up his notebook and pen. There are just some nights when this blogger, whether I like it or not, is me.

So where was I?

I was at an Avril Lavigne concert. I was out drinking. I was at Renn’s funeral. I was at a company outing. I was playing cards with friends. I was playing jenga with friends. I was at a fun run. I was playing Left 4 Dead with friends. I was lending cash to my uncle. I was lending a big amount of cash to my father. I was at Puerto Galera. I was drinking and getting all drunk and crazy at Puerto Galera. I was catching up and bonding with other friends. I was watching Captain America: The Winter Soldier. I was watching Rio 2. I was spending the Holy Week and long vacation at home. I was eating at least one egg a day during Holy Week. I was watching and playing numerous movies and games during Holy Week. Most of the time, I was just sitting my lazy arse at office, not working and getting paid.

And with these all kinds of stuffs, I never even pushed myself to write. Man, I’m a one lazy miserable bummed-ass blogger who just eats her way and continues getting a bulge of her tummy. So this night, though I have this zero percent of an idea to write about, I pushed my way to hit the chair and face the screen and start typing. That’s a one lazy miserable bummed-ass and a blogger for you.