Saturday
POSTED AT 12:09 PM

platinumangel

This was mostly weird.

Christian goes to my house and we have a bit of fun, then we dispatch, and Alex drops us at MegaMall, where I run into my mom and Drewy going to the car, and Christian and I rush to the theatre.

So we nab tickets to A Series of Unfortunate Events (At this point, Christian gets a bit paranoid and bugs me about snatchers and stuff), and run to PowerBooks. We grab some Javaccinos (blessed reincarnations of Fr/Cappuccinos), and i get Five People You Meet In Heaven.

We go to meet Jackie in National Bookstore, get lost, are told to meet her at PowerBooks, then at Toy Kingdom, then at the exit nearest Toy Kingdom, and as soon as Jackie sees me, she sticks a hand out of her car, and then grabs my wrist, gets me checked through the counter thingy at the entrance, and grabs my wrist again, then run-drags me to Christian.

So we dash to the theatre, get tickets and run in, where A Series of Unfortunate Events has already begun (curse the lateness), and they are at the scene where Jim Carrey plugs em in a car and they're about to get run over. Jackie leaves to get Elle, Walter and Dwight.

They come back and I tell Christian to get popped corn (yeah, it was super unfair of me to tell him to do it, and I realize that now . . . but it didn't at the time.).

So he gets Coke and Popped Corn (his treat pa! This guy talaga, I swear, frickin future saint!)

And we watch. When it ends, we hang around the theatre some more (Walter and Christian fuss over their Filipino Magazine) and run off to the Mega Trade Hall 3, and we come back again. On the way, we stop by some kitchenette shop and i snag pictures. I also apologize now to Jackie, whose arm I strained when i twisted it behind her back.

So the bagpipe guy is there again, and we decide not to go in, and hang around the outside and snag a couple of pics.

So we go to National Bookstore, where Dwight gets his stuff, and after a brief everyone-looking-for-everyone stint, we go off to bowl. On the way, we make snarky comments about how the snow above the skating rink is just soap suds, and how some idiot might open his mouth and imbibe the said soap suds and die.

So we run and bowl, and Christian kicks my ass (was there ever any competition?) and i run off to go to my driver and leave. But he's not there. So I wait and read my new book. And wait.
Reading: How To Read a Person Like a Book
Listening to: Minsan lang kitang iibigin... minsan lang kitang mamahalin...

Today is . . . different . . .
POSTED AT 12:40 PM

platinumangel

Today was spectacular compared to other days. Nothing much happened in the beginning, but it got much better as it progressed. Or, worse . . . THEN better.

Observe:
7:30 to 2:30: Pure crap. That's all I've gotta say about it. Oh but in Science period, i was able to do some group thingy with Christian, and when we came to the Van Allen (whoo wee) Belt question, I put it in the Mesosphere but it was supposed to be in the Thermosphere. When I realized, i instantly yelled a prompt "Fuck!" LOLZNESS.

2:30-2:45-ish: Waited for the driver. Who wasn't there. Damn him.

2:50-ish:

I walk into the Canteen-y place and am fully set on getting myself some juice when, half-way there, I hear Christian shout, "Allen! Over here! Hang out with ----(the "----" means I don't know that word. The numberof "----"s does not correspond to the number of letters)!!!!" I thumbs-up him and go to the counter thingy, grab two cookies, then go back.

So I approach the table, where Christian, Evan and Earvin are, wave, exchange pleasantries, and then Christian insists on getting all of us juice. He trivially asks me what flavor i want, and I tell him he doesn't have to do this for us. He ignores and asks Evan what I like. Evan says Apple. Christian leaves for a bit, then comes back with an entire box.

Earvin stares and goes, "Grabe . . ."

But turns out, Christian only got four pieces, and asked for the box. We were shocked. Haha.

Chitter Chatter, and Barney arrives. We chat about nonsensical stuff. Evan confesses that the only reason he said that I liked Apple was because he liked Apple. Stab. Stab. Stab. Die.
At least it wasn't screwy Orangey stuff.

So jibber jabber. Christian leaves. We talk about Evan's crush (and i saw her last night. VERY GOOD TASTE.) and then mine, and then Earvin decides to go. And how come HE doesn't have a damn crush, huh?

