Paroxysms

I have to admit, I do keep my dating accounts still active. Sort of an ego boost. Just to check how I still rate with dating sites and shit. Once in a while, I do get invites, I just turn them down. I feel more powerful and attractive that way. It’s like my way of flipping my middle finger to those who rejected me in the past. Petty.

Every now and then there’s a gem of an idiot who’ll bump on my profile and harass me. They’ll prolly ask for sex and one night stands, that’s how it usually goes in dating sites anyways. More like a hook-up site rather than a friendly dating site and in this era, who would go out in friendly dates anyways? Nuninuninuni.

Not to brag, but ugh, it gets annoying at some point. It's like opening a can of worms again. They just can't stop. Uh uh no they won't.

I have to say though, these paroxysms are just like hiccups. I don’t take them seriously. I just chat with them and interact with them. If they are decent enough, then we become friends and buddies. I don’t really viciously tear them up for no reason, I do it those who deserve that. Just to give them a taste of their own bitter medicine.

And making sure you distance yourself is how to do it perfectly without backlashes. Then do a quick hair flip to make sure you feel alpha.

Little Fuzzy

I love cats. I like how bitchy they are in real life. You know when at day time, they won't even let you hold them but at night, they would really love to sleep on your face. That kind of stuff. I apparently like them for that.

They curl up in a ball when they wanna be all clingy and shit. But they look like roadkill when they sleep; sprawled and spread-eagled, which makes me wanna smother them or trample them. I don't know, I just feel like Agnes "It's so fluffy, I'm gonna die!" sort of feeling whenever I see cats.

But anyways, my girl cat got knocked up again. Giselle is preggers and I know my mom would kick her litter out again if she gives birth inside the house. My mom and the cats have that I'll-give-you-food-and-you-stay out-of-the-house kind of relationship. She is more of a dog person. I don't agree but I can't argue with her anyways. Funny thing though is, she would also baby talk the kittens as well before throwing them out. Gotta love my mom.

And since Christmas is near, I want a new cat. :3

I'll prolly adopt another one soon.

Sicko

You see, there are things that I wanna talk about. I have been seriously contemplating about this issue.

Gay porn. How diverse is it? Well, for me, I only have two main categories. I seem to have found a formula for the script.

Normal gay porn: oh hey I came over to give you a massage at a public pool, three minutes of horrid dialog and oh oops I somehow fell in and out of your butt for twenty minutes with horrid grunting and phrases like "fuck yeah" or "you like that!?"

Japanese gay porn: I really like you, I've had a crush on you for so long. Sometimes I imagine us being together. I saw you passing down the street and I couldn't get you out of my mind. I had to come say something. Sometimes i could be just sitting off on my own and I'll start to daydream. I drift of into almost another realm where we are all alone like I've always wanted but was too shy to ever tell. I have mustered up enough courage to tell you all this. Please don't be angry. I'm really shy and just want to be loved. May I kiss you? Just once? And maybe we will fall in love like I have always hoped. Twenty minutes of cute Japanese dialog and ten minutes of awkward kissing. Three minutes of crazy awkward sex and soft cute moaning.

Life Hack #5

When in doubt, break it off. Quick, simple, easy.

The Hanging Tree

Are you, Are you

Coming to the tree

Where they strung up a man they say murdered three

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree

Are you, Are you

Coming to the tree

Where the dead man called out for his love to flee

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree

Are you, Are you

Coming to the tree

Where I told you to run, so we'd both be free

Strange things did happen here

No stranger would it be

If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.

Are you, Are you

Coming to the tree

Wear a necklace of rope, side by side with me.

Strange things did happen here,

No stranger would it be,

If we met up at midnight in the hanging tree.

Seems like, I'm getting in a bit of a trouble here.

-Mockingjay

Alpine - Villages

I do have an eclectic taste for music. And this right here, is the kind I listen to a lot.

Lonely Lamp Posts

Waiting in a car, 
Waiting for a ride in the dark.
The night city grows.
Look and see her eyes, they glow.

And there he was, with lips glistening. A smell of angst and sex lingers. He's absolutely stunning. I took another shot of Stolichnaya. I didn't catch his name, it doesn't really matter. What I was feeling wasn't really attraction or anything to that extent. I was actually repulsed. Why was I drinking alone?

Waiting for a roar,
Looking at the mutating skyline.
The City is my church,
It wraps me in the sparkling twilight.

He kept on pushing himself onto me while I was sitting on the stool. I didn't budge a bit. Grabbed my bag instead and headed out of the bar. To my surprise he followed me. I leaned on the lone lamp post a few blocks away and felt myself slump to the floor. The world was spinning, I've drank too much again. I looked up, the pretty lights were swirling in deep indigo.

"Come on Nik, you've had too much. Fun is good, but this is ridiculous," says the stranger.
"No! Lemme stay for here a bit. I can't go with you. I've to get home and sleep. My mom would kill me."
"Alright, let me get a cab then. I'll drop you off."

Waiting in the car,
Waiting for a ride in the dark.
Drinking in the lounge,
Following the neon signs.

Picked up my bag and unceremoniously threw up in the gutters. I've swung my head just to check if anyone is nearby doing the same thing. None. Just me and the stranger. Managed to move my shoes away from the putrid projectile.

I saw the stranger move closer. He got a cab. I tried my best to stand up straight, but I buckled and swayed. He grabbed my left arm and hauled me inside to the back of the cab. I smelled like shit. Good thing I still had my bottled water, mints and some alcohol.

This is screwed up. I might die of shame. And I was surprised he knew where I lived. I felt his arm hover over my head. The quintessential boyfriend-in-the-cinema move. Shit. I was in nowhere near normalcy to defend myself from whatever. I groaned. He laughed. I fell asleep.

He nudged me. I was stirred up from my drunken stupor. I realized we were in my neighborhood. I scurried out of the cab and I heard muffled noises. I didn't bother looking back. I found another lamp post. I emptied my guts out in full force now.

I managed to slide into the house without waking anyone. I took off every bit of clothing, showered and brushed my teeth. Drank 2 tablets of Advil and water. Put on my pajamas and slept. When I woke up, I heard my phone beep before it died. Plugged it in and the messages all came in at once.

"You idiot, you just don't know when to stop don't you," from an unknown number.
"Oh was it you? God, I didn't even ask for your name. I'm sorry."
"It's alright Nik. You really don't recognize me? We went to the same school back in 2003."
"Huh? Not really. I can't remember people in my school unless you were significant."
"Hahaha. I was the transferee. That should ring a bell. :D"

I didn't reply afterwards.

Holy fuck. My awkward history with high school: it all struck me like I'm sort of a lightning rod. He was really cute back then. In college, I found out he had an account with Downelink. My other gay classmates were pairing me and him. But I never really did talk to guy. He was a part of the cool and macho kids. I was a part of the nerds. So there's no common ground for anything. In fact, I just wished the the ground opened up and swallowed me and my bruised ego.

I cringed. I really liked that guy. He was handsome. He wasn't as smart as me though. But he's changed. He's hot now. Ugh... I blushed at the thought. Then I slapped myself high.

I still get his texts and I casually reply hi and hello. But that's about it.

It's so sad that the lamp posts had seen my humiliating night. It's like they're bowing its head, feeling sorry for me. I bet it's not only me that they saw. If only they could talk.

Slender

So last night, I tried playing this game called Slender: The Eight Pages. It's basically my fears all summed up into one game. And because I wanted to scare myself since Halloween is nearing, I mustered all my brave hormones and played it.

It is an FPS (first-person shooter) game and you'll be playing a character who got trapped in a very dark forest with only a flashlight to carry around. You'll be doing nothing but finding those eight pages in a vast expanse of trees and woods. Those pages can solve the mystery of the Slender Man or the antagonist.

According to sources, Slender Man generally captures children for his victims. There are no evidences on how his victims were killed or how he got you in the game.

