Entries for December, 2004
December 1st, 2004
The \"My Story Poke\" thing . . . POSTED AT 10:00 AM Yes, well. I had to slash out chapter two first, because I have too much to do. So here's the first chapter, which will soooo leave you hanging, Jackie. Yes. It will. So if you don't wanna die of suspense, don't read, kay???? Kay . . . ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Jackie and I walked into a restaurant. It was nine forty-one a.m. on a sunny Saturday morning. Drew had invited me for coffee, I asked if I could bring a friend, he agreed, we set the time and date, and . . . tada! “Are you sure this is the place?” She asked me, fretting nervously, subconsciously fiddling with the loose fringe of her top. She had opted for that “classily cool” look, most probably to impress. I mean, hey, she wouldn’t wanna look like a tramp in front of her crush—or a suman. “Positive. What’s with the neurotic insecurity?” I turned to her, getting a bit peeved. She had barely spoken on the way here, probably rehearsing some last-minute Hello-I’m-Jackie-And-I-Love-You lines in her head. Or wondering if there was something green and leafy stuck between her teeth. She was paranoid. Now, usually, this wouldn’t bother me one bit, because I could relate to the person, but today, for some odd, inexplicable, ineffably and utterly mystifying reason, I was getting annoyed. Issues? Nah. By way of answer, she bit her lip and surveyed the place. There were scarcely any people here, probably the reason why Drew chose it—he didn’t want any obsessed teen fans jumping in the way and just . . . screaming. Like last time. I winced inwardly as a full recollection of it hit me right in the chest. Ooh, Drew had his ears covered for the next hour and a half . . . Probably another reason why he chose this place was the rather welcoming atmosphere. There were beautiful blue-and-green tiles, millefiori wallpaper, smooth, white tablecloths and a simply soothing, raw aura to the place. “Nervous.” Jackie said hurriedly, “Very, very, very, very nervous.” I was getting a bit miffed. “I'm about to meet the love of my life!” her voice dropping significantly to a loud whisper, but still unheard. I wondered if that was practiced. “I mean, how many times do you get to do that, man?” “Uh-huh. Right. So excited.” I had to roll my eyes. It was just . . . getting to me! “I just had to suggest that Drew meet up with—” I was abruptly cut off at Jackie’s shrill but inaudible squeak. Her finger shot out. “That’s him! Oh my God!” I followed where her finger pointed to with my gaze, and sure enough, it swept over to Drew, who was sitting, relaxed, in a chair, dressed in a tight red shirt and jeans. For some reason, he was one of the few people that could pull that look off. I could hear the sound of her hyperventilating, and quipped a nice, brief, “Don’t have an aneurysm—jeez.” We strode over to the table, me still rolling my eyes, a hyper, hyper, hyper Jackie at my side, practically bouncing in her shoes. “Hey, Drew.” I did that hug thing and stepped aside as Drew and Jackie locked eyes for the first time, just like, I figured, in her daydreams. And that was it. “Drew, this is Jackie.” I said, sweeping my hand over to her as the slowest but cutest, overjoyed smile crept over her face. Her eyes were practically glowing. “Jackie, Drew.” I gestured back to him. She slowly extended her hand, and he mirrored the action. After what seemed like an eternity, they finally touched and shook hands. God, I loved playing naughty little cupid. “I’m your biggest fan. How’re you?” she said with all the reserved coolness of a dignified queen. “No, really, she is.” I interjected. “No, really.” Drew’s eyebrows shot up. “Really?” Jackie nodded, her smile still completely there. Oh my God, everything’s moving in slow motion, I thought, rolling my eyes as they continued to shake hands. But it wasn’t really a case of muscular dystrophy that prompted the unhurried movement. It was more of that shocked, interested, love-at-first-sight, I’m-still-taking-in-the-fact-that-there-is-a-God look that the leads of every movie are forced to share to create that instant-chemistry effect. Okay, so I’m just a sucker for a romance/drama/angst movie. Sue me. He was about a head taller than her, staring down, both seemingly lost in each others’ eyes . . . Oh my God! What is wrong with me? I’m writing like a steamy-romance-novel writer! Eew! I’m exorcising myself first thing tomorrow! But for now . . . hehehe . . . And then Drew cut the silence. “Well, Allen’s told me all about you.” He himself grinned, probably making Jackie’s heart melt even more. She was putty in his hands. Oh Gawd . . . “Really?” she turned her attention away from Drew, with conscious effort, and her stare fell on me. The look said it all. “What did you tell him about me?” Dawson’s Creek . . . Dawson’s Creek . . . Dawson’s Creek . . . My steady and equally intense gaze calmed her. Her eyes fell back on Drew, softening at once. “Mmhmm. Yep.” He said in that distinctly Drew manner of his. “Why don’t you have a seat?” Because she’s head-over-heels in love with you? I thought. Yeah, I was a ball-buster, antagonista asshole. I couldn’t help it. But I was totally pro Jackie-Drew. “Okay,” she said, quickly nabbing the seat opposite Drew, something both he and I noticed, and we shot each other the quarter-second long glance that said, ‘Did you catch that?’ Ally McBeal . . . Ally McBeal . . . Ally McBeal . . . Oh yeah. But then the understanding came back in his eyes. She was in love. He was the object of her love. He couldn’t do a goddamn thing about it. Oh well. I take the seat beside him, and we begin to chat. “So . . .” she began, “what’s up?” He looked aside, did another patented-Drew thing with the ‘nothing/I dunno/I guess’ feeling exuding from him. “Not much. Got up this morning, did the basic routine, went over here and . . . met you! Jackie wasn’t shaken. “Yeah, uh . . . same here!” Before anything else could ensue, the waiter appeared, took our orders and left, instantaneously cutting off our lines of thought. My cappuccino, Drew’s decaf and Jackie’s tuxedo strawberry-topped tiramisu appeared before anything else was said. Okay, if Jackie tried the vamp thing with the strawberry . . . ick. Luckily she didn’t, but Drew looked equally distracted, staring open-mouthed at her as she consumed the cake, licking what little was not placed in her mouth off of her lips. She was unintentionally turning him on. Oh my God, The Bold and the Beautiful! “What?” she tossed her hands up, exasperated, when she saw Drew just staring at her. She waved her hands in front of his face when she didn’t automatically get an answer. “Drew? Hello!” “What, uh, what?” he shook his head to clear his thoughts, a bit startled. “Nothing.” “Riiiiight . . .” she trailed, slowly nodding, staring at him rather suspiciously. A bunch of psycho-terrorists chose that moment to enter and hold the restaurant hostage. Okay, this? This is just Boston Public/NYPD Blue/Third Watch. “Ay nako! Why couldn’t I have a single friggin day normal?” I cursed at the ceiling. The terrorists approached our table. 2 freed the words
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December 1st, 2004
Obsession with Zelda . . . POSTED AT 12:25 PM Here's how it happened: At first, I was invited to my friend's house for his birthday party celebration. He had a game cube and everyone just started to play it. He chose the game Super Smash Bros. which I remembered from my OTHER friend's house. At first, I didn't play, cos I was just blah to it, but then, I thought, hey why not. So I got down to business. And chose Zelda because Raffy had raved about it for quite a while, and I recalled the whirly-chain-whip thing that Zelda got going the first time I witnessed her kick mighty poke-ing ass. So I used her. And then I discovered that lovely teleport-out-of-the-way-and-your-opponents-get-hurt trick, so I started using that and pissed everyone off. (Putang ina! Teleport ng teleport! Tama na nga diyan!) And then i discovered that press-B-as-Zelda and use the shield/spikey-lozengey-shapes. So I used that. And THEN, I pressed down-B to see if I could do a crouched attack, and voila!!!! I turned into Shiek. Then there was the whole chain-whip thing that pissed everyone off as well (they were completely immobilized until someone came up behind me and hit me). I wond second place. Seven. Times. Whooooppeeeeeee. I just saw Life Poke. Reading: Pride and Prejudice pa rin, fuck it. Listening to: Wag na Wag Mong Sasabihin by Kitchie Nadal Feeling: complacent |
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December 3rd, 2004
