Post-Davao Round up.

I wore black going to Davao. felt the needed to. I was also the last person to step off the bus. Funny, because I worked my ass so much even if it meant taking for granted everything but when harvest came, the fruits felt pointless.
For 2 weeks, I goofed around just to convince myself that I everything was bearable. But that can only do so much. Certain things still bothered me. I still had those dreaded moments. had insomnia. took a bath 4-5 times a day. badly needed alcohol.
Then I broke down. People thought Davao was fun and I did too, until I realized that for the whole duration of my stay the only time I had fun was when me and my roomies had a singing session and the weekend breather. I’m not even sure if I liked it there. I don’t know. Breaking down felt better.

bleed 4 u

I'm not OK

Every time I come home I break down- and nobody has to know, except now of course that I talk openly about it here. Maybe because years ago I fell in love and got burned. But lately I realized that love has a habit of coming back. I'm feeling things I shouldn't be feeling again. I don't want to acknowledge this. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever. And it's killing me- because we're so close and miles apart. I'm trying to get rid of it in my system. Somehow I'm getting there. Sometimes I relapse. And I beak down again, fall apart, telling the world I"m perfectly fine. The truth is I'm not- because I'm in love.

midnight shopping

as one of the first loyal harry potter fan (even before the movie came out; and as i remember only 3 of my classmates including i in our freshman year in high school read it before the BIG HYPE), i would not miss the first opportunity to get my hands on those books, which leads us to my caprice. i decided to try to buy the book @ midnight, and of course...

b1tching moment

June 21st: this day was supposed to be very rosy. i was looking forward to end summer school and start my true summer (and how coincidental it was technically the 1st day of summer). after finals, i felt very optimistic mainly because my gut told me that i was getting a good grade--my gut was right--i got a 90! but before i knew that i was in a bar with some friends celebrating our triumph over our evil teachers for passing the summer session. when i got out, my bag was stolen from one of my friend's car. if you may ask what was in it, nothing valuable--at least financially speaking--there was my book (i think it's fairly expensive), my mp3, and my planners. now surprisingly i dont care about my book. i cared more for the planners!!! first of all i was very diligent in keeping my planners for three consecutive years and this was the 4th. what i valued most was the freaking picture and hair of my danaan lass.

Save Our Ship

I'm going home again this weekend. I'll have trouble finding time to do my laundry after but that doesn't matter anymore. Kidding. It will, after I come back, of course. After going home last week, I just got the bug. It's not budget-friendly but definitely better than my impulse drinking and smoking- especially now that my lips aren't that red anymore. That could have been my whole claim to fame but I blew it. Like, totally.

Crowds makes me feel lonely as usual. And no, my self-appreciating mantra is just not that effective anymore. Like, having a high acquiline nose helps! I'm sorry but I'm not that shallow. Why not tell me I take good pictures rather than looking good on those? That'll help.

I got badged last week. Oh, wow, great. How sarcastic can I be? A badge will never change the fact that I no longer like going to school. And what would I tell to my parents? That I don't really know what to do with my life? Or how I want to live a reclusive life, isolated from civilization? Or my dreams of being the next host of Lonely Planet? Like, they would understand!
So this weekend, I'm going to my comfort zone. That's the only thing that helps me right now.

MTV Ayos!

I wish I was young again, carefree and uncaged from my harsh realities. I miss being 8, when my problem was not my failing grades but my mother's threat of cutting off our cable connection just because my so-called friend of mine told her how addicted I was to the channel. This friend, asked me who the Artist of the Month was at that time leading to my enumeration of all the predecessors and just about everyone. That was how my mom knew that MTV was not just a mere hobby but a life for me. She always brought up my addiction every time we fought. She accused it as the reason why I wasn't doing good in school, why I seemed distracted all the time, and why I always forgot things.

My parents never understood how I felt. Nobody could. MTV was my comfort zone. The vj's, videos, everything as long as it had its logo put on it were my friends. Everything. All day I dreamed of being a vj, introducing videos, be wacky, travel places, basically do cool stuffs. Being a vj was the coolest job on earth. I imagined myself being in those videos. I wanted to be look up to. I somehow even memorized all the show's timeslots and deciphered that MTV's programming ran a cycle of 8 hours a day.
MTV felt home. I had my own world with it. The world outside could have been crumbling without me feeling a thing as long as I was glued on MTV. I was an addict and I was really proud. It made me fell special, a little weird but special. It wasn't everyday grown-ups met music video savvy kids. It gave me an inflated sense of hipness those other kids don't really care about. For all I care I didn't need appreciation from kids of my age. All I need was my MTV fix. I wish I could be that kid again, the kid that didn't have to worry about failing grades, that kid that didn't really have to worry about anything other than his dose of MTV.

masakiton

toinkz,.. i've been sick for three days now, with nothing to enjoy myself with but the fantastically flat and uniform ceiling. nice noh? my allergies are acting up again! aay, lagot!! i can only wish that my tastebuds would forever ban the idea of seadfood,. T_T...tsktsk,.. bakit bah masarap ang bawal?.. well,. naa na ko sa recovery stage,. but still impaired ang mobility..T_T..