He doesn't really shoot bullets or run or whatever, he is just creepy and that's enough to scare the shit out of me. You have to collect the clues to escape the eerie forest. He just magically appears on your screen and be all creepy. And when he does, your character's sanity drains and your screen will start to get staticky and fuzzy. He has no facial features. (FUCK) 

When you get your first page, he will appear to be really far. But when you get more pages or don't get them too quickly, he will appear more frequently and more closer to your line of sight. If he gets too close to you, your vision will blur and he will appear close up on the screen. You won't be able to press ESC or pause just to exit the game. And you will scream. (I punched my knee to stop me from shouting obscenities in the middle of the night and/or throwing my laptop away.)

What's funny is he isn't really scary. He just appears out of the darkness with his tentacles and doesn't do anything. What's also scary is that he looks like the ambient trees. You won't notice him until you look really close. And then you're gonna hear you're character's breathing go shallow and rapid. There's also that ambient noise when you know you're in deep shit. You just "die" of heart attack and fear of what Slender is gonna do to you. 

You won't beat Slender though, he will ultimately kill you. You'll just get to look at all the 8 notes and learn the terror behind the myth. I couldn't sleep the next day without my lights on and I've also decided not to go camping any time soon. True story.

And with that I know what I will be wearing for Halloween.

Family Guy

My dad usually goes home around past 12am. Usually drunk and inebriated. He usually rouses my mom up to talk with utter sincerity due to his alcohol. They just don't know that I overhear what they usually talk about. Sometimes, it's about their zombified relationship as husband and wife, other times, its about my future, a whole lot of times its regarding the relatives and in-laws.

Tonight's topic is about how we communicate at home. Mom claims that our house has no censors; she aptly described us, her kids, as blunt and blatant. Well, quite honestly my sister has found out that dad has gone out with his girl officemates. My mom and my sister suspects that he's up to his old tricks again. Sigh.

My sister really has gone out wild on my dad, dad just got his face slapped with bitter words. It's funny to see how the dynamic in our family has drastically changed. I decided to hold my tongue and they are eternally grateful for that because they are very much aware that I have the sharpest in the family. As much as I'd like to detach myself from them, as much as I'd like not to care, I can't. I really can't. It actually hurts so much to see how hostile are we at each other now and I can't do anything to try to fix it. We're as volatile as liquid nitrogen. And yet we still stick, by some miraculous means.

I love my family. But I don't know whether I can handle the pressure of being the family breadwinner. It's always the anathema to my dreams. And every fucking time this topic is brought up, I'm the always the one yielding. I have to because it's the right thing to do. 

People have always told to me be positive about it, but really, I can't because I'm the one who's being compromised. I find it unfair. Do they even know how much I wanted to become a doctor? All the drama behind this pathologically happy facade? And no, I am not in my self-hypnosis anymore.

It's a constant struggle, between being practical or being radical. My mom tells me to follow my dreams and she somehow brings me back to reality with the current situation we are in. She doesn't know how she subliminally torments me. I just usually give out a long sigh.

It's just so hard, you know. Like I feel like giving up. I'm just so tired and I just wanna sleep. And in my dreams I wish and pray so hard that things will change, that maybe even God hears me in my sleep. I'm just holding on to whatever it is that I can hold to and I try to do everything that I can, bring in some food on the table. The trivial things that makes me happy. Because of being so pessimistic in life, even the smallest of surprises is a welcome treat. Sigh.

And then I've also thought of becoming a cat, 'cause cats are so cool. This last sentence has so much relevance with what I wrote.

伴都美子 (Van Tomiko) - Hold Me

"I love you." -- the confession I've set free
Takes on the colours of our own private game...
I look down and bite my lip mischievously --
Light and shadows dance in the starry sky.

When I'm Small

I love being small. Being incognito, you have some margin of error in whatever you do. I fit in places that people can't reach. I can actually reach out and do more when I'm small.

********

I applied as a Junior Copywriter for a web advertising company. They were surprised that I was a nurse and yet I had the audacity to apply and champion myself for the position. My writing "inexperience" was really the icing to the cake.

 I have been blogging for over 7 years and I already have the feel of having some readership.  I know it's not a lot right now, but it helps. And they were probably surprised that I can write my ass off. So yes, I'm starting small again.

They were also surprised that I did freelance writing for websites as well. I told them how bad the compensation was and their eyes lit up in an instant. Hook, line and sinker? Probably. I'll have to wait for their call on Monday.

********

After my interview, I went out with a slutty friend in Ortigas. He was telling me how he was sexually depraved and was asking for my help and flirting prowess(?) which apparently, I don't even know I have. He  was actually seeing someone but while they were doing it inside the motel, the guy saw a girl ghost while he was thrusting away(TMI!!!!) and didn't climax. My friend, in turn, didn't get a good oomphing as well. He was disappointed big time. Third Eye (the-guy-that-doesn't-come, figuratively) started to clam up on my Slut Friend after the untoward incident.

Damn it. LOL.

And then I enter the scene.

So we were trying to plan our attack. I had this gay dating app on my phone. He has one too. So what we did was we flaunted my profile. My profile was a killer, I had 5 guys asking for a booty call in a span of 30 minutes after going online. My ego was as big as the Empire State when I got pinged multiple times. Oh dear, I have unleashed something vicious and carnal. My hunting instincts went back and the usual conversation goes like this...

victim: Hey.
me: Yo, whats up pal?
victim: You up for some fun?
me: Yeah sure. I have someone though. Mind if we all get along and play nice? ;)
victim: Teka gwapo ba?
me: Oo. Kasing gwapo ko.
(i ask my friend to send his pics to the victim)
victim: Nyay, panget eh. Hahaha! Kilala ko na yan, hindi ko nga nirereplyan eh. Yaw ko. Kaw na lang. Punta ka dito sa *ksdfhjgsdjfsjdf*
me: Nah nevermind. Thanks.

I turn to my friend and he was fuming.

"Putanginang mga panget yan ayaw magsi-reply, eh mas maganda kutis ko sa kanila eh!!! Kala mo kung sinong gwapo..."

Well, honestly I didn't know what to say. My friend looks like me. He has a very smooth skin, pale and androgynous as me. He has kpop hair as well. He's an inch shorter than me, that makes him like 5'10'' and we really look like twins. He's smart and he knows stuff I don't. He is fucking rich as well. (So if any of you guys wanna "do" him a favor, just let me know. LOL) He is still studying though and he is asking me for help with his thesis.

Then I felt pity for my Slut Friend. We kinda stopped doing our plan after that, cause it backfired. I mean he doesn't have to resort to this kind of debasement. I just advised him that he has to wait for Third Eye. Third Eye promised him a "second wind" sort to speak. So I just told him that he doesn't have to scratch the itch right now and wait for Third Eye to come(no pun intended) around. I told him that: "If it's gonna be Third Eye, then things will happen by themselves. There is hope, hold on to it for a little longer." *insert a long deep sigh*

He is a sweet kid, but yeah, raging whoremones. And he also has a bruised ego. I seem to have taken a young padawan under my wise tutelage.

Oh god...

********

I don't know but I get through stuff and shit when I'm incognito. That feeling of having no expectations on you makes me feel confident and braver.

And my ego auto-deflates itself. So no need to worry. Little Nikki has no problems with his ego.

I can't publish this on my tumblr since my future bosses will be checking on my blog on a regular basis. I was even proud of my blog. Now I can't be all sweary and informal. Fuckity...

Monsoon

Strangely, I just love the atmosphere after a heavy downpour. 

So crisp and clean, yet so wistful and somber. 

The muted grays and whites and opalescent blues melting together, put me into an eerie trance-like ambedo.

There's that slight chill which is always welcome, it bites through my skin.

It’s like the whole world has taken a bath with me.

Adept

So, I haven't updated my blog in such a long time and a lot has happened these past few months.

First of, I am really really busy with work. My sched is quite toxic. Have to juggle responsibilities; as the ambitious son of a bitch that I am, my slowly decaying social life, and the best boyfriend ever. Apparently, some of my new found friends from work had gotten their End Of Contracts and next week I'll be deployed to a new team. A lot of movement has occurred these past 2 months and I'm getting dizzy. Besides the fact that my new team works on a graveyard shift (which I know will trigger my migraine and vertigo), the bulk of the calls that come in are the highest at that point. So may the odds be ever in my favor.