*I'm doing this in Computer period too, Jackie.

So when he leaves, I make a crack about there only being three left out of the five, and we ask about Barney's crush. He takes out a pic and shows us. The face strikes me as familiar, and I ask who just as i take the pic out of the card thing and see the name of the person just as Barney says it. **** **!!!!!!! AIYYEEEEEEEEEEEE

Well he professes that everyone knows her naman eh. So blah di blah, and we talk about how ** *******, her crush, flirted with her, and the whole romance, telenovela-worthy drama/jealousy runs rampant and i give him advice.

And the greatest, most unexpected pleasant surprise occurs.

Just when I profess earlier that I wanna be a psychologist, Evan tells me i SHOULD be a psychologist. And Barney says I'm good. HOW COOL IS THAT?????
Yes, shallow, shallow me . . .

So blah. The end. We jibber on. And I have yet to post about other days in school. This sucks. So many ideas, so little time, and WAAAAYYY too many typographical errors for me to correct. Crap. OC NESS!!!!!!!!
Listening to: Ciara's One-Two Step.

And the song of the day is . . .
POSTED AT 07:23 AM

platinumangel

SINCE U BEEN GONE by Kelly Clarkson

It's stuck in my head . . . Since you been gone . . . I can breathe for the first time . . . I'm so movin on . . . yeah, yeah . . .
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Here's the thing
We started out friends
It was cool, but it was all pretend
Yeah, yeah, since you been gone
You dedicated, you took the time
Wasn't long till I called you mine
Yeah, yeah, since you been gone
And all you'd ever hear me say
Is how I picture me with you
That's all you'd ever hear me say

But since you been gone
I can breathe for the first time
I'm so movin' on, yeah yeah
Thanks to you, now I get what I want
Since you been gone

How can I put it, you put me on
I even fell for that stupid love song
Yeah, yeah, since you been gone
How come I'd never hear you say
I just wanna be with you
Guess you never felt that way

But since you been gone
I can breathe for the first time
I'm so movin' on, yeah, yeah
Thanks to you, now I get, I get what I want
Since you been gone

You had your chance, you blew it
Out of sight, out of mind
Shut your mouth, I just can't take it
Again and again and again and again

Since you been gone (since you been gone)
I can breathe for the first time
I'm so movin' on, yeah yeah
Thanks to you (thanks to you)
Now I get, I get what I want
I can breathe for the first time
I'm so movin' on, yeah yeah
Thanks to you (thanks to you)
Now I get (I get)
You should know (you should know) that I get
I get what I want

Since you been gone
Since you been gone
Since you been gone
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Kick. Ass.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
There was something that happened yesterday. Leigh comes running past, between me and Henry after an especially boring period of Soc. Sci. He cuts and knocks my water jug down onto the ground. Just as I scream "Gago!" at him, and finish swearing under my breath, some female voice says from behind, "Who was that guy?" I turn around and WHO should I see but . . . Ms. Lampa, of all people. She barely knows me. But I guess she's the "fight-for-rights, die-hard" activista type. *shrug*

And she asks, "Is he your friend? Did he just do that as a joke?"
I answer, "Not really . . . we're sort-of friends. Hardly."
And she continues, "So rude . . ." and I walk off, pleasantly surprised.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Reading: How to Read a Person Like a Book
Listening to: Since U Been Gone by Kelly Clarkson (duh!)
Feeling: Like I'v finally moved on

Reminiscing
POSTED AT 02:12 AM

platinumangel

Today, I texted my ex-teacher (who had begun to teach at Ateneo when I heard last) from fifth grade, Mr. [Edward] Brian Sy Beng, if he was still teaching.

He replies, "Who u?"

I say that he obviously didn't add me in our last text exchange, then reveal that I'm his ex-student, and that it's safe to say.

He replies, "You're frm xavier. My phone has a limited capacity. My apologies."

I apologize for the sarcasm, then ask him to just answer the question, and I'll be out of his hair.

And he replies, "I run my own business allen. *he puts that freaky smiley thing here that looks like a "u" with a horizontal colon on top* **** ** ******* ** *******. Not a problem."