The Real World... you never saw.

I was in 4th grade when I tried to audition for an MTV reality show. I didn't make it into the final cut. I didn't make it ti any cuts either. I don't think that MTV cared about a 10-year-oldpre-pubescent boy auditioning for a show whose mother channel's targer market are those 18-25.
8 years later, here I am caught in a situation I wanted to dive upon as a kid. The only difference now is that I don't want to be here. Yes, we're 7 in the house. Yes, we're strangers. Bot NO, this is not an MTV production. Like Bo bice's debut, this is The Real Thing.
Since I'm one of the "cast" (and this is my blog) and this isn't China, I have every right to air my views on the internet. So allow me to share some interesting tidbits, biased informations, and blasphemous accusations worthy of Mike Arroyo's libel suit. And since I'm always abot to blow up despite the tranquility mantra I'm doing and all, let me drop the bomb. gently.
A show wouldn't do well without its villains, right? So lets just say I'm expanding the definition of patronage by paying tribute and honoring them as A Border's Nightmare: The Gruesome Threesome. Unfortunately for them, I don't budge. Hey, I'm no Survivor 2s resident devil, Jeff Varner fan for nothing! And thankfully for them, they have gotten a little softer since new year. Weird. Like having Paris Hilton not having sex. So I try to put on a smile to reciprocate their fakeness. Talk things I don't really care about just to be civil. I no longer mind the noise they're making, no longer cleaning up the mess they're leaving... basically being them.
But in a way, just by being fake and being the person that I don't like, I'm starting to enjoy life in the house. As long as I don't wake up to noise or earthquakes when in it was just my housemate jerking off.

El Terible

Before the world had come to know the guy with his face printed on almost all t-shirts; Che Guevarra, he covered the entire length of Latin America first, armed only with his bestfriend and his motorcycle. His motorcycle eventually gave up (but his bestfriend didn't). The result, they sure did traveled a lot.

If it weren't for that journey, would we have come to know the Che we think of in everu revolution of sorts and, of course, t-shirts? NO dick. No. That journey made him. It was when he flirted with sisters, stole liquors, "coveted" thy neighbor's wife that he found himself. It was also in that journey that he saw poverty, gave money to the needy, didn't give that money to his bestfriend who intended to use it to avail sexual services, played soccer with lepers, swam across a river, and became a symbolic bridge between those that are considered normal and to those that are ostracized by the society.

I would definitely raise eyebrows, but I think I'm going through the same things Che had. Or not. Or maybe something like it. Maybe I'm just not the normal kid I always was. I feel terrible everytime I see poor people slaving thimselves under the sun when I lay under the sun concerned on my tan. I feel terrible everytime I see kids walking several kilometers just to get education when I don't really pay that much attention to my teachers. I feel terrible everytime I see people staring at me, looking ignorant, seeing things they may never be avail to have when I'm obsessed about the things I want to have and clothes I want to wear. I feel terribel when I see a family walking because the cannot afford to pay the fare of the habal-habal when I'm sitting comfortably inside the car cussing why the air con is still broken.

Unlike Oprah, I don't have a God-complex. I can't give hundreds of Pontiac sedans. I can just be me. And just like what Che may had felt, I just feel terrible.

ice craze

this morning, my tummy was screaming for food.
there wasn't a queue, so i ended up ordering
a really quick choice of a value meal, which
included spag, a coke, and a burger. hahay,.
sa katugnaw sa panahon, i asked pa jud for
coffee jelly.. haha,. i wa just sitting down
when i noticed everyone else had their hot
drink. haha,. i felt a little uncomfortable
having an ice-filled cup of coke, and a ice craze..
haha,.. last week pa man gud unavailable palagi
ang coffee jelly,.. so namiss naq xa.. ahehe,.
fave q kc.. weeeh..!!! bahalag tugnaw,. para
lang sa ice craze.. haha.. ice craze jud diay..