Second, my mom wants me to enroll for my MA. I really don't know if I could handle it right now, I am in such a volatile and aggressive working environment and I find myself heavy footed. I'm still trying to adapt to all these fast changes.

 ***I just celebrated my 1st year with P. YAY!

My (Proposed) List of PUJ Etiquette

For Drivers:

• Wag sana parahan lahat ng tao sa tabi ng kalsada lalo na’t pag alas sais ng umaga o gabi.If its already rush hour, try to rush. People will fight for their lives just to ride inside one. The concept is to rush to go home or get to work, but Manong Drivers like to dilly dally for their boundary. It defeats the purpose of rush hour. I swear, they’ll get their boundary when its already rush hour. It’s like The Hunger Games’ Cornucopia. 
• Please, do not smoke while driving. The passengers do not like to have burnt cigarette blown to their faces… especially me. 
• Try to take a shower before doing your pasada. Nuff’ said.

For Passengers:

• Girls, please wear a headband or tie your hair in a ponytail. We get that your hair is beautiful, long and soft, but we do not appreciate it smacking our faces or worse, eating it. Kay? 
• Again, for everyone, please take a bath before you decide to ride a jeep. To put emphasis on that; Construction Workers. 
• I think that people with disabilities, elderly and children should ride with someone else to assist them. The wildlife inside the jeep are diverse and some of the passengers are like sloths. They don’t even budge an inch just to let other people sit. 
• Dear guys-who-think-they-have-big-dicks, please, don’t spread your legs as if you own the damned jeep. Other people like to sit comfortably(like me who is a human giraffe) and a little compromise wouldn’t hurt. Oh woops, your ego got bruised? 
• Try not to intentionally trip the person going in/getting out of the jeep.Been there, done that. Wa poise tsong. 
• Do not put your cellphones on speakerphone. I’m sorry but we’re not interested in hearing your convo’s filled with sexual innuendos. The streets of Metro Manila are filled with all kinds of “denizens” and we do not want to attract the ones wielding knives and guns. And please stop calling Dudung your “bave,” ate. 
• I think everyone should say thank you to the person who helped you pass your fare to Manong Driver. Manners people, we still have them. Being in a jeep doesn’t automatically remove your morals now, isn’t it? 
• If it’s raining, don’t flourish your umbrella like its a sword. Ano, aso lang? Winagayway para mambasa. 

In any case, this is just a list my observations. These are just of some the things that I hate about riding a PUJ. I know that it looks like a little too snooty, but in other countries, they really have ‘em. And a little breeding and class doesn’t hurt.

Feel free to add more. :))

The Archons

“We all get hurt.”

Sometimes, it is what we need to learn from mistakes. Although, for us to learn, we need to realize why we got hurt and how we can avoid it next time. It’s already bad as it is to get hurt, but to actually admit the truth that we did something stupid, is even worse. Yes? And somehow, when we finally absorb the whole immensity of the situation, that’s when we find resolution and end our misery.

It takes maturity and wisdom to accept things that are and that are not. Frankly, I like how my friends are maturing now at different paces. It’s gratifying to see that we are headed somewhere good.

And sometimes, getting hurt is one of our most epiphanic moments. It gives clarity to the chaos that is inside. Of course, our way of epiphany needs a little dousing of alcohol. Golden moments.

It was my dream to be with people who I can grow with, be crazy with, be stupid with. It's finally come true. It just amazes me how much we have changed in a span of few months. It just makes me all the more rooted with them. 

Oh now I believe we should be transcending the humani ways of learning.

What He Is Not

Like Johnny Depp, he smells of intrigue and Marlboro Reds. He talks about German expressionism films with much gusto during our evening tea. He listens to Liszt and The Smiths at the same time. He quotes Karl Lagerfeld in one of his speeches. He cites Blair Waldorf at my wicked ways.

Such ideals for tiny little being like me.

I often thought having a boyfriend would be all that. But it's not. Surprisingly, I still love my boyfriend for what he is and what he is not. We may have fights and shit storms, but it just makes us stronger.

My dear Panini, you are such an idiot sometimes, but I cannot seem to hate you even if you made me cry. You are the only one person who can break a person like me who is dead inside.

I'll miss you when I start work.

Love,
Chowder

Polymers

So I've been thinking. If blogging is one way of expressing ourselves, then why do we tend to hide from life itself? The joys of blogging freely is delightful, unless your grand motive for blogging is causing trouble and hurt.

I write what I feel, I say what I wanna say. And, if it kills me, I'm fine with it. I stand by my words. I don't like hurting people's feelings without their consent, because that's my brand of humor and wit.

I don't hide, I stopped hiding. I've got tons to lose, but I don't care. I man up and face the consequences of whatever I put up on my blog.

People are so plastic nowadays; I call it being a "retard." No offense.

It's just that I don't like wearing poly-blends, I only wear 100% cotton.

P.S. Drama never suits me, I'll just get all ugly and that. I'd let karma work its magic.

How I want to spend my day with you (Honey and Clover style)

Wake up beside you with nothing but my t-shirt and undies on.



You’d always bother me when I’m making our breakfast.



Then we’d end up screwing up breakfast… and maybe more? Hihi.



We’d settle for some bread instead. But you don’t know how mad I am at you.



And we’ll sing some random songs about summers and springs.



We’d go for short trips, and you’d be scared shitless because of my leet driving skills.



And oh, you’d always get so antsy inside the grocery.



But I haven’t told you that you always look dashing with glasses on. Oh my...



Grabbed some tea for me and coffee for you. I’m such a tea person… Bitter.



Because of your constant bickering, we head to the beach.



And then you’d tell me your plans, secrets, apprehensions. Everything.



…and Splash!



I hate you so much for being such an idiot sometimes… but you’re my idiot.



And I just wish we could just do it this day over and over again.

Happy 10th motherfucker.

Oh the places you put it in.

Last Friday, my classmates from high school asked me out on a random dinner date. I obliged since I had no plans for that day actually.

I took the MRT to Trinoma. The trip was excruciatingly smelly. It smelled like a sweaty, oniony, musky dilapidated zoo inside the car of the train. I think a few of my neurons died in that 5 minute ride from Kamuning station to North Ave.

So there, we had dinner and got coffee. We're catching up on very important life changing topics(ie: sex, lovelife, work, more sex, and more lovelife.) when one of us popped the idea of getting drunk that night. I seconded the motion and voila they all ganged up on me. With grins on their faces, they coerced me to say yes. They wanted to go to O-bar Ortigas.

Oh dear god...

Well, after a litany of persuasive attempts, they caught me unguarded. I've never been to that bar, they all said it was prolly time to be "exposed" to such places. They are actually frequent flyers of the bar. I trust them.

I just wanted to get really drunk... like roaring, puking, rolling drunk. SHITFACED DRUNK FTW! I didn't need to pick up or get picked up; no need for social interaction with the crowd there. I have my own agenda it doesn't involve sex or making out. I went there to dance and drink myself crazy.

We got there around 12mn. I remember seeing a lot of smoke. I guess it was to cover up the uglies inside. IDK...

As soon as we stepped in, there were naked guys already, dancing on the darkest corners of the room. Guys(?) ogled and drooled. Quite expected.

We settled in the most spacious corner. We looked like yuppies, I looked like shit... well not really. It's just that I came from work and I felt sticky and sweaty already.  I looked like a dignified school kid.

So we got our first round of drinks and we already feel a couple of eyes going our group's way. We flicked our hair and wrists and shoo'd them away. Bitch mode was definitely on that night.

People started pouring in groups. There were the Thundercats, the gym-goers, the jejemons, the foreigners, the nerdies, the rich guys, the athletes and the good-looking ones. It was sad because the latter only had a few members... and they were already paired up with each other.

What the hell was I thinking?

Then girls came in! My eyes rolled to the back of their sockets, all the way to my occipital lobe. Oh, hell no.

So yeah, we danced in a very tight knit circle to prevent others from penetrating (no pun intended) our very posh(?) group.

It was getting cramped and then the music stopped and the lights went off. EVA PAPAYA CAME ON STAGE! OH MY FUCKING GOD! Can you imagine?! *insert sarcasm here*

DAFUQ?! SERIOUSLY?