I reply something that sounded like, "Your own business? I can only dream. The best of luck to you!"

And then he says, "Fundamentals are always there. We simply gain new layers. (this reminded me of Mr. Martin Gomez for a second. I have NO idea why . . .) Thanks allen. Good luck to you as well. I do plan to pass by **** (my school) sometime this month."

And I say, "I will take some time to digest that. And sir, I'm going to ****** this on the thirtieth."

And he says, "Hmm? Another *******? Am planning to do so myself. Will txt y when i'l be paying xs a visit."

And I say, "Great! Not a ******* actually. I'm only going there for ******. Do you use YM? (Yes, JackieCam and Ienne, flame me about gayness, why don't you?)"

He hasn't replied yet.

*sniffle* I miss pissing him off. Oh, and now I'm talking like Cammy! Ay PUKI naman eh!
Listening to: Bulong by Kitchie

So much joy.
POSTED AT 09:48 AM

platinumangel

I have been coughing my lungs out the entire day today.

And yesterday. Joy, ano?

I must get Take Me Away by Christina Vidal. Downloading it this very second. (Thanks, Camille.)

I must see The Phantom of the Opera and Constantine.

I must rent So Close again.

I must get through with all this bullshit called Quarterly Finals/Tests in order to not-live in peace.

I wish to play Neverwinter Nights. Again. Can't let Andrew beat me. Can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't can't CAN't!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!



. . .





That dun even sound like a damn word anymore.

I cannot seem to remember how to spell Michael for any long period of time. I always get somixed up. Micheal looks right too. I had to stare at his nametag for a full minute to ingraine it into my head.

And I twisted his arm just enough to stare at his watch for three full minutes (i counted).

It's amazing that he isn't annoyed by me yet.

I saw Michael's wrist. It's so goddamn interesting! So many conflicting stuff. There's alcohol (take note, when i mentioned this, Paolo and Alvaro suddenly crowded over and were like, "Oh, shit, pa'no mo nalaman? Galing, a!"), sports, etc.

The most unique combination I've ever come across. And . . . there was nicotine too. What the heck is up with that????

Lastly, i had to read the others' wrists too. And sadly, they were expecting a goddamn fortune teller.

They were all, "How many babies will I have??? Who's my future wife gonna be??? What will i be when I grow up? What age will I die???"


Jeez.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
Other than interesting ness in his wrists, there's an overly disgusting side to Michael too.

He's part of the "cool" group in our batch.

So naturally, he is appropriately wacky and childish and immature and gross.

The other day:

At the canteen. Get burger. Pour too much salt. Gag on burger. Michael sits beside me. Lifts shirt and starts feeling his bilbil. IN PUBLIC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I try not to act disgusted and keep eating, turning away.

He keeps feeling. Hands go up to his nipples. Gross noh? Yanks at the hair surrounding the dark aureola. I am near barfing just writing this.

And I bet you're almost barfing just reading.

Starts feeling himself up. Then hands roam down to . . . that area and undoes belt buckle. Goes down to inside pants.

I almost barf. On my food. Instantly get up and leave, kicking chair. They laugh. They f-ing laugh.

What the f-ing hell is their problem?????? Damn them.

Damn them all. Icky. Icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky, icky.

Icky!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Listening to: Eres tu.

Two days. Left.
POSTED AT 10:11 AM

platinumangel

Breezed through Science and English today, but the worst is yet to come. I can't stand this anymore. Soc. Sci. and C.L.E. tomorrow. Then Math, then the achievement test thing, then freedom.

Counting.

Counting.

Counting.

Dinner tonight with Mr. Boden, and tomorrow, Hell day.

Just focus.

Played NWN. Neglecting to study.

Got the Platinum Edition of NWN. Speaking of platinum, Evan (Jackie, kilala mo 'to), Raffy (SCWEAMY DOOOD) and I were talking about platinum as we approached the Golden Dragons thing near Gate 2 kanina during recess (they were excempted from the English QT. I missed it by 0.5. Go figure.).

I tell them my dad says Platinum is referred to as white gold. Riiiight.

Evan asks if it really is actually gold, and I say that it's not REALLY gold, but it's just the moniker (someone asked me what this meant before . . . Christian? Nah . . . Sino kaya yun???? Hmmm . . . memory fails me . . .).

Well, got the new edition and it's got new spells, but I can't seem to sell "stolen goods" to Aribeth [de Tylmerande].

My Wizard (Anyndur) is so powerful naaaaah!!!!!!!! YAYYAYYAYYAYYAYYAYYAYYAYYAYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I love Combust. (To all of you who've breezed by level three already, shut it! I'm going at my own pace!!!!!!!!!!)
Listening to: Bigla by 6 Cycle Mind (Alex just mentioned it to Andrew)

I'm free . . . but am I happy?
POSTED AT 11:09 AM

platinumangel

Bombed in Math. Breezed by Filipino. And when the countdown ended, the delayed movement of the unsure class was suffocating. Pag-aalinlangan.

Suddenly, everyone moves out, and I follow suit. The world wisps by me, whiffing "I'll miss you"s and "Bye man, it's been a great year"s. And I'm suddenly above, and beyond, and below again. I'm memorizing every detail of Xavier, every niche and crevice.

Whoever thought that letting go could . . . would be so hard?

Leaving seventh grade behind was a blessing. Leaving High One resembles a sucking void.

I ponder the thoughts swirling in my desperate head, which has just realized that I've got about an hour and a half left of High One life ahead of me . . . and then that's it. It's all over. I'm outta here. The H1 patch'll be gone.

 

And then it dawns on me like the marigolden burst of sun ascending from the opaqueness of the green marble stairs. I can't let go. I love my school. I love the inhuman tests, the impossible expectations, the testy teachers, the non-English speaking students, the long hours . . . I love it all. And I never want to let go. Ever.

 

Why? Why does it hurt so much? Maybe it's the beauty of High School that I plunged unwittingly and blindly into on my first day.

Maybe it's the fact that I've always had trouble letting go of things that have become endearing to me. Maybe I just don't wanna get out of my comfort zone.

I scoff at my own thoughts. High One? Comfort Zone? Oxymoron.

 

You're probably bored to death and utterly confused right now. Well, no one can comprehend the depth of my understanding. It hits you like a train in the length of time it takes a person to stand up. It fuels into you like a powerful, storm-driven tornado. Everything, all messed up in your head, but the message--the first and foremost message so startlingly and undeniably clear. All of it, whole, within the dark beauty of understanding.

And then the connections come. Fulfilling. Completing.

 

I'm sad, and thankful, and longing, and disbelieving. It's all over.

 

And I'm on the sidewalk, heading over to my car. And I get it: I've left Xavier School. I've left it there, the immortal foundation that it is, sealed with its marble and rock, but characterized by its spirit.

Pick Alex up, get his bag, drop him at Gate 2, sweep home.

I'm asleep in the car. Asleep mostly. It calms me, rationalizes my thoughts, tempers my passions. Like meditation.

And when I awaken, I'm at home. The simple push of the computer's "on" button moves me, rocks me to my core. I'm free.

 

I'm utterly, undoubtedly, irrreparably and ineffably free. Of everything, the emotions, the daily torture, the ton-heavy workload--everything. The elation threatens to explode, and the sadness brandishes its ever-welcome discipline.

I'm really free. Well, for the summer anyway.

Listening to: Prom by Sugarfree. Ask Alex.
Feeling: Liberated. (ew haha)

First Day
POSTED AT 11:14 AM

platinumangel

I strode into the classroom, the very picture of confidence and calmness. Darn, this backpack was heavy!

I glanced around the room, looking for familiar faces. I found none. Still, I had high hopes for the rest of the day. My first day as a High School student.

“This should be fun,” I muttered to myself. It was the first day, what was there to fear? Just get through the day sitting around the room, getting to know your teachers, your classmates, being oriented with the rules and regulations—

I was abruptly brought back to reality when I saw a classmate of mine, one that I hadn’t met yet, lob a piece of chalk across the room at another classmate of mine, who I also didn’t know. He ducked, and the chalk shattered as it collided with the bulletin board, leaving a white stain at the point of impact on the yellowish cartolina. That was when I actually took in the entire class, raising hell.

Or not, I continued my thoughts. I moved to my table, which was at the opposite end of the classroom from where I was standing (at the entrance door).

Dropping my bag onto the desk labeled “40 1B”, I freed myself of the straps that bound me to the accursed thing. I bent down to the shelf at my desk’s left, where some water jugs were already placed, albeit hastily. Thrusting my own orange-purple Coleman into the available slot, I straightened from the action.

In half a second, I glimpsed the world outside my classroom. The canteen walkway that I had passed so often back in seventh grade when I went to harass my brothers in High School to come home came instantly into view. Then, I caught sight of the green plastic chairs, stacked in twenties, visible through the window connecting to the aforementioned walkway. The other objects zoomed into view—a tree, the catwalk-like bridge high above, and the ground, which was waylaid with mulch. Lots of it.

My head subconsciously turned around, following through with the originally intended action, but my mind kicked in again and I did a total double-take.

No wonder High School students love it here so much, I thought, shaking my head to clear the nostalgia of days abroad, with sights, scents and impressions of things I loved—the coffee-and-bread aroma that you would smell in cafeterias, that air-condition-like crispness of the air outside, the ability to walk in not-so crowded streets.

I pulled my chair out from under my table and heaved my bag onto it. Unzipping it, I pulled out the standard stuff—the personal planner that I used instead of an HSCN, the hard-plastic envelope that contained my pad paper, and my plastic-covered long folder that held my bond paper, art paper and other such paraphernalia. I dropped the said items on my table, then moved to take out my books.

Mid-motion, my hand froze. I realized that I had no idea what my first three subjects would be. Memory kicked in as my brain automatically skimmed the information pooled from the moment I woke up. It wasn’t like I had photographic memory or anything, but I was quite good at remembering details. Reaction jolted my nerves, stopping me from the imminent drift to that world of daydreaming. My body threw itself into my regular, brisk pace. I went out the back door and approached the entrance door. There, stapled, was the class schedule. I looked it up and down, trying to get the details.

Chinese, Social Science, Mathematics, I crammed the information into my brain, and even mumbled a bit as I repeated it to myself. “Chinese, Soc. Sci., Math, Chinese, Soc. Sci., Math, Chinese, Soc. Sci., Math . . .”

I reached my desk and, mentally holding onto those words, pulled out the corresponding requirements. Arranging them in my locker-desk-thing in such a way that they fit with space to spare, I zipped my bag up and hooked it on the back of my chair. Then, I sat down in it and relaxed. But even as I did, the air around me seemed to thicken as a precognitive lapse warped my vision and . . .

Flash.

First grade, stepping into the classroom, seeing these kinds of chairs, with drawers beneath them, sealed with a locker.

Super-speed to fourth grade. Last day, leaving the desks, walking out, the last I’d ever see of them in Grade School . . .

Flash.

I had been sitting here for twenty-five minutes, give or take. All of us were dead silent. There were occasional noises, like the chair moving, a wayward cough, an object dropping, but it was more or less quiet.

Footsteps were heard for a few seconds as a person approached our classroom. A brittle tension gripped the room as our class adviser, Mrs. Eusebio, entered with a key jangling in her hand. She unlocked the computer unit in our classroom, turned it on and waited for a few minutes. Not a muscle moved. She fumbled with the machine for a while longer before, with a facial expression of slight confusion, turned and left.

            Long exhales could be heard as she did. I rolled my eyes.

A sense of trepidation and foreboding washed over me in ripples as thoughts shot in my head, most of which were at different degrees and angles, but were of the same point: It was going to be an extremely long day.

The woman has a boyfriend!
POSTED AT 12:55 PM

platinumangel

Yah. She does.

Bashta.

You shan't understand me.

Err, yesterday . . . played NWN (Chapter 2!!!!!!!!), went to Arvin's party: Came at 11:08, made Arvin's closing speech for him.

Met his parents. They have doubts of his (by the way, no less than excellent) conduct in school.

Waited.

People came in this order:

Me

Michael/Tongfu (whichever name he uses now) Lin

Filbert Tiu (tranzer)

Rod Kim Lascano

Richmond Tong

Walter Wong

Edrian Dy

Spencer Yu Galan

[John] Jovic Sy

Evan Chen

Paolo Sy

Stamford Lee

 

Ah, the wonders of a cellular phone.

Then the thing began and there's this dude with a Mr. Ng-ish accent that has got me reminiscing of assemblies in school. Evan says that Mr. Ng has a far more sophisticated (ouch) and interesting (double ouch) accent.

Okay. So, we do stuff, and sit around docile, and then we get food, eat, chat, eat some more, get jailed (we were wearing jeans. Yes, fashion police, attack. Now where's that damn rolling-eyes emoticon? Hm . . .).

Snag a couple of shots, go to get Iced Cream (they were out of Mango and Ube so we got stuck with cheese. With real cheese slabs in em! Dammit, where is that rolling-eyes emoticon?).

Just as we decide to go over to Paolo's house (that kind, selfless saint . . .), everyone just disappears!!! Except Evan, Stammy, Arvin and Walter. Arvin's gotta stay (naturally. It's his party and it ain't over yet. And even when it is, he's gotta stick around for the goodbyes), Walter is playing some Star Wars thing, and Stammy's leaving na ata. So Evan and I are left to ponder.

We walk out into the road, walk far into the right, turn around as Evan calls Rod (mentioned above), walk straight, turn around again as he misinforms us of the location of Paolo's house, then turn around again, going left now, and move forward (Paolo has taken the phone from Rod's hands at this point).

Evan calls his mom and I text mine. We're both prepaid. Yes.

Evan talks in fluent fukien and I am in awe. But he has that americanized, clipped, half-said-y accent. Like he's cutting the intonations in half or talking through gritted teeth and intentionally not pronouncing the words out fully, just keeping them tempered. You don't have to mind that.

ANYway . . . We find Paolo and are sweating profusely (remembered a mental note that I set to myself while at this point in the story thus far: sun and 1/4 polyester shirts: volatile combination.). Rod and Michael make snarky "bilisan niyo nga diyan" remarks, Evan apologizes (just like him. Haha . . . JOKE, Evan!!!!!!! Don't kill me!) and I scream a defiant "Tumahimik nga kayo diyan, mga suplada!" That silences them.

We approach and they concoct some kind of spontaneous, on-the-spot-thought-of game where they tell the maids to hurry up and open the gates so they can lock us out. Blah.

We reach them first--just as the gate opens. Linger in the hall for about ten seconds before going into that movie-ish place at the center of his house, and see them running up the stairs. Follow suit (the guy with us is wondering whether we should remove our shoes. Evan says probably not cos Jovic didn't). We run up, try the doors and mistake one (kwarto pala ng magulang niya!!!! hahaha . . .), then find the right one.

Knock.

Them: Who's there?

Us: Us!

Me: Who do you THINK it is??? Sino pa ba, hah????

Them: Err... What's the password???

Evan: *pissed off* Michael is annoying!

*door swings open*

Paolo: Step right in . . . Hahahahaha.

Eh???? Chitter, play a primitive version of Super Smash Brothers (the I-don't-know-what-it-was-basta-it-had-only-eight-main-characters (Fox, Link, Jigglypuff, Kirby, Pikachu, Donkey Kong (it's a girl!!!!!) and some others.)) on some console and play with weird Mother-of-the-three-Incredible-kids-that-has-the-freaky-long-arms-rubber-torso-high-heeled-boots (just WHO does she think she's impersonating, Don[n]a[tella][Versace, for those of you who don't know]?).

What a creep. Jovic makes disgusting green remarks to Evan (who just moments/minutes/hours ago was making cracks about me and my green mind (SUSHI!!!!!!!!! Yes, Jackie. Sushi.), who, in return, and as a silencing gesture, pushes his head away with an emphatic "Yuck! Jovic! Ano ka ba???"

Can't say I blame him.

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

Flashback: Saw some remark on paper. Australian Math thing. '$8.00 per head" . . . Friend shows to Henry. Henry: You're . . . That's . . . You're disgusting! You're disgusting! ... Banter banter. If you didn't get that . . . then we haven't