Spliced Multi-entries POSTED AT 05:10 AM ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Camille, I'm really sorry Benji's gay, but that shouldn't get you down! ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- There has been no school for two straight days now, and there won't be until Sunday. So unexpected four day weekend! Whee!!! ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Miracles do happen. Some aren't so good, though. Like: Jackie doubting her love for Drew. Yeah, it's totally unbelievable. How on Earth could she ever doubt it? it's all because of those Hanson brothers (no offense, Adrienne). *flashback* Jackie: Okay, here's something so unbelievable, it's not possible. Really. (pauses for me to digest it) I'm having a hard time deciding between the Zach & Taylor and Drew. Me: (not exactly shocked, pauses) Okay . . . (more banter ensues. It ends like this) Me: Which one do you want? Jackie: (whimpers) Drew . . . Me: So get your downloads, view them and decide which one Drew looks hot in . . . blah, blah, blah . . . (pause) Jackie: Right . . . You sound very gay. *end of flashback* See? Thank you, Jackie. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Name Acronym Generator From Go-Quiz.com ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The world seems to have something against Jerry Yan's music. So I will make this clear to ALL of you Jerry-haters that are all surprised that I like to lisen to his music. I DON'T GIVE A SHIT. And whether you like it or not, I will continue to listen to it. So there. Ai zai ji yi de pin tu li Ling yi ge cheng shi li wo zheng zai xiang nian ni E yong ni xie ri ji Mei yi ge zi dou you yi yi Suffer the wrath of Memory Pieces!!!!!!!!!! Blahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaaa!!!!!!! ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Haaaaaaaaaaay. I envy Catherine. I just recently visited her Blue-Aura blog, and all her entries were all introspective and sensible and reflective. Who has the patience to write like that? Mine are all just nasty and straightforward. I envy her drive and meticulousness. That she can pay attention to such tiny things, but still be able to pay attention to the bigger picture--a new breed of O.C. That she can express herself so thoroughly, that she can say write what's on her mind and others can so completely relate to it. Well, crap. What the hey. Listening to: Easy-Breezy by Utada Hikaru Feeling: wistful |
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December 3rd, 2004
Little disgusting episode . . . POSTED AT 05:55 AM C.L.E. period: Me: (bored/nostalgic) Hey, I remember reading this passage in the bible, “Man must not waste his seed upon the ground.” Evan: (obviously miffed and unnerved) Yeah . . . Me: (pause, waiting for explanation, realizes he won’t be getting one unless he prods so . . .) What does it mean? Evan: (pause, not comfortable, disbelieving stare) Do you know what a “seed” is? Me: (obviously not getting what he’s implying) Yeah, it’s something that you plant into the Earth so that it’ll grow. Evan: The Earth is a womb. (hinting) Me: (not getting it) Yeah. And? Evan: (pauses, waiting for me to catch on. Finally, after realizing that I won’t, just gives the answer.) The seed is a term for semen. Me: (shaken) What?! Evan: Yeah. It means you shouldn’t masturbate. Me: (thinks, gets it) Seed . . . on the ground . . . oh. Okay. Evan: Yeah. (pause)(I turn away) ...................................... EEW!!! . Listening to: Natasha Bedingfield's Feeling: DISGUSTED |
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December 3rd, 2004
This thing I owe Jackie POSTED AT 06:06 AM So anyway, here's the thing. (she ain't got no internet so she ain't gon be readin this anytime soon . . .) Please feel free to comment. Reviews are food for a muse! ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The room around me was stark with dulled light, but somehow softened by the clean, white tones of the surrounding furniture and walls. The only light came in from the street lamps outside, and even then, my room was at a trajectory that bent it at its focus. The single-bed suite that was chosen for me was rather fancy, with its large “bedroom” space, the living room-ish set, complete with office desk, potted plant and scribble pad, and the couch just in front of the drapes. I stared into the glyph-like painting on the shelf. Such work was known for creating the illusion of movement, even when there wasn’t any. And I was completely bored. At four in the morning, I had nothing else to do, so I stayed half-awake, staring ahead into the familiar spaces between the cracks in the display cabinet. I had been staying in this hotel for more than a month already for my vacation in New York, and this time, it was one that I cherished. For the get-together that I was planning, room service would be ordered again, and I would most probably have special attention paid to the preparation of the food—it had to have nothing that I was allergic to. Getting up, I fully intended to make use of the twenty-four hour café downstairs, and spent the next half hour getting ready. After the mandatory morning-shower, brushing my teeth, getting dressed, etc . . ., I was finally ready, and at five thirty was on my way downstairs. The café was sweet smelling, what with the calming, refreshing scent of chocolate cake mingled with the aromatic fragrance of freshly brewed coffee. I reclined into a select table that gave me a great view of the self-cultivated hotel garden beyond. The waiter brought my “usual” decaf, and drifted away. I was able to rest assured that my get-together plans were nothing less than perfect. The table was to be set at eight, in my suite, of course, the food prepared at eight thirty, adjusted to my liking, and the guests arriving at nine fifteen. Inhaling the aroma of the coffee before sipping, I relaxed even more. At this point, it was nice to have some enjoyment for a while. The other waiters were just conversing with each other, as it was only quarter to six. I stared out some more. This was the first time that the four of us were going to actually meet. As in, in the same place, in the same time, with the same intention—to get to know each other. I had originally come up with the idea, and while each knew the other individually, I thought that maybe we should give a get-together a go. This was going to get very interesting. Ding Dong. The doorbell rang. Ah, Edward, always the impeccably punctual one. I stepped over to the door, glancing at the clock and noting that it was exactly nine fifteen, a.m. Twisting the doorknob open, I realized that Edward had not only come precisely at the specified time, but had also dressed up in a tuxedo. Just for the occasion. “Edward! Hey, how’s it going?” I asked with my usual elegant inflection. “Hey, Allen.” He replied, holding out his empty hand, which I promptly took, giving him the classic congressman’s handshake, which I reserved only for very good friends. “Great, great, everything’s been great. Thanks.” He held out a present. “I got this for you.” Damn. He brought me a present. It was a very thick, squareish package wrapped in a beautiful wrapper with scrolling patterns. I was very surprised. “Edward, you shouldn’t have.” “Yeah, I know. But after what you did for me back in Austria, I thought that this was only a slight way to reciprocate.” “Oh,” I dismissed his over-gratitude, taking the present, “it was nothing, c’mon.” “It was to me.” He replied, giving me a warm, friendly hug. I stepped aside, “Come in, come in.” He obliged, striding into the living room. “This is my temporary place. I’m just staying here for the length of my vacation.” “Oh.” He replied, surveying the place. “Looks really nice for a vacation place.” “Yeah, well,” I shut the door, then went over to stand beside him. “it’s my second all-expenses-paid vacation this year, so, what the hey. Rock on.” I pulled my hand up in a gesture comprised of my index and pinky finger extended, pointing up, with the back of my hand facing him. He chuckled. “I like your philosophy.” Our conversation was interrupted by the sweet chimes of the doorbell. “Excuse me.” I said, sliding to the door again and swinging it open. There were Drew and Ryan, chatting like best friends. Drew was dressed in a bright green polo shirt and slacks while Ryan was more of a shiny, sky-blue superstar outfit, complete with sequins and lustrous, light-catching rocks. And the largest cleavage a guy could ever wear. It was all the way down to just above his solar plexus. “Hey guys!” I greeted cheerfully, no less happy to see my two other friends. “Hey!” Simple greetings, a few ‘hey, man’s exchanged between the older men, and we were soon on our way to the dining table, where a waiter was standing ramrod straight, expressionless and inconspicuous. We slid into the dining table as the waiter laid out the food. “So,” I began, looking for a good conversation opener, “how’s life?” “Fine. New project coming up.” Edward replied, rather enthusiastic. “Hm,” Ryan interjected, noting that, “the same. I’m still in American Idol.” Drew nodded, “Well, I’m going to appear in an episode of Charmed for season seven, and I’m currently doing a little modeling, and a little acting, etcetera . . .” I gave an understanding face. Hey, no