My jaws unhinged and dropped on the floor. My brain did a triple backflip and a half twist in midair and fell on pile of rusty nails.

We went out to get smokes(and gum for me since I die with smoke) around 2am. We discussed things and they all laughed at me because I was freaking out inside. Then I thought, I must salvage this night. I need to enjoy.

We headed back with hands held together. As we were getting close to the bar to get our drinks, one my friends just shouted. "FUCK! WHERE'S MY WALLET!!!"

It seems that his wallet was pick-pocketed from his leather satchel bag. We went berserk.

We headed straight to the bouncers and reported the incident. Apparently, there were 4 similar incidents that happened that night. It was nothing new for them. It's like they just mocked us and I felt rage building inside my tummy.

I made a few calls and my friend had his ATM blocked right away. I swear, that bar will burn in a fiery mass of sulphuric destruction (no biblical implications intended.)

So there, officially the night was ruined. We cried and laughed at the same time. It was something very new to me and it was traumatizing. I don't think I will be going to that place ever again. Maybe, when security is as tight as a girl's vagina then okay, I might go back.

On the way out, I decided to go the restroom to freshen up. I saw 3 men making out. I averted my eyes and poof, 2 more guys making out. OH HELL NO! I did not sign up for this! I thought to myself.

No offense to those who go there frequently, but my first time just sucked balls... literally. Well, I think all my first times sucked balls.

I went inside my cab and thought this might just be a weird and stupid dream. It was like I was re-watching a very sad movie.

Shocked to the bones.

Blue

Lamictal, Lexapro.

Doc says okay.

Raspy voice.

Terrified.

Eat more brocolli,
No chocolates.
Fuck you,
Grin.

Speak softly idiot!
Run two miles,
Breathe in.
Clay.

Lithium, Valium
More Yoga.
Diarized,
Write.

Period

Okay, so yeah, I'm yet again on the brink of being broke. After this very brief stint with HSBC, I am not certain if they would still retain me for my exemplary service. I very much am ready if ever that circumstance would happen. A pang of sorrow does still hit me right in the middle of my chest whenever I hear the words:

"It's done! We're done. 64 fucking thousand names and we've cleaned them all. Great job team!"

Great job team, great job me.

The higher management hasn't really put a mandate yet on whether they'd give me the next project. I was championing myself because I know it will be stressful but I know I can handle. I am very flexible(insert sexual innuendo), adaptive and nonchalant. I thrive in stress. Period.

Apart from that, I haven't really thought about what job should I get into next. I just thought I need one because I was prepping myself for school... My plans are foiled again.

I would have gone drinking last night and went to work all shitfaced and wasted, but instead me and my friends just bashed it all out in a good round of DoTA. Kinky?

Honestly, right now, I am in work... Twiddling thumbs. All work-related activities seem so moot to me right now.

Mr. Danforth Thackeray has yet to find himself another niche to live in.

Oh boy, boobs!

Second Chance

"You can't count on a second chance. The second chance will never be found."


I am tired.

"You stick to what you knew before, don't know what you like? Just make up your mind."


And now, I am.

Insensitivity

While I was eating dinner earlier, I got a text telling me that one of my super favorite teachers from high school had passed away. My heart sank and I couldn’t finish dinner.

I got so anxious I went on facebook to check on my classmates. Apparently, the said teacher was still alive but fighting for dear life. My grief still wasn’t relieved; to hear that you’re favorite teacher is already very ill is a little better than hearing her die. But, the point is, she is still on the brink of meeting her creator.

She was one of the few faculty members who supported our budding chorale group when I was still in high school. I wasn’t sure if it was just because she was a religion teacher or if she really did love our choir; I don’t care, she was there when we needed support and we are eternally grateful for that.

Ironically, when I was at work today, I was singing my favorite chorale piece: The Prayer of St. Francis. I remember that she also loved our group’s rendition of that song.

Was it a sign that she might be going through it all already?

I don’t know, but I do care. There’s this feeling of worry and sadness just digging in my innards. I really loved her gentleness and exuberance. I miss her and if ever the rumors were true, I would’ve cried tonight.

Then I realized, is it always necessary for someone to get terminally ill or dying to get my attention? Have I gone so insensitive, that I never cared catching up with my high school friends or teachers? Something must be wrong and I cannot blame anyone or myself.

Il signore, mirende uno strumento de la vostra pace…
Lord, make me. Make me an instrument of your peace…
- Prayer of St. Francis.

Pussycat, Pussycat, Where Have You Been?

Last night, a dear friend just celebrated his birthday.

And here I am, audacious enough to make a blog post about it.

The original plan was to have a tea and biscuit party... Apparently, that idea was immediately thrown out the window. I was asked to buy vodka for the whole soiree. So there, I still bought vodka and some biscuits and yogurt.

I got to the venue and the loud booming of the music reverberated inside the house. Okay. Not what I hoped for.

Rihanna would have been so proud of us when we raped her song over and over again. It was like the theme song of the night. Along with J.Lo's Dance Again, Kylie Minogue's Timebomb, David Guetta's Titanium. Yas's house became a branch of O-bar(well... sort of?) for a night. The difference was, it wasn't a night of debauchery and hooking up, it was more of dance-till-you-die-from-the-heat kind of night

I was thinking that maybe after all the excitement dies down, we can have our tea party. BUT NO! It was drink after drink after drink after the lovely dinner of Java rice and roast chicken, courtesy of Nimmy, Leo and Ryan. And then there was frantic dancing involved, couture shots, ANTM debates and everything under the sun... and  Travis(no pun intended.)

Ryan wasn't amused by Yas's terrible hosting and organizing skills.

I was drinking "Skinny Bitch" all night long; it was made out of just diet coke and vodka really. It was one of the quickest drinks I can manage to mix. Poor Babit got drunk from spiking his own drink. LOL. A little inebriation never hurt. Haha.

YJ was prolly the most vocal person that I met last night, and I was laughing every fucking time he opens his mouth. No wonder people love him.

Then Kane came along with Gino and their boy toys when we we're just about to go home and the night literally became like a gay parade(no offense).

 So yes there it was, in all its glory. Almost half of the PLU blogging community was there and if a meteor was to fall on Yas's house that, we'd be dead right now.

I had to go home around midnight because I came straight from work to the party. My bag was bulky from all the tech stuff I had. I felt sticky and stinky because Yas' house was poorly ventilated. 

Kane, dear, I'm sorry if I smelled terrible when you hugged me. 

I took a taxi and rain started to pour. The streaks of water splashing across the windshield reminds me of how things have quickly progressed since I came out in my blog; very docile yet very abrupt.

Oh buckets...

Pussycat, pussycat, where have you been?
I've been somewhere to visit some Queens.

Concrete Wall

What is this all about? Settle down, please don't yell or shout The landlord, he lives downstairs We'll get evicted Please don't be too loud  You say I'm passive-aggressive How can I not be? When you're always talking at me You say I'm unresponsive And here you are Talking over me 
 You make me wanna throw this shoe  Right through that concrete wall Maybe you should pack your things If it's that dreadful Then just leave it all 
 Don't wanna keep on sharing my bed With someone that I have to love less and less Every time I try to make you smile You say that I'm being a child Well, I tried my best 
You say that I need therapy Well, my darling, so do you Don't need for you to tell me What is wrong in all I say or do  Please don't try to throw this shoe
 Right through that concrete wall Maybe you should pack your things If it's that dreadful Then just leave it all

Charlie's Web

I’ve always liked watching movies alone. I only go to movie houses to watch the people’s reaction to the movie after it is done. I can never really gauge how good the director and the writer is until everyone is in tears or roaring with laughter.

It’s always the director’s skill to engage the audience into the writer’s brilliance. And sometimes, not everyone gets the same message the movie wants to convey until everyone’s little bits and pieces of the story will condense and crystallize into one sentient idea.

With that, I exclaimed “Aha!!!”

And that is where I finally understood how extraordinary he was.

“Very well played, good sir,” I muttered.

Oh, look at all the tangled webs that people weave, like fragile laces with superglue.

Cloudburst

No, I haven't gone AWOL. I just had too much stuff to do during these past few weeks. Work has been tremendously toxic, micro managing each agent to perform and qualify for the stats that we had established for the whole duration of this special project. I didn't even have time to post a decent blog post on both my tumblr and blogspot. Luckily this week, we decided to take a break. Thank god!

I remember getting off from work with this crazy downpour going on. It's refreshing actually. Being seated all day at work and typing nonstop for the bosses, a little shower wouldn't hurt. SO YEAH, I ran through the rain and I am not regretting it at all. Haha!

I rode a taxi all wet and went to see my friends at Kozui. We finally had time to catch up and chill out. The workload at work definitely stresses me out and these little reprieves are enough to invigorate me and keep me going on. After all, when this business venture ends, I might earn a substantial amount of money. I just wish our approval rate would be like the rain too; unrelenting and pouring in buckets.

I'm a child born out of the credit card business, literally and figuratively. Maybe it's time to broaden my horizons and not be limited by my profession?

In any case, wish me LOTS of luck. Tee hee.

Tell me your poison.

One of the reasons why I stay away from blogging sensitive topics, is that when I do, it's like opening a Pandora's Box. I feel like I've just spit out my heart and guts for everyone to see.

There's this feature you can activate, where you can get asked by someone on Tumblr, anonymously or not. And when I did, all hell broke loose and

Here's a screen cap

When I published this question from an anonymous source, I got a ton of Tumblr Asks and all of them came from anonymous sources.

Questions ranged from LGBT rights to how do I deal with same-sex relationships, to even skin care. I don't know if those anons are seriously reading my blog or they just want to set me up and see me fail. I still love Tumblr though. Anonymous TA's scare the shit out of me and sprains my brain sometimes.

I swear, last night, my brain did a back flip and a cartwheel trying to answer my anons truthfully and tactfully.

5 Centimeters Per Second

Do you know? The speed at which cherry blossoms fall… 5 centimeters per second. At what speed must I live... to be able to see you again?

Confusion.

As my eyes swell up and my nose fills with snot, I kept thinking about what me and my friend talked about in the coffee shop earlier. About what he was doing wrong in his life, which no one seems to care about his dwindling love life. He was blaming himself.

----

Does it always have to be something that's internally wrong, that's why we can't attract someone who we want?

I find it unfair to always find blame upon myself. I am just doing me and what I feel like doing. And I won't change anything for someone who I love. Well, that's what I used to think.

When you change for that someone, you lose a part of yourself and you may never ever find it again. You only change when you learn something; you will only want to change for the bond itself. And when that relationship ends, you'll lose whatever you put into it. Including your old self. What's worse, when both of you do and you look into the eyes of that person and find that he/she isn't there anymore. You can't recognize both of yourselves.

Change is constant, the hard part is, how to change for the better. It should be simultaneous and not just one-way in order for the relationship to grow. It's always that same give and take protocol that makes things work.

But in the end, when a relationship ends, two persons always get hurt. Only, one will hurt more than the other.

And now, I can feel my eyes start to hurt with this nonsense that I wrote. I can't even understand what I wrote because I'm half medicated. Do I even make a point?

Love is always this complicated for me. I hate cigarette smoke, it made me think this way again; always when I get an allergic attack.

Snot.

Spare me a piece of bread.

Okay, I have finally finished reading The Hunger Games thoroughly.

The buzz of the movie adaptation finally induced me to read it. I was actually surprised that it is good. It had the same vibe as Battle Royale, in which all the morbidity and gore are the things that get me hooked.

The story takes place in this dystopic, post-apocalyptic country called Panem. The Capitol controls everything, hence the name 'The Capitol.' Citizens of Panem are mandated where they would live in the 12 districts, they would be very lucky if they get in The Capitol. Why? Because it's the sole city where there is no poverty, no starvation and it is where The Hunger Games takes place.

Each year, 2 representatives, aging 12-18 years old, 1 boy and 1 girl from each of the 12 districts are picked to participate in The Hunger Games. They are called Tributes. They are to kill each other until only one survives the whole ordeal. And fight they will, for the Capitol will manipulate everything in the arena so that the Hunger Games will commence as planned and only one victor will stand. And so the battle starts with the sound of a gong and every kid was fighting for dear life. "May the odds be ever in your favor" is one the favorite things that the characters in the book like to say.

Several plot twists make the whole story quite interesting, but I will not be posting that because I might be spoiling the story for some of you.

After reading the whole book, I found out why the book is popular with kids. First, the main characters are 'tweens,' very much like the readers. The underlying theme of poverty and oppression also stirs up that rebellious nature inside of them. There's also a very cliche romantic twist a midst all the brutal killing, which I think kids these days will gobble up almost instantly. Suzanne Collins did a really good job making a story that could almost be at par with the Harry Potter series.

I like it because it's fairly easy to read. The narratives weren't vague and fragmented. It was a simple first person point of view, which is good. But even if it is, the story has depth and the "back-stories" have a certain amount of 'thickness' to it, so to speak. It will keep you reading on for more. The pacing is also very good too. Certain twists are not that predictable, but I find it cheesy and overused sometimes. Parts of the book really hits a nerve, I got depressed when one of the characters died. Pathetic as it may sound, but I just felt how Suzanne Collins want me to feel on that part of that book, in which I applaud her. She's done her job, or maybe I just became too emotionally attached to a fictional character. Haha.

All-in-all, I think people of all ages would read the series. I would very much want to see the movie now.

P.S. I would definitely die of starvation first before any of the tributes could have killed me.

The Prancing People at Eastwood.

I have met up with a few friends last night. Went to a fancy hotspot in the metro to dine and drink and chat all night. I had a nice time with them. Exchanged ideas about everything under the sun actually; blogging, celebrities, blogging celebrities, twitter wars, anthropology and so on and so forth. Our group is subtly gaining members which is a good thing. More points of views, more topics to discuss, more chika, more fun! I just don't have the audacity to list them down on my blog, I don't do that. And as far as I know, I think they can read this anyways. So, if you guys are reading this, LET'S DO IT AGAIN!

Speaking of which, one question from last night's tete-a-tete just lingered in my thoughts hours after we already parted our ways.


"Why do you keep on blogging?"


I started blogging when I was still in high school. I wanted to write down whatever what was on my mind. I didn't mind if no one was reading. I just wanted an avenue to be heard without shouting.

I write on 2 different platforms, Tumblr and Blogspot.

Like I said in my previous posts, I love Tumblr because it's where I can be hipster and post-modern, being an artsy fartsy person myself. I can post anything actually. And Tumblr is somehow turned into a social networking site due to its features, I can easily connect to my followers and make friends with them. The trends in Tumblr diminishes the "seriousness" of writing in blogs, which makes it really easy and relevant, because I still find it hard to express myself with beautifully written paragraphs or poems at times. I just post a picture, write a caption and voila! It's perfect. It may be petty at sometimes, but you'll be amazed at how some of the kids write things on their Tumblogs.

I write on Blogspot because it's where I can find a more mature audience. Bloggers I follow have this depth and substance that I really admire. They don't just post because of impulse, they write with structure. I seriously have to learn how to do that. When I compare my entries to some of the bloggers here, I get scared. I get intimated by their impeccable grammar and perfectly organized thoughts and wonderfully crafted poems. I rarely get to post something at par with theirs, which makes me want to write more. I may have a good grasp of the English language, but I honestly admit, I don't write as well as them. But, I like writing in Blogspot because it's where my ideas are silent but not unheard.

To simply put it, I think I just enjoy the best of both worlds.

P.S. I think I know what I want for summer, I want to become the next David Guison. HAHAHAHAHA

Love On Top

I want to become the only giant orb with the universe in it for you. A warm fuzzy feeling when you’re feeling down. To see all your dreams coming true would be eternally blissful for me.

Finally, you put my love on top.

Make up your mind fool!

Sometimes, saying “okay lang” is not so right. It feels lackluster and mediocre. Especially when you give someone choices and they reply “okay lang,” it’s like a big gray zone. You don’t really know what is in their mind and its annoying. What’s more annoying is that they blame you for making their decision for them.

In the English language ‘okay’ is used as an affirmation; in the more colloquial usage of ‘okay’ putting ‘lang’ after it makes it indefinite. Which is fucking annoying. If you use “okay lang” as an answer if you get asked “how are you doing?” then that is forgivable. But when you are given choices, its only answerable by yes or no or pick the one that you want.

It’s annoying!!! Like when I went to McDonald’s with my sister because we were both hungry. There was nothing in the fridge so we decided to go out, I asked her if she wants Jollibee or McDonald’s, she answered “okay lang.” And when I asked my sister if it’s alright with her while I was ordering up already and then she just bluntly answers: I like Jollibee eh.

Rage.

She could have just told me in the first place. I could have saved time and effort and enjoyed a meal with her at Jollibee. If only she made up her mind before we even got to McDonald’s.

So instead, I didn’t get her anything because she wanted Jollibee in the first place. It’s like teaching her that she needs to assert herself more and just because I get annoyed by how indecisive people get.

And remember, if ever you said “okay” to accept a task or a choice, make sure you stick to it. Don’t ever say “okay” if you’re still unsure, just tell ‘em “I’m not sure or I haven’t made my mind up yet” that way people will know and won’t assume that it’s alright.

No, It's Not Okay.

Addressing me as “bakla” in public really isn’t a case with me, but for some, maybe it is. For one, most of us who are gay didn’t choose to be like this. People think as if sexuality and sexual orientation (for a lack of a better word) is optional. It’s not. Mahirap maging bading, teh. Or to put it more accurately, Mahirap tanggapin na maging bading. It’s not like we had the benefit to turn our backs against the “normality” of heterosexuality. It’s not like we had to choose loving our own kind. Technically, there’s a big difference between choosing sexuality and embracing it, otherwise, they’d be with similar spelling in the dictionary. It’s hard being gay since we are caught in between, in between the prejudice of a narrow-minded society and the self, religion and the self, friendship and the self, heck! even there is conflict between the self and the self.

Let me repeat. It’s hard being gay. Don’t regard gay men with such harsh labels so easily when in actuality, admitting it to themselves that they are indeed “bakla” is (or was) hard enough. No. We do not deserve it.

—

If anyone deserves to call a gay man “bakla”, it’s another fellow gay man. They understand each other’s ordeals and hardships. There is no intent to demoralize or diminish one’s identity in this matter. If ever diminishing an identity was the intention, he’d only be diminishing his own in the process.

Moral? Huwag mong tawagin ang isang bading na “bading” kung ikaw naman mismo e hindi bading! Kasi pre, lumalabas e mas bading ka pa sa bading sa ginagawa mo. Hindi mo kilala ang kabuuan ng katauhan at kwento niya, e kinukutya mo agad. Hindi ba ito katangahan at kaduwagan?

*had to repost from a friend's tumblr.

2 Broke Guys

Now, before you start thinking that this is a porn post, I suggest that you watch 2 Broke Girls first. It is a sitcom about 2 girls doing everything to chase their dream. Basically, Max is the real broke girl and Caroline is the rich upper east sider who got broke when her dad, who is a filthy rich mogul, got incarcerated.

Max is currently employed as a waitress at a diner when she bumped into Caroline. Caroline had nowhere to go since all their properties we're re-po'd by the government because her father was convicted with plunder. So Caroline had to move in with Max and they fused up the idea of making cupcakes for a business. And the sitcom just continues on with that.

Back to the topic: Me and my friend also have this uncanny familiarity with the whole plot of the sitcom. We're just 2 guys in the Metro who are dreaming big and doing anything to get what we want. Well, without the whole re-po and plunder stuff.

As you know, I just got fired. I have submitted my resumes to a couple of companies that can hire me. I also got a reply from the tutoring job that one of my acquaintances referred me to. Then my tita referred me to an advertising company. So yes, I basically get in industries where I am not really familiar with, but I'll do the best that I can. A job is still a job and I'm thankful that I get hired even for just a short span of time. *insert meme here*

As for my partner, he recently quit his job at a local TV network. He got robbed a couple of days ago. He was also trying to book jobs at his previous advertising company. We promised to help each other; whatever job comes first, we will go for it.

And did I mention that he was the one who went to JP Morgan with me? We walked the whole stretch of McKinley because we were dumb with directions. Very apt. We're like the real life version of Max and Caroline, if you guys ever watch 2 Broke Girls.

This!

We're broke, we're young and we're taking over the world.

The Wonderful Misadventures of Danforth Thackeray

My washing machine bailed out on me. It just stopped working and started spewing soap bubbles. Mom would prolly get mad at me for breaking it, but I don’t care. I’m having fun with these bubbles.

Such a show of bravery from a marked prey. I know mom would rip me to shreds later.

If only life was as easy as blowing bubbles.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A week after my mom and I set up a new branch for our marketing group, we had to stop operations due to internal problems. Our business partner had issues with the leasing of the office space. So I basically moved 2 steel cabinets from our old office to this new one and then back again. I was also wondering how I was able to do it without getting squished by those heavy cabinets that was as big as me.

So yes, I'm back to being a bum again. Nothing new.

Hello dirty dishes and laundry, I have come back for you. We shall now be together forever.

And just in case you guys are wondering, Danforth Thackeray is my British alter-ego.

I Miss You

As I lay on my warm bed, my skin feeling sticky and sweaty, I exasperated. The hot air blowing from the fan brushes on my hair and face. The gentle droning of the fan is slowly lulling me to a deep slumber.

Somehow, the empty space beside me just feels so enormous. I felt longing and yearning, but there was no one. You were never there.

My skin prickles with something more than just yearning. My hands tried to mimic yours. It moved over my ticklish places; the ones that you love touching and kissing. I've always liked how my skin feels slippery after you kissed them.

I hugged my pillow as tightly as I can. The heat was getting more intense. My heart was racing and I was panting. I closed my eyes and imagined you were here, caressing my pale, sweaty and silky skin.

My groin felt ticklish and numb while I was lucidly dreaming about you. I felt my hands slipping and stroking. I was giving in.

My lips were as dry as the Gobi. I wet them while moaning. If only you could see how sad this scene was. These were the scenes that we were supposed to be doing together. You could see and feel how I miss you; how I lust for you.

I was burning against the orange-tinged sunset behind my window. I should always maintain my silent dignity, for it is the only thing that is left with me. I will wait, but I can't wait forever. Take me home, take me somewhere. I wanna to be with you.

And when the deed was done, I lay there wet and limp like a lily.

These are the languid vestiges of my sultry and lonely afternoons.

Scully Doesn't Know

Just because people like your posts, doesn’t mean you’re a genius. It just means you sound and seem like one, but in fact, there is no depth in your character. You’re as shallow as your posts are. Sad truth babydoll. You’ll never be a real blogger. I’ve seen more interesting pieces from 14 year-old girls.

Sincerely yours,
Your friendly neighborhood hipster.

XOXO

of Secret Societies and Microcosms

In a span of almost a year, I gained a ton of friends. It’s mainly because of tumblr or blogspot. Friends of friends got included in my social circles too. Over these past few months, my circle got exponentially bigger.

My high school friends, college friends, those who-I-dated-before-that-became-platonic-friends friends, friends of friends of friends, my sisters' friends, PR-friends-that-turned-out-to-be-bloggers, and more recently, tumblr friends & blogspot friends. Honestly, I am not that quite friendly to be exact, but how I made friends from outside my "comfort zone" is still is a big question mark for me. I usually don't make friends if I don't know people personally. So how my circles got this big, I don't know.

I’ve also noticed certain differences from those I’ve made friends with from tumblr and blogspot. I like them because I know I can relate to them, but sometimes they have these peculiar nuances that I seem to dislike a bit, but I know I can't complain, I don't have the right to. Besides, I still like them because they're really fun to be with and talk with. I enjoy their company A LOT.

Or maybe I'm just too... plastic? I don't know... LOL! I'm not saying that I am plastic, but I get along with people so quickly that it just seems so wrong. Hahaha.

In any case, it definitely is fun seeing how different they are from each other, yet they still feel familiar to me. If I could make a Venn Diagram of my friends -- the part where they would overlap, it would be pretty much, be... me.

Maybe the saying still goes.

“Tell me who your friends are and I’ll tell who you are.”

Crystal Castles - Not In Love ft. Robert Smith of The Cure

I saw your picture hangin' on the back of my door
won't give you my heart
no one lives there anymore
and we were lovers
now we can't be friends
fascination ends
here we go again
cause it's cold outside, when you coming home
cause it's hot inside, isn't that enough

I'm not in love

could it be that time has taken it's toll
won't take you so far, I am in control

and we were lovers
now we can't be friends
fascination ends
here we go again
cause it's cold outside, when you coming home
cause it's hot inside, isn't that enough

I'm not in love
I'm not in love
I'm not in love

we are not in love
we are not in love
we are not in love
we are not in love

Here's the kind of music that just keeps me sane actually. I'm a post-rock, post-punk, indie type of kid. Basically, hipster music at its finest. Not a lot of people listen to my kind of shit.

Hope you guys like it. 

Sensory Overload pt.2

"Okay na yan. Hehe.." SHIT MAN... I CAN'T COMPREHEND WHAT IS GOING ON.

"Ah ano candy?"

"Basta!!! Halika na, masarap to. Ang init eh." There was this glint in his eyes that just tells me to give in.

But my body heeded the call. It was like I was entranced by the pied piper of Hamelin.

I went inside their house, he invited me over to their couch. He turned on the fan and turned on the TV. I was sweating like a pig.

"Pawis na pawis ah. Hehe." AGAIN THAT SMILE AND TONE.

"Init eh... Hay..."

"Tamang tama... Eto oh..." Then things went on a total disaster.

Next thing I knew was, he was sucking. I was also sucking. It was long and hard. It was ecstasy. It was intense. It was totally unexpected. It got me pinned down and I was on full surrender.

"Sarap ba?"

"Ay naman... Kulang pa?"

"Oo eh, gusto ko pa...." like he was begging for more. OH MY FUCKING GOD

"Eh wala na ko barya. 3 pesos lang pera ko."

"Ay bitin pa ko... Libre kita..."

He pulled out more Ice Pops.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Turns out, he was a new neighbor. He doesn't know I'm gay. He thinks I'm straight and shit. Well that's because I never go out of our house ever since I bloomed into a full blown flower. And when I do go out, I made sure I walked with swag so no one would ever dare ask me questions.

I don't know if he knows this but he's being all too delicious. LOL!

He was an engineer, he's about my age, he plays basketball and volleyball. He just wanted to make new friends. Well I'm not exactly that friendly especially around our neighborhood, but I made an exception. LOL.

Anyways, there was nothing, really. It was just a weird car accident that happened.

The summer heat has seeped inside my brain and melted it like ice cream.

Sensory Overload

It was hot as hell when I woke up. I was covered in sweat and so was my sheets. It felt different that day, like some sort of a weird car accident waiting to happen.

I went down to do Yoga and my morning routine. I prepared a bowl of oatmeal and bananas for breakfast. I tried to turn the TV on but to no avail, it didn't. I checked on my electric fan, it wasn't working either. Dad forgot to pay the electric bill and our service got cut before I even woke up.

I lied on the couch and manually fanned myself. It wasn't working. I thought to myself: maybe a bath will do the trick. And so I did.

I wore a very loose shirt and very short boxers. It was sort of a relief but I found myself fanning again after an hour.

Then I decided to get out of the house. Quite the wrong move actually. It was friggin' hotter outside with the sun beaming down me like there's no tomorrow. I had to wear longer shorts because my legs would stun everyone in the outside world. I looked for shade, I ran to the store.

To my amazement, the guy who was manning the store was cute. He was short, fair and had a very nice set of teeth. He has this very confident air about him and he knows it. Fuck, he's cute!!! Then the weirdest thing DID happen.

"Ano bibilihin mo? Ang init init ah. Ano gusto mo?" in a very you-know-you-want-me-or-it kind of way while he was sheepishly smiling.

I was speechless, I didn't know how to react. I WAS STUMBLING. For someone who deals with all sorts of people and for someone who has swagger, I was failing.

"Ah wala naman... Meron bang palamig? Haha..." I was trying to feel my pockets if I had any change with me. I had  about 3 pesos?

Then, he nodded. He stared at the very puzzled looking kid(me) and began to smirk.

"Halika dito, may iaalok ako sayo." he was smirking like he is on to something.

OH FUCK, WHAT NOW?!!!


"Uh, thanks na lang. Uuwi na ko. Naputulan kasi kami ng kuryente. Hindi nabayaran ni Daddy eh. Mukang tanga lang ako sa bahay." Woops... Why was I telling him details about my life?!!!

"Ah, san ka ba nakatira? Marunong ako mangalikot ng mga kuntador. Tatanggalin ko lang yung wire na kinakabit para tumigil yung ikot ng metro." He seemed to become more interested with the fact that we had no electricity. Oh good...

"Ay wag na po, pinabayaran ko na kay Daddy yun. Baka magkaroon na kami ulet ng kuryente."

"Naku nag cut-off na kaya, baka sa Monday pa ikabit ulet yan."

"Ah ganun ba? Hmm, eh wala ako pangbayad sayo. Wala parents ko, tsaka pumasok sa school mga kapatid ko."

"Hindi sige okay lang yan, mahilig lang talaga ako mangalikot... Hehe..." That just sounded so wrong on many levels...


He called on their house-help to man the store for him.


So I decided to let him tinker with the meter. We live in an apartment handed down by my paternal grandmother and the meter was not inside the house per se, so I guess it was quite safe. I think he might kill me or steal something inside our house or worse, HE MIGHT RAPE ME...(?)

I went inside the house to check if the service was back. I tried to switch the lights on, it flickered and turned off again. CRAP!!!


"Putangina, nawala, ano na nangyari?!" I yelled

"Try mo i-reset yung circuit breakers sa loob ng fuse box niyo."

"Okay...?" I panicked because I have no idea where our fuse box is. I just thought, I'll just tough it out. I don't want to invite him inside our house.

"Nahanap mo ba?"

"Hinde..."

"Pasok ako ha, tulungan kita..." and he came barging in while I was holding on to my flashlight like it was a sword.

He found the fuse box inside our cupboards, only he wasn't able to reach it... HA!!! LOOK AT YOU NOW Mr. HIGH AND MIGHTY. So, in the end, I was able to reset the circuit breakers and the electricity was running again. Thanks to my height advantage over him. I felt more macho than him. Nikki - 1, Him - 0.

"Wow, ikaw na matangkad." He commented.

"HAHAHA, pungok ka lang." I laughed out.

"Salamat ah, nanglait pa. Ikaw na nga tinulungan."

"Aw, sorry dude. Haha." Then he disarmed me again with that smile.

"Oh dapat bayaran mo na ko. Penge ako tubig."

"Hindi kaya malamig, nawalan kaya kami ng kuryente..." I said sarcastically.

"Ay oo nga, punta ka muna sa tindahan namin. Libre mo ko. Hehehe." WAIT WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO DO?


"Ha?! 3 piso na lang pera ko. Sabi ko sayo wala akong pambayad." 

***to be continued***

Bohemian Bellaroca

Summer is fast approaching, there's already this slight hint of sultriness in the afternoons. Something inside of me is welling up fast and tumultuous.

Everything about summer feels so lively and energetic that I feel light and airy myself.

My friends and I are planning to get a vacation in Bellaroca. In fact, we already thought of it last year, it's just that we didn't have enough money that time. I just had left work about a year ago. Now, I am making sure that I do get to a beach, even if its not in Bellarocca. Just any beach outing/weekend would do.

I just miss the sand under my feet, shifting and sliding. The ticklish searing heat of the sun on my "anemic" skin is a treat too.

Speaking of which, I need to go and get my summer bod again. I need to call on my Anorexia Nervosa and the willpower to jog, do some Yoga poses and a 30-minute toning workout. It's like preparing for a casting call and photoshoot again, but honestly, I just want to go to a beach where I can swim without being called "Marshmallow."

Last summer, Boracay was spectacular. I wasn't able to enjoy it fully though because I had to take care of my cousin(and the gadgets.) I just spent the whole 3 days walking to and from our hotel in station 2, to the grotto and then back again. Imagine this: it's like walking down on a runway, only to find out there are guys(?) who look better than you while you just parade around like you don't give a fuck.Went on Facebook to update and post pics, got my hair done in cornrows, rode the banana boat, went on a weird trip around the island. I got to drink, but not party. No fooling around, no silly business. My kind of thing actually.

I now have the motivation to earn: to be on a vacation on my own means.

The question is, who's gonna go with me?

Shit that Nikki says

Been quite busy these past 2 weeks. I had to man my upscale halo-halo station for my sister's research project. The aim was to be like Ice Monster or Cerealicious, but the people around our neighborhood are not well versed with those kind of products. At the end of the week, we lost about 178.30 pesos in capital. It's a flop, but we (especially my sister and her group mates) learned a lot.

I also applied at JP Morgan and Chase and got declined within the day. Fantastic. I kinda realized that the I would wither away with the daily commute to their office. I think of it as a blessing in disguise (yes this is me not being bitter about it).

Then I helped out with my granny's 75th birthday. Talk about a party with "she-bang." We bought lechon, pichi-pichi, cake, ice cream. We cooked fried chicken, spaghetti, pansit palabok, maja blanca, and an assortment of grilled fish. We rented out a karaoke machine. I sang my heart out - I got freaking 100 when I sang Dynamite by Taio Cruz and freaking 87 when I sang Animal by Neon Trees, which I think is so wrong. We drank 5 different bottle of white wine. Happiness. I got into a tickle fight with my cousins, then they inevitably puked afterwards from too much laughing.

Did I say I drank a lot of white wine? When the party ended, I ninja-d my way back to the karaoke machine and sang more songs.

I guess, when I'm doing a lot of things, that's when I feel contented. I can feel the grip of loneliness and depression unfasten on me. I feel lighter and happier when I'm constantly on the move. Maybe all I needed was a diversion from all the spare time of brooding and self-pitying. And I felt a kind of release when  my mom finally read my letter.

Am I gonna be writing my own version of Eat, Pray, Love now?

Heck no.

Prompt

Ah well, they sure are prompt when answering their emails.

Poopie.

I was really banking on this one too...

Darn it!

Kakayanin Ser!

ETO NA! YAYAMAN NA BA AKO?

*note time and date of screenshot LOL

Panata

Inside the majestic National Shrine of Our Lady of Lourdes

So yeah, I went to our annual "Panata" of attending the grand procession with my high school friends. I forgot to bring my digicam so the pictures are eew.

Back when we were in high school, it's an obligation to attend the grand procession. It counts as an absence on your records if you didn't attend it.

Me and my friends have developed the habit of doing it annually. I can't explain why, but we enjoy walking, uttering the rosary and catching up with each other's lives in between.

I remember wearing leather shoes and my aching feet after walking 3 hours nonstop. We were required to wear our school uniform, because technically it was a school function. But when we got in college, we still did it, of course we were wearing more comfy clothes. I don't know we like to make ourselves suffer by doing it over and over again every year.

Maybe because when I was in high school, I was happy. There is no comparison to it versus college life and the life after college.

I got home a few minutes before 12 midnight. The procession started around 6pm and was finished around 9:30pm. We ate at our favorite McDonald's in D.Tuazon around 10pm, had ice cream sundae in Jollibee Mayon around 11pm.

I feel fulfilled even though my legs and knees feel like jello.

Fun day indeed. :)

Time Capsules

I wanted to put songs in my new iPod. The old one got recalled and replaced by Apple. I got this email telling me that the 1st gen nano's have some program glitches that's why they are replacing them. I got my 1st gen 5 years ago, it only had 1gb of memory and since it served its purpose for 5 years, the battery life sucks. I named my first nano Haven.

Haven became my companion when I was still in college. I filled her up with my collection of JPop songs, but most importantly, my archive of Utada Hikaru's songs. I had her full discography inside Haven. It's like I'm traveling with my handy paradise every time I slap on my earbuds and listen to my favorite songs.

When I had my Nokia E63, I had to give Haven to my little sister. I remember backing up all of the songs in a flash drive before handing her over to my sister. I also made sure that I had the original CD's, that I have stopped eating lunches back in college just to buy them. So I guess, I had about 3gb's of JPop songs when I graduated college. Back then, I think I had the most diverse and complete collection among my JPop friends.

When I graduated, I got my E63 and gave Haven to my sister. She immediately reformatted Haven, I cringed for a bit, but I know I backed up all my music in a flash drive. I also gave my sister E63 when I got my new phone that I've worked hard for. Hand-me-downs are how we survive. LOL.

I got this email from Apple, I checked it out and it seemed legit. So yeah, I asked my sister to give Haven back so I could use it again, since she already has a phone that could store and play music. I sent Haven without the data cable and the earphones. They just asked for the unit.

I got my new nano back 2 days ago. I got it without any accessory or whatsoever. It looked very shiny and the controls are already touch-based. It's tinier than ever. It has 8gb's of storage and it's super cute. I named her Parlodel, because I'm crazy.

I wanted to put songs in Parlodel. I tried to look for my archives, but yeah, I can't find it anymore. Our house has this innate ability to make things disappear when it gets stored somewhere inside this tiny apartment, just like my diplomas.

I almost cried silently out of sheer disappointment and anger.

All of the hours of searching and downloading, all of the lunch money that I didn't spend on lunch, all the trouble of labeling, sorting and backing up each of my 2,000+ songs just went poof. I couldn't find the CD's nor the flash drive.

I felt like a part of me just got forgotten and abandoned. The songs that got me through college just vanished amidst all the junk and years of hoarding things inside our house.

Those songs were my bread and butter each and everyday of my college life. I have much respect and love for the artists that became my inspiration. And then I just can't find them anymore. 10 years of Japanese Pop, Rock and Visual Kei, I survived college because of them.

I am frustrated because some of the songs that I had were very hard to find and then SOPA would just make it impossible to search for them now. I'll just do my best to bring back whatever that I can still find.

I'll just rebuild my time capsule and make sure I would find it again one day when I feel the need for it.

Lesson learned, I guess.

And Parlodel just almost had her first fall last night. UGH!!!

Weekend Fail

Last Friday, me and a friend tried applying for a job at JP Morgan & Chase Co. in Bonifacio Global City. Apparently, the one who referred us to her company gave us a very inaccurate scheme on how to get there without fuss. So I tried my best not to get lost. Halfway through, we just lost our way and ended up traversing the whole of McKinley from EDSA to the recruitment hub.

I was tired as fuck after we have traveled literally on foot. Thank heavens, my friend decided to treat me to dinner just to console me. I could have bitchslapped her then and there, but yeah, I kept calm and poised as always (Although, I was sure I threw a few cusses and swears at her at some point when I was frantically calling her non stop.)

After a very brief dinner date with her, the "referror," we opted to go and chill out somewhere (Tomas Morato, duh?!). P came by and we played DoTA yet again. We went home tired and frustrated that night.

Saturday night, I went with P to a blogger meet up. Met up with the very animated group of bloggers at Harbor Square in CCP Complex. Ate dinner at KFC (yes, because we're very posh) and headed to Starbucks. After we finished our "drinks" they wanted a different kind of drink and honestly I was game for it after all the fail I went through last Friday.

So yeah, we headed to Malate. I was expecting that it would be fun and all, but oh dear, I think my jaw dropped 20 times. (O-bar, that pink ominous sign...) Then P was a little uncomfortable and then we decided to pull away from the group. We had to cut the fun short and we had to apologize for being party poopers, but it wasn't our kind of thing.

Yeah, P and I like to go to bars but not the kind where there are gyrating half-naked bodies all around and there are the judging eyes. I have the innate ability to be oblivious to all the unwanted attention but P is just not comfortable with the whole set up. So there, we had to go somewhere else.

We strolled around the shady parts of Manila, I was scared for dear life. We decided to back to Tomas Morato and play DoTA as usual. 4 fucking rounds and we didn't even win a single one. GODFUCKINGDAMMIT!!!

Oh well, weekend fail indeed.

On a lighter note, I am gonna sell Halo-Halo for my sister's research project. 200 bucks per day for only 5 days, not bad right?

Hello God(?) Are you still there?