one ever said the life of a celebrity was easy. And I understood that—I had lived with all of them for a while. “You?” They said simultaneously, then, upon realizing that they had just said the same thing, laughed. I joined in a bit, merely getting out a few guffaws before being reduced to a smile. The laughter died down almost immediately, but easily. “Well, I’m really just living life on this vacation. Doing nothing, for once.” “Yeah,” they agreed with one another, having passed that stage of life at least once in their teen life, and understanding my desire for it. The waiter left the room, but remained in earshot just in case we might call him. “Well, guys,” I gestured to the food before us, “dig in!” And we did just that. The light conversation and silly but strangely endearing banter that ensued, which included a light spoon fight, was rather relieving. We retired to the living room, where the 32-inch, wide-screen, liquid crystal television was. I generously tipped the waiter, then sent him on his way as I rejoined my friends on the couch, which was so big it could easily accommodate us. Drew and I sat in the center while Ryan and Edward sat on either side. Then, the lights dimmed and the movie started. Half way through X-2: X-Men United, I just randomly decided to throw popped corn at Drew. Then I whirled and nailed Ryan with some. They both retaliated with their own popped corn, and before long, all hell had broken loose. I ducked and missed Edward’s vicious popped corn assault, and he got Drew instead. Drew tossed his own at Edward, who protected himself with his arms, and then attacked again. I got Ryan from behind, then he attacked and got Drew, who initially got me, and I hit Edward. Then, all three just suddenly focused their attention on me. Realizing this, I nimbly cartwheeled out of the way as they sent wave after wave after wave of chips and popped corn, and all they got was carpet. Stopping after a while, I jumped up on the couch and kicked a pillow at a new spray of crushed chips that Ryan whipped in my direction. The pillow deflected it, then continued to the guys, who promptly ducked out of the way. More popped corn came back with a vengeance so I got the nearest pillow and whomped them out of the way again. Then, I surged forward, exploding away from the couch and into them, even as they regrouped to meet my oncoming assault. The force plowed them all down, and we were taken into the bedroom, where the fight continued, except, it was no longer with food, but with pillows. Drew grabbed the one I had kicked, while I held on to mine, and Ryan and Edward snatched the ones on the bed. And then, pandemonium was raised again. Drew swung at me, and I ducked, swinging mine at his abdomen. “Oomph,” he cried, then swung down at me, finally making contact. Ryan and Edward seemed content with hitting each other, blow for blow. Drew attacked me again, so I jumped back, unwittingly intruding into Ryan and Edward’s little war. They attacked me and Drew and we retaliated. Several floating feathers later, Drew collapsed on the couch, exhausted. Ryan flopped down next to him, and Edward on Drew’s other side. The fight had lasted a good forty minutes more, and it had been carried back and forth from the bedroom to the living room. I had retreated to my bed ten minutes ago and had been content to watch them beat the shit out of each other. They didn’t bother me as well, knowing that I was tired, and had just resumed. Edward was proclaimed winner and they had all just sort of dropped. What a relief. My pulse had calmed and I was getting a bit sleepy. But surveying the mess, there was much to be done. And I sure didn’t want to put the room service through that. So I did what any truly O.C. person would do. I cleaned. I swept and wiped for the better part of the next twenty minutes, and, finally satisfied with the state of the room, sat on the ottoman in front of the couch, watching the three men sleep, heads on each other’s shoulders. And in a series of flashes, I suddenly remembered everything that I had been through with each one of them. Edward Atterton. I had met him while scaling the alps in Austria, and had made extremely good friends with him when I saved him from sliding off the mountains—twice. I had always enjoyed his company. I don’t know, there was just something about him that brought out my inner intellectual. Ryan Seacrest. When I found him, he was suicidal and apathetic, mired in a deep state of depression. And then, somehow, by some miracle, my being around cured him. He was suddenly happy again, and he could continue his life. And he always says, again and again, how he’s so grateful for what I did for him, how he wishes he could repay me, how he will always be in my debt. And Drew. Drew Fuller. We had been friends for so long, he was my brother already. He had been annoyingly indebted to me when I saved him from stark-raving-obsessed fans, especially from this slut that just started stripping in front of him. And then he saved me from death by a bus accident. And everything after that was just sort of history. We grew to be best friends, and I even saved him from a freaky goth girl. Of course, he saved me from suicide. That’s how I saved Ryan. And here we were, basking in our triumph over our trials, bound by destiny, ultimately best friends for life. I was absolutely happy at this moment—completely satisfied. I felt like the luckiest guy in the world. And if given the chance to do everything over again, I wouldn’t change a thing. Clichés? Well, it’s my mind, and I can asphyxiate it with clichés to my heart’s content. Suddenly feeling somewhat alone after my trip back to reality, I just wanted to be completely unified with them. Solidified. Like stone. Unbreakable. One. I glided over to the couch, smoothly slipping into the space between Drew and Edward. They both subconsciously adjusted to accommodate me, and I finally got into a comfortable enough position. But it wasn’t perfect. It just wasn’t. So I sprang up, wearily dragged myself to the bed, pulled the comforter away, and then dragged myself all the way back. Then, I threw it over us, smoothed out the edges, then got back to my position, finally completely sated from the cravings of my O.C.-ness. Sleep came easily, wrapped up in the blanket, between all of my best friends. And life was, truly, perfect. |
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December 5th, 2004
Today's poke-ing wedding. POSTED AT 08:27 AM CONGRATULATIONS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! They officially tied the knot today at San Sebastian Church. Yes, it was a celebration to remember. The pretty light, the ancient, wisdom-of-ages looking Church, really. Just lovely. Anyway, so we went to the marriage ceremony, went out for some merienda at Mann Hann (and I saw my classmate, Aldrick Po), and then went to Gloria Maris for the Reception. So then we had a bit of fun, and then that annoying, jerk-of-a-host started bashing everyone during the games. But everything else--perfect. Everything was well-planned, and not a single discrepancy in the schedule. But there was a glitch in the cupcakes--they were so messy. So all in all, it was a wonderful occasion. Again, to the bride and groom, Mr and Mrs Richard Wong, congratulations!!!!!!!!! |
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December 5th, 2004
And yet still *more* introspective crap . . . POSTED AT 10:40 AM ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Have you ever thought that the old cliché, “The best things in life are free.” is actually true? I have. Sometimes, when we eat out in the afternoon at around five or five-thirty, I like to just stand outside in the open and stretch my arms wide and breathe in the air because usually, the air way up high is not polluted. I watch the sunset cast a shimmery glow on the mountains in the distance and on the sides of the buildings and, for a moment, all my troubles and usually business-minded life fade away into the ether. There is only the sunset and me. The scene is so breathtaking that I forget that I even exist. There is only what I see now. I am temporarily incapable of forming thoughts and just watch as the fountain down below shimmers with the same light that illuminated everything else but the water obscures the true picture, making it even more spectacular to behold. I think of all the key moments in my life, the ones I really can’t ever forget, and can’t help but smile. Then my dad walks up to me and says in his usual cheery tone, “Penny for your thoughts?” and I subconsciously reply the same thing I always say when he tells me that. In a deadpan, I intone, “Make it a quarter and it’s a deal.” Then, as if I was woken up from a beautiful dream, my senses slam back to reality and the moment is gone. I give a long sigh and feel all my problems return to me. It all dissipates and I can’t focus on anything. I try to think of the sunset once more but I can’t return to the moment that has passed. My dad puts a hand on my shoulder and says, “We have to go.” But I can’t even bring myself to comprehend those words. A sick feeling grows inside me, the kind I usually get when I let something I’ll never get again just slip away when I could have seized it. I just reply a monotonous “Uh huh.” and continue to stare. Just as I feel myself slipping back into that perfect bliss as I watch the sun go down, my dad shakes me and repeats his words. I finally understand and force myself to look away and move towards the door. I take two or three glances behind me, trying to see it for a last time. Then, the world slips into darkness and I step into the car, watching the moon slowly rise. I remember the feeling of flawless tranquility as I fall asleep with only the last remnants of that paradise to comfort my ever-troubled mind. As I feel that sinking feeling of sleepiness that drives all my troubles away, I struggle with my eyelids to keep awake, watching the full moon cast a coruscating light on the mountains and buildings that, just ten minutes ago, were illuminated by the sun’s ever-beautiful glow. Just when I feel I am about to win the epic battle, I feel nothing as I see a panorama unfold before me. The first thing I notice is the bright white light above me. Then a calm ocean’s waves, gently splashing against each other, and a small island in the distance, with but a few palm trees to decorate the white sand on it’s shores, also come into focus. I feel the being that my spirit seems to have projected to in this impeccable scenario begin to move forward. Slowly, oh so slowly, I float. Soon, I am close to the island and I see the waves rolling on its shore in a brisk yet light manner, coloring the sand on it a darker shade of it’s original parchment white. I look down and see nothing but water. I splash around but I see no reflection. Suddenly, a haze obscures my focus and I can see only the predominant colors. This doesn’t tear away my perfect world and everything comes back clearly. This is like dream! I hear my mind scream at me in joy. I touch the island and feel the sand sliding through my “fingers” yet I see nothing of my own. The word ‘dream’ lingers. It plays over and over around me that I can actually feel its gravity on my ephemeral body. Then, as I understand the meaning, a jolt of electricity goes through me and I can feel again. I hear an engine going out and everything goes black. I open my eyes and see my mom’s face smiling at me. I roll my eyes and get out of the car. It was all just a dream. But it felt so real, I argue with my self, I swear I could actually feel the water going through me. But that’s how dreams are, my self replies, it feels real. I lean against the wall of my house and close my eyes, trying to hold on to the lightweight sensation that the dream gave me. It was way too early after a dream to be all analytical again. The next thing I can remember is being in my room. Had I even walked up here? I swear I did but I can’t seem to remember any of it. The world flashes by again and I feel the bed under me. It happened again, I think. I walked here and sat on the bed in trance. Maybe it’s because I’ve done it so many times that I can’t even remember which time I did it. I flop backward almost automatically, lying on my bed. My eyes fly open. “Where am I?” is the first thing I hear myself say. I look around and see a light source at my left. I’m in my room. I look at the clock and see that it’s only five thirty in the morning. The sleep I had was dreamless--just a haze of black. Oh well, I think to myself, it’s time to get up. Got to be perfect for a new day! |
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December 10th, 2004
Paolo. POSTED AT 07:30 AM You were the one who kept hustling us to practice well. You were the one who kept bugging me about the script, the lights, the minor details, everything! And then you just decide to bail on us like that? The Ec-Show was one of the most important events of this quarter! We messed up so bad, I'm sure we won't even pass! All because you weren't there. Michael and Alvaro were there, supporting the group. Where the hell were you? Michael and I had to memorize your lines for you. We had to do all of your scenes. We were losing our minds there! How could you do this? After everything we did, after all the preparations, you just decide to blow us off like that? What the hell are we going to do now? I'm not mad at you. Understand that. I'm mad at what you did. Dalawang araw na, ha. Dalawang araw ka nang hindi pumapasok. What do you expect us to do? Pilay ang klase kapag wala ka riyan. You're the president. Leigh and Barney have been taking on all of your responsibilities for you in your absence. Putang ina naman eh! You're a major role in the script! We even had it specifically tailored for your needs! 'Tang ina . . . You should have been there, Paolo. You should have been there to help. Cos, dammit, everyone else was. I may forgive, but I never forget. Ever. |
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December 16th, 2004
Of Extemporaneous Speeches, Nostalgia & Other Such Kapukian . . POSTED AT 11:04 AM So! Anyway, here's a rundown of some of the stuff that's gone down over the past days: ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hell Week: Yes, this entire week has just been one bit of Hell after another, what with all our quizzes, unfinished activities, lessons and long tests crammed into this week alone. Sucks. Oh, and I had to give my notebook out, which I did for over three hours, and read over two hundred pages of Pride and Prejudice for an impromptu speech, which ended up so I easy, I was cursing myself afterwards. And ho! I'm still not done with the f*cking book. Longer-Than-Normal Tests: Math, Filipino, English, Social Science, C.L.E. and Science. All of them. Long Tests. In seven days. Crap. Nostalgia: I've been seeing teachers that I've known from before rather randomly this week. All of a sudden, I pass Mrs. Zarah Gagatiga from Grade School, and I'm all, "Ang tagal na niyang guro sa Xavier, ah. Nursery pa ata . . ." and then I pass Mr. Angelo "Mac" Santos and I'm all, "Dude, I harassed this guy!!!!" and stuff!!!!! I'm A Bitch: Ms. Lampa was arranging for the sorting thingy that Stallions has gotten going, and we advanced a few days to get a feel of what we'd be doing on Saturday, and well, she called me a bitch. But that was before I found out that when she says "bitch", it's "a form of endearment" (apparently, what she uses for people she doesn't like is "asshole". Little does she know--I believe her). Acquaintance Party: Yup, the very first boy-girl event of the year for freshmen, called the Acquaintance Party in Xavier, with ICAns, who are right across our school (minsan, kawayan pa nga eh), is coming up this Saturday, coincidentally on the afternoon of my Sorting Day! Damn, ICAns, you don't know what you're missing. Galleria Galore: I stood around at the entrance of the supermarket of Robinson's Galleria with one or two or four of my fellow Stallion members and handed out flyers, practicing speeches that would be most effective, and basically having loads of fun in the process. It's extremely, ineffably gratifiying to see that people DO care about the poor who were marooned by the recent streak of typhoons that ravaged the Philippines recently. I would've bitched about it sooner here, but I didn't have the time. People I Met: Basically the classifications of people that I came across during this particular incident at Galle. Bitches: Complete, sardonic, bitches. Men included. They insulted you, scoffed at you or otherwise offended you. Usually women in their menopause. Or teens that wear ridiculously extravagant and rather gaudy jewelry, having PMS. Now I know how life is for the people in the mall that do this everyday. Fortunately, I have no guilt, since I haven't neglected one of these flyer-giving people, ever. Philantropists: The people who really, really, really care!!!! Wheeee!!!! They were generous and nice and super-friendly. Usually women in their sixties to seventies. Fellow Activists: Yes! When we offered them flyers, they were like, "Ah, kami rin, nagbibigay kami sa amin." Yaaaayityyyy!!!! Sugod, mga kapatid!!!!! Whheeeeeeeeeeeeeeee . . . The Apathetic: They don't mind you. At all. Usually married, forty-year old males running errands for those equally apathetic harridans they call "wives". ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- And that is all for now. But maybe another time, I'll update. |
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December 17th, 2004
Freedom! Liberation! Emancipation! COMPLETE AND UTTER POKE!!!!! POSTED AT 04:04 AM Yes, we're really, really, utterly free. For Christmas, anyway. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Some the shit that went down today: The Christmas Program: We began with two people: Ms. Clothy Aragoncillo and Noel Something, the dude from "Whacked!", I believe. (Yeah, he couldn't speak very fluent Filipino, very afflicted.) Yeah, they were the Masters of THIS """"Ceremony, and what happened after would only shock you. So, the two went blather, blather, rant, rant . . . *ehem* balderdash! *ehem . . . ramble, ramble . . . And then we saw a multitude of processed video footage with added audio, then some High One people hop on stage and dance,and then . . . AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! *barfs organs out* AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! PPPPPPPPPOOOOOOOOOOOKKKKKKKKKEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! Shit! SHIT!!!!!!!!!! KKKKKKKKK *coughs and manically dies* Shit! It was so disgusting!!!!!!! First, Mr. Ian Lim, Mr. Floho and three other guys came up on stage and just . . . danced!!!!! No, that can't even be considered a dance!!!!!!! Lumukso-lukso pa, tapos pa-kembot-kembot . . . and....and . . . . AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! *gouges eyes out and rips brain from head* No offense to them, but it was disgusting!!!!!!!!!!! What they did was nothing short of a vamp-lap-dance. Except, it was onstage, in front of four thousand minors, over three hundred members of the faculty and staff, and before God almighty. As they danced, I threatened to puke. No, not pu-keh, puke. As in, vomit/throw up/expell undigested paraphernalia and gastric juices from the intestines, out of the mouth/hurl. Yeah. Patrick, who was at my right, was leaning forward, probably asleep. Henrison at my left, deadpan person that he is, just sort of went "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" And me, I turned to Patrick's side, the part of his seat that he wasn't taking up, and did the on-the-verge-of-throwing-up sort of thing, where your lips shape into a funnel and the bile threatens to shoot out. And with supreme control, lots of practice and the fact that all I had for breakfast was cereal, which had already been digested, I managed not to. But right now, I feel the bile rising again. The humid temperature doesn't help. Lemme get the electric fan working. There, much better. *Ehem* Anyways!!!! So then, they quickly exited the stage (thank God!!!!!!!!!!) and the women (Ms. Melanie Yao, Ms. Demi Tien, Ms. Claro and . . . some very-fluent-in-English,-Filipino,-and-Chinese Teacher. Anyway, they dance to some Sandara song that I know nothing of (I'm TV deprived . . . *thinks* . . . like Jackie.), and am only informed that it is such when Henrison beside me screams "SSSAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNDDDAAAAAAARRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!!!!!" And I stare. At least they don't look disgusting, although they just recycled the dance moves. And then disgusting-dance-move after disgusting-dance-move, we were finally liberated and retreated to the classrooms for the Prayer Service and the agape (a-GA-pay, a "fellowship meal"). The Agape: We had a cooker full of Chicken Nuggets (generously provided by, kudos to you, Evan Chen), then we had Pringles, Cheez Mania thingies, pasta, sandwiches, juice and sprite. Then, Ms. Yao comes along and joins the fun!!!!!! Wheee!!!!!!! And everyone begins to tease her about the dancing she did . . . a while ago, up on stage, in a red spaghetti-strappy/tank-top with some onyx colored coat thing that reveals half of her one-sided spag-strap. ANYways, so blah-di-blah. The usual banter goes on, and then suddenly, Lorenzo begins tickling Stamford, who wigs out and thrashes about (but curiously is unable to knock anything down), and Lorenzo goes, "Cher, ganito magwala si Stamford!!!" and Ms. Yao begins to laugh. Then, Aldrick joins along and they assault poor Stam. So then Ms. Yao, having a wonderful time, says, "Ganyan rin naman kayo lagi kay Dwight eh!" or something like that, so Lorenzo and Aldrick relocate their attention to Dwight, who collapses from the assault. I, in the front row, witnessing everything, and indignant to the fact that she had begun the whole assault on Dwight, since he was already most of the siga-people's play thing, begin to scold her. "Ms. Yao! Ano ka ba?" But the guy behind me, whoever that is, hears only the "Ms. Yao!" part and screams, "Oy, si Ms. Yao!". So Aldrick and Enzo "attend" to her instead. She yelps, then retreats to the aisles with some food in her hand. When Aldrick and Enzo approach, she's screaming to Ms. Didulo, "Ma'am? Ma'am! MA'AM!!!!!!!!!!! SI ENZO!!!!!!!!!!!" But Ms. Didulo's having a fit of laughter herself, and on the other side of the room, so she is powerless. So then they have a bout of time tickling her all the way to the corner of the room, where she brandishes her fist and her half-eaten chicken nugget like a bomb. While she's being attacked, Christian comes up to me from the far end of the room and whispers, "Nasaan si Mr. Morales?" and I burst out laughing. He continues by calling out, "Mr. Morales!!!!!!" More laughter ensues. So anyway, Ms. Didulo finally arrives and separates them, and Ms. Yao, I guess fearing more assault, hurriedly am-scrays and everything just sort of ends there. We get some iced cream from Ms. Cayanan, and I got a card from her too. Oh crap, I just remembered, I left the card. Shit. Shit. SHIIIIIIITTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Fuck. Okay, to end it, I was about to go home, when I saw Alvaro give a present to Paolo, going all, "Merry Christmas, Paolo." in that afflicted accent of his, and I just realized, although Alvaro didn't like him anymore, everything they'd been through together was worth it, so much so that they still exchanged presents. Damn. So, yeah, that's it. To everyone, a beautiful Christmas Vacation, a Merry Christmas to all, and a Happy Imminent New Year. |
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December 18th, 2004
THE ACQUAINTANCE PARTY!!!!!! (sorry for plotholes in the ff.) POSTED AT 02:15 PM Okay, I’m harsh and cold-blooded. It didn’t suck that much, but there were definitely things that I would’ve changed. Like? Hmm, let’s see— The Club: It was loud, flashing and pointless. I think I came out deaf. Shit. And, to quote Henrison, it was as though we were on some alternate dimension where brilliant flashes of light were deemed normal and everything moved frame by frame. And I now know what it’s like to get lost in music. For about five minutes, there was this ineffable sensation of not being there. I couldn’t feel Jackie’s hand on my wrist, dragging me around. I couldn’t feel Adrienne and Bea’s voices straining to be heard over the din of the music. I could just see movement, and flashing, and complete loss of sensation. I felt unreal, like I wasn’t there. There was only the music and the view around, pumping, oscillating . . . building, exploding. I was turning around again and again but I didn’t notice. I would’ve changed all of it. Just too much nausea. I don’t think I ever wanna “lose myself in the music” again. Not in this lifetime, anyway. People: Facis are excluded. Only the members. They were all torpe/oblivious and no one talked at all—only when necessary. *Note: Just when I thought that I would be having a normal Acquaintance Party, by some disturbed twist of fate, by the intense sadism of the Gods of Irony, and ensuring that my life is never not a living Hell, Dominic came—yes, that’s right people, Dominic Navarro (for those of you who know exactly what my position with him is)—late as he was, making us just one person short now (previously two, as your I.Q. would tell you) and so some unlucky guy had to be beside him. And that unlucky guy would be Leigh Wong (who didn’t even seem to care). Why is it that every time something good happens, he has to come and wreck my life? Well yeah, I know he hates me just as much and pretty much wants me out of the school, but hey, the feeling's mutual. Of course, now that I’m actually writing this at 08:57 in the evening of the same day of the Acquaintance Party, I don’t care about him at all. But when he did come along at first, I could feel the immense hatred radiating off of my brain cells. It’s always like that with him. I hate his guts, then I feel absolutely nothing. Nothing at all. And then later, I’m back to unthinkable repugnance. Okay, straying from the topic. If you want an in-depth review, I will post it later. Yes, I have enough passion to bitch at this guy on my blog. Who’d’ve thought it possible . . . ANYways . . . Exactly What The Hell Happened: [8:00 – 10:00] The Sorting. I helped Mr. Ang and the other people sort out the mountains and mountains of ukay-ukay donations that were collected. I met Rachel Guerrero there! Whee! Okay, her friend tells her about it, she goes to help, and poof! She’s there. Cutting it close to the Acquaintance Party, I know, but still. I feel obligated. After everything Xavier's given to me, it's my way of giving back, as well as the Sagip Pasko thing (look: waaaaaaaay below). [12:30 – 1:30] So Xavier was late with the beginning, and the registration started at one-forty or something. Nabbed a pen and hanky, toyed with my cellphone, watched the people pile up (I was the first one) [140-ish – 4:30/5:00-ish] The beginning. We got into the High School Gym, got our tag thingies (it’s some kind of sharp, right-triangular thing with our names on one fifth of it, and the rest a waste of paper. Then, we looked for pictures that supposedly depicted out characters, which were printed onto the name tag things. The Heracles on our tags did not look like the Hercules on the board thing of our facis. But we found it nonetheless. And at about two, we finished collecting all the members (well, almost, anyway). They are as follows, in a circle, from me to the right: Me, Ish, Prince, Yvette, Mark, Milcah, Simon, Jo Anne, Dominic (gags), Leigh (this is where there’s no girl in between cos SOMEONE came late), Abby, Samson, and Micah. So, we think we’ve got everyone, but we’re a guy and a girl short, and we’re already into the FIRST IMPRESSIONS activity of the Acquaintance Program when, suddenly, I look up from my paper, reading what everyone else wrote (they think I’m from Japan and like Japanese Food! The total opposite! I detest Japanese food, except maybe Tonkatsu.) And, what should I happen to see, but, to give me the shock of my life, the very bane of my existence. First reaction: Oh Shit. Second reaction: Why the fuck is he here? Third: Please don’t let his tag have Hercules on it . . . please, please, please . . . Fourth reaction (upon inspection of his name tag): Crap. It does. This’ll be one real jolly acquaintance party . . . Yeah, you know who it is people, the very guy I’ve been bashing since the beginning of the post. Dominic Navarro. Writing the name alone gives me pain . . . . . . . . . Moving on!!!!! So I’m all, Oh God, please don’t make me have to write on his paper. I will not be held responsible for what I write there . . . I was . . . uh . . . I was provoked!!!!! By his existence!!! Thankfully, I don’t. He answers it himself (which totally defeats the purpose), and the rest is just one big headache. Finally, I’m freed of having to look at him every time I turn my head, and head off for lunch/dinner/linner. [4:30/5:00-ish to about 6:00] Dinner. I nab some chow, chat with the facis and head off. And I threaten to kick Ienne’s ass if she calls me gay. Only as a joke of course. And then there was aprt during the opening prayer where a Xaverian and an ICAn sing and Jackie texts me, even when it's prohibited, "Was that Andrew singing?" and then I look at her and she looks at me and I'm mouth "I don't know." but she mouths back, "What?" and I repeat and she repeats and then I repeat. This goes on for some time until I text back, "I DON'T KNOW, BUT I DON'T THINK SO." So rushed, I forgot to remove the caps so Jackie thought I was mad at her. And then later, Mark Tan, who was beside her, goes to me and says, "What were you telling me?" and I go, "No, no, I was talking to Jackie." This other part was when Jackie and Ienne introduced me to the rest of their "kada" and first it was Bea, then Sam, then Cath, and then lots of other people, and then they grabbed Jennifer and told me it was Cam. But they had previously told me that Camille didn't come to the Acquaintance Party so I instantly knew they were spinning me a large yarn. And then when Adrienne ripped off her name tag, and I caught the "J" before she did, I knew it was not true. And Jen kept referring to Camille in the thrid person. Too obvious. But I've met everyone now!!!!!!!!! WHEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!! Yeah . . . . . . . . . [6:00-ish – 7:30-ish] The Club. Painful lights, painful noise, rising temperature and pounding bodies. Never a good combination unless you’re a party animal. I pointed Dominic out to Jackie. Now she knows what he looks like. And that was also where I introduced Jackie and Ienne and Cath and Bea, and occasionally Sam or Carla, or one of Jackie’s clique to Stanly, Evan, Christian, Earvin, Paolo, etc. . . We all got vertigo cos of the lights. It was just painful! Damn, my eyes still hurt. The green/blue/red/white flashes were just too much, and I was covering my ears half of the time. Then some weird stuff happened, we randomly danced and soon left the club again for some air, peace and sanity. It was nutty, all of it. [7:30-ish to 8:00+] The aftermath. Jackie, Cath, Ienne, Bea and I had our pics taken on a card thing and we took our own pictures with our cellphones. Awardings (as usual, Carlo gets highest rank. I swear the judges were either biased of there own accord, or paid), thanks, hanging around, goodbyes and we left. Notes: -Well, it’s mostly just been one big, blurry super-cold iced cream cone. It gave me one hell of a headache. - Jackie had to go early, Meggie came too. - I know what Bea and Cath and Sam and Jenny look like! Whee! - I have an addiction to songs by Train. Especially “Calling All Angels”, “When I Look To The Sky” and “I Am”. These songs—you must hear them. YOU MUST!!!!!!!!!! Okay, no connec (yes, Leigh (that’s pronounced “LEE”, by the way), NO CONNCEC!!!!!!!!!!!!!) but still! - Jackie gave titles to the people I introduced her to. E.G.: Evan – the smart, nice guy. Paolo – the “P” guy (all she could remember was that his name started with a “P”). Christian – that guy. Dominic – the tall, dark guy that Allen hates. (. . . . . . . . . uh . . . . . . . yeah.) - Jackie and Dominique (female, and obviously ICAn, not to be confused with Dominic, that oh-so-humongous pebble in my shoe . . .) adopted each other as sisters. EHH??????? Thanks to the Facis for a semi-(semi-semi-semi-semi-semi-) good time. It was okay to say the least. But I’d like to ask, and this is open to all males affiliated with the Acquaintance party, since we slashed it from our food budget, what ever happened to that twenty-peso souvenir that we were supposed to receive? Feeling: disappointed |
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December 18th, 2004
Dominicanica!!!!!! Read the previous entry FIRST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! POSTED AT 02:25 PM ANYWAY!!!!!!!!!!!! Here now is the review of that . . . I can’t say it. Damn netiquette. So anyway, here’s what. As you know, what I feel for Dominic is temporal but chronic. Hate, apathy, hate, apathy. It’s getting to be a disturbing pattern. I don’t know why, but he irks me. Maybe it's his mannerisms, his patapon personality, his siga-ness (pompousness, superciliousness, conceit, narcissism, the list goes on and on . . .), the way he walks, the way he talks, his attitude to people and . . . life, his lack of meticulousness, the way he’s only nice to girls and his barkada . . . I dunno. Basta. It’s very hard to explain. I know, I know, they’re all little things. But when they pile up, they make for one hell of an issue. And I don’t know why it had to be him that I ended up hating, but it is. I’m not basing this all on just first impressions and accusations—I was his classmate for a year! And I still am, in the advanced classes where I am jinxed enough to have to sit through a class with him in the metric vicinity. Luckily, I won’t have to worry about him being my classmate for the next three years, or ever again actually, unless he plans to become a chef or a psychologist, and I end up in the same school as him, or working in the same place as him. Then, death would be the next best thing. Now, Ish tells me that he seems nice, sounds nice, acts nice, probably is nice, and I reinforce again—only with girls, and his kada. Hay, life sucks. And this is all not to say that I haven’t tried to understand him. I really did. It’s just . . . I couldn’t. We’re so completely different. Finally, understand that there is a chance of knowing him better and actually ending up befriending him. But the chances of knowing him better and hating him even more, or hating from afar, are greater. So if in case Dominic does ever read this, I’m sorry. Feeling: bitchy |
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December 20th, 2004
Days of Boredom . . . like this one!!!!!!!!!! POSTED AT 05:31 PM It's 12:01, December the twenty first, and I just watched Chris beat the crap out of Leo in yet another episode of Charmed, Spin City (6.18). It's sort of like redemption for Chris, for all the times that Leo abused him. Yeah. He hit him a total of nineteen times, until Piper finally stops him. And . . . the part where Chris actually screamed "You don't know me!" before he proceeds to hit Leo the last nine times was rather unnecessary. I mean, he could've continued hitting him while screaming. Why bother to stop, right? No, I don't have anything against Leo, nothing at all. It's just that with Chris, he's been an asshole. For the first fifteen episodes anyway. And Chris just happens to be one of my favorite characters, along with Piper and Paige. Pointless entry. Oh, I wanna download Maybe Tomorrow by the Stereophonics, and the song used in Soul Sister (6.07), the one by Steadman. If anyone knows that song, then please tell me what via the comment link below, or the tagboard to your left. Yeah. Jackie's got a gift, so does Meggie. And I get Ienne what Jackie recommended. Ah Yes!!!!!!!!!! In "Spin City", when Paige crosses her arms and the elevator closes, it's right over left, but when we flash on the scene directly after, we see it's now left over right. And when Paige and Phoebe are about to orb off to Hong Kong (in Chris-Crossed), we hear Phoebe say goodbye in Chinese: Zai Jian. But instead of pronouncing it like you would say shy and men, it's more like say and Jeanne (with an exaggerated French-accented "E"). Basta. And Chris? No, actually, Drew, he delivers his lines too fast. Not enough pause. Sure, he can act. As in act but he has to get the pauses right. Just a note. All in all, Brian might be the best actor, or maybe Holly. Rose is very comical, I know, and very versatile, but she's more of a sarcastic/esoteric cult thing mroe than anything. And Phoebe, well, she's more of a Jack of All Trades. Does anyone else think that Paige, in episode 2 of season six, Valhalley of The Dolls Part 2, when she, Phoebe, Leo and Darryl arrive back to Earth, and Darryl asks about his body, and she says, "Oh, I'm sorry, you can just step right back in." sounded like Lindsay Lohan? Yeah. And when they're back home, after Leo kicks the shit out of Chris, and Phoebe and Paige pull out their pendants with their right hands, and they revert to their witch selves, the pendant suddenly ends up in Paige's left hand. And what the hell happened to the Valkyrie that Chris kissed at the beginning of the season? I thought there was actually some kindof romantic interest between the two, but apparently, Chris is engaged and Valkyries are bound to celibacy. So what, they just felt that it was "proper" and go, "hey, let's kiss for fun!!!" and smooch? What the hell???? Major plothole!!!!!!!!!! And how did Chris get the allegience of the Valkyries anyway? They're not supposed to have to deal with emotions, so what does the trifle of a kid from the future compare to the ultimate battle between good and evil? And we're already in season seven and there doesn't seem to be a final battle to take place anymore with the avatars around. I bet he slept with the one we first saw . . . yeah . . . and just decided to ask a favor, but the girl, in chains, cuffed on the bed, getting her brains fucked out, couldn't hear above the blood pounding in her ears. So she agreed. Extortion . . . EEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWWWWWW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I can't believe I just wrote that!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ick . . . Okay, sleeping now. It's 01:29 AM . . . |
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December 22nd, 2004
PURRRRTEH!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Pretty) POSTED AT 07:14 AM And I spent a full seven minutes doing this last night!!!!! So at least look at it!!!! And tell me what you think . . . By The Way: Click the picture for a bigger size. The thumbnails just don't do it justice. Copyrighted to me. Do not take without permission. [img:487848] Reading: Pride and Prejudice (pa rin . . . hay . . .) Listening to: If You Leave My World (Michael Learns To Rock) Feeling: creative |
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December 24th, 2004
Floober POSTED AT 12:49 PM Me: Did you see that episode of Charmed where Wyatt gets taken away? Friend: Uh . . . no. Me: You know, the one with the Cleaners, some guys in white, and they take him away because-- Friend: Ah! Oo! Yeah! Uhuh. I know the episode. Why? Me: It's just so funny. Especially that scene of Chris with his pants off and . . . Friend: WHAT???? Me: You know, where Leo goes to him and . . . Friend: What episode is that?!?! Me: Uh . . . Dragon's Heat, why? Friend: Season six diba? I have to get that episode! Me: Why? Friend: Oh c'mon! Chris! With his pants off! Me: . . . *pause* Me: It's not like there's much to see. I mean, he doesn't show anything. Friend: . . . Still!!!! His pants are off!!!!! It just goes to show: Love does make you do crazy things. Like my good friend *bleep*. Listening to: Worlds On Fire by Sarah McLachlan Feeling: bummed out |
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December 26th, 2004
Bitchiness. POSTED AT 06:27 AM This Christmas just totally bombed. If it were any lower, we'd all be six feet under. You know what I don't get? Why people have to celebrate Christmas with extravagant gift giving. Don't we already do that every birthday? And why the fuck do we always have to be cheery and happy when you really feel like nuking America? It's just Christmas, anyway. Don't get me wrong, i love God and all. I'm a devout Catholic. But I really just don't get the whole celebrate-Christ's-birthday-by-giving-gifts-to-each-other thing. It's worthless. Forget it. I'm not giving gifts next Christmas. Yeah. Life is screwed up. There are lots of things that I wanna just come out and say here, but I can't, cos I'm bound to secrecy. Expect no more perky, "haha!" entries for the rest of this frickin life. Although I might reconsider if I feel like letting up on the brooding. Hey, at least I'm not satanist. And what is it with the world and dark, foreshadowy precognition anyway? It's not like we care. We're all just gonna die someday. And who the fuck cares if the world is gonna end? We all know it will. I am so sick of this . . . this . . . stigma that's supposed to inhabit the world. If one of you fucking gods of foresight wanna tell us something, why only say it to the "prophets" or the "gifted ones"? Why not just scribble it in the sky with shiny neon lettering? Just fucking tell us! And if you don't, then the people that are so-called "gifted" are quacks and all of you other fucking so-called gods out there are all fake! Jeez . . . it's not like I don't have enough insanity-histrionics to deal with everyday of my life. And my brother called me a piece of shit cos I ate his Clover Chips. Do I care? Fuck him. |
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December 27th, 2004
A Cure for The Anorexic and the Bulimic POSTED AT 09:00 AM Now in the car, I snapped it open and had only gotten one chip and popped it in my mouth before my mom snatched the bag from my hands and just shoved chip after chip into her mouth. Deprived much? So I wait a while and she hands it back to me. I resume eating. Then, three chips later, she rips the bag from my hands again and begins rapidly tossing the chips into her mouth until she's temporarily satisfied. When it happened the third time, and when my mom noted that though she didn't eat chips often, when she did, she couldn't stop, it hit me: I had just found a cure for the anorexic and the bulimic. The key was not deprivation, it was over-doing. I had binged on chips my entire life, and if at any point, was given chips, I could stop at the drop of a hat, because I had been exposed. But my mom, who had, like every other normal woman out there, been watching her weight, and had never been much for chips, couldn't because it wasn't some everyday thing for her. Strangely, I, who had been able to eat chips whenever I wanted, never gained much weight. But other people, who constantly deprive themselves until their craving gets the best of them, and even then, still control the amount they eat, do. Well, yay for us with the high metabolism. |
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December 27th, 2004
Fire POSTED AT 09:55 AM Smoke billowing up. Everyone within a three-mile radius panicking. And then the firemen came. The Binondo Chinese Fire People Volunteers thing. On the way to Church, my mom explained that in the earlier times, some four decades ago, maybe, the Filipino firemen would not put out your fires until you paid them "grease money". So the Binondo Volunteers were created. And before, they were all pure chinese--it's only now that there're Half-Chi's. So kudos to them. I have a video clip of bits of the fire. Just plumes of smoke rising out of the squatter area, and a few embers rising out. |
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December 27th, 2004
December 27th, 2004
The Color of My Spirit POSTED AT 01:54 PM  Red: You are a very passionate person. Be it sexually or not. When you want something you stop at nothing to get it. That is your aggressive personality. You probably have very high sexual energy. I can also bet that you are very emotional from time to time. Even though you don't like to admit it. You are fierce and are definitely not a force to reckon with. !!!!!!!!!!!!!??????????!!!!What colour is your spirit?(with great pictures) brought to you by Quizilla ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Okay, what the Hell???? ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Another thing that I think reflects me:  Blue: You are a protector. You have unimaginable inner stength; it's no wonder people come to you for help! You possess clarity of the thoughts, and are capable of keeping your cool even in the toughest situations. Though you think with your mind rather then your heart, that doesn't stop you from being as imaginative and calm as you are. You make things right, and rid the world of wrongs. You believe in truth and justice, yet you rarely put your trust into others. You are the only person you rely on. A typical super-hero! !!!!!!!!!!!!!??????????!!!!What colour is your spirit?(with great pictures) brought to you by Quizilla Feeling: quixotic |
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December 28th, 2004
Some idiot named BELGARIONBLIGHTWELL decides to IM me. Whee. POSTED AT 12:44 AM I finish eating a bag of chips, and go to the CR to wash myhands. When I return, there's this Instant Message window with some guy named belgarionblightwell (Note: I totally don't know this guy. He claims to be from Taj Majal. And just thinking about having actually carried more than four lines of conversation with him makes me wanna wring his cybernetic neck again and again till he can't so much as type a word. Know anyone from there?). And here's how it goes: belgarionblightwell (7:47:58 PM): how was it like when you called me? ecclesiastical_aver (8:01:35 PM): come again? belgarionblightwell (8:01:55 PM): Taj Majal Bangalangadad. ecclesiastical_aver (8:02:13 PM): I'm sorry, I don't understand. ecclesiastical_aver (8:02:32 PM): I called you? belgarionblightwell (8:02:39 PM): Neither do i. belgarionblightwell (8:02:42 PM): you did? belgarionblightwell (8:02:45 PM): really belgarionblightwell (8:02:48 PM): ? ecclesiastical_aver (8:02:49 PM): "belgarionblightwell: how was it like when you called me?" ecclesiastical_aver (8:03:03 PM): who are you? belgarionblightwell (8:03:05 PM): that was ME? belgarionblightwell (8:03:09 PM): oh i am sorry. belgarionblightwell (8:03:11 PM): hmm. belgarionblightwell (8:03:17 PM): the question is, who are YOU. ecclesiastical_aver (8:03:23 PM): why? belgarionblightwell (8:03:37 PM): i've heard you've been using my name. ecclesiastical_aver (8:03:46 PM): what're you talking about? ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- At this point, I'm very confused. I don't know what he's talking about, but I hadn't questioned his motives, as he hadn't given me reason to. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- belgarionblightwell (8:03:51 PM): Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Allen Yu. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Shocked. Very shocked. And then I realized why he thought I'd been using his name. I now began to wonder how he even got my email address, or found out that my name was identical to his, given that he is genuine and not some fucker that's pulling my leg. Now, to remedy the situation before it got any more out of hand. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ecclesiastical_aver (8:04:04 PM): okay ecclesiastical_aver (8:04:06 PM): yeah ecclesiastical_aver (8:04:10 PM): so we share the same name ecclesiastical_aver (8:04:16 PM): that doesn't mean I'm using yours. belgarionblightwell (8:04:32 PM): yes it does. belgarionblightwell (8:04:35 PM): hmph. ecclesiastical_aver (8:04:38 PM): look belgarionblightwell (8:04:39 PM): it's MY name. belgarionblightwell (8:04:43 PM): copycat. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Aba. Agresibo. Sapak-sapakin kaya natin, ano? ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ecclesiastical_aver (8:04:55 PM): I don't know what kind of joke you're trying to pull here, but I am Allen Yu, as much as you are. ecclesiastical_aver (8:05:09 PM): and you can ask all of my friends, and they'll tell you all the same things. ecclesiastical_aver (8:05:20 PM): and if you can't accept that, then I'm sorry. belgarionblightwell (8:05:25 PM): really? ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Oh please. Pa-simple pa. Hay nako. I've seen enough. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ecclesiastical_aver (8:05:27 PM): i believe this conversation is finished. belgarionblightwell (8:05:29 PM): YOU'RE allen yu? belgarionblightwell (8:05:33 PM): really now? ecclesiastical_aver (8:05:34 PM): did I stutter? belgarionblightwell (8:05:35 PM): hmmm. belgarionblightwell (8:05:44 PM): how would i know? belgarionblightwell (8:05:53 PM): ecclesiastical_aver (8:06:00 PM): talk to this guy: martingomez_lists ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I'm sorry, Mr. Gomez! I needed a reliable source that was online . . . ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- belgarionblightwell (8:06:02 PM): how can one stutter when he types? ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You fucking idiot. Did you even go to school? Cos, you know, that's where you like, learn of, like, something called sarcasm? *twirls hair like an airhead* ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ecclesiastical_aver (8:06:04 PM): he's my good friend belgarionblightwell (8:06:09 PM): very nice. ecclesiastical_aver (8:06:14 PM): and this guy: christian_ang2003 ecclesiastical_aver (8:06:23 PM): give them my email add ecclesiastical_aver (8:06:26 PM): and they'll tell you who I am ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Sorry, Christian! Haha . . . you were also online eh . . . ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- belgarionblightwell (8:06:34 PM): who are you? ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Wouldn't you like to know? ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- belgarionblightwell (8:06:37 PM): belgarionblightwell (8:06:47 PM): WHY ARE YOU MESSAGING ME??!!!! ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Fucker. Your I.Q. must be below 5 if you don't know why ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ecclesiastical_aver (8:06:49 PM): and I don't know if you're someone I know trying to pull a prank on me, but I'm telling you, this is not something you joke about bub ecclesiastical_aver (8:06:52 PM): listen dude ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This was it. This guy was just pestering me now. I was gonna tell him, once and for all. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- belgarionblightwell (8:06:55 PM): NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ecclesiastical_aver (8:06:57 PM): you messaged me. belgarionblightwell (8:07:03 PM): NOOOO!!! ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- No? ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ecclesiastical_aver (8:07:04 PM): you were the one that began this conversation. belgarionblightwell (8:07:06 PM): belgarionblightwell (8:07:10 PM): prove it!!! ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Fucker. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ecclesiastical_aver (8:07:13 PM): you accused me of using your name. belgarionblightwell (8:07:29 PM): i did? ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- AY HINDE . . . ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- belgarionblightwell (8:07:38 PM): oh my gosh... then what AM I doing here?! ecclesiastical_aver (8:07:41 PM): yeah ecclesiastical_aver (8:07:43 PM): see ya! ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Finally! This asshole'd get out of my way! Jeez . . . ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- belgarionblightwell (8:08:16 PM): PURPLE CHICKENS!!! belgarionblightwell (8:08:18 PM): ... belgarionblightwell (8:08:23 PM): i like food. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- What the fuck? This is just senseless . . . ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ecclesiastical_aver (8:08:31 PM): go away belgarionblightwell (8:08:33 PM): nyahaahaha. belgarionblightwell (8:08:33 PM): good bye COPYCAT! belgarionblightwell (8:08:33 PM): belgarionblightwell (8:08:36 PM): AY belgarionblightwell (8:08:38 PM): AY belgarionblightwell (8:08:39 PM): AY. belgarionblightwell (8:08:43 PM): Allen Yu. belgarionblightwell (8:08:47 PM): funfun. belgarionblightwell (8:08:50 PM): hmmm. belgarionblightwell (8:08:54 PM): i must have fun. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- No, you must get a life. And a name. And someone else to bug. And maybe a permit to go to Asia's Sanotarium For The Mentally Incapacitated, if, like, you know, you're, like, smart enough? *cyclone* ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- belgarionblightwell (8:08:59 PM): bye bye. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- As if. So, you know, clearly, you can see why I'm so pissed off at this little fucker. If anyone knows anyone that goes by this email address and happens to come from Taj Majal, then kick his ass for me and tell him to fucking go to hell. I have enough neurasthenia to deal with everyday and I don't need his neurosis added to that. Oh, and if you do know him, tag me or comment and tell me if his name really is, in fact, Allen Yu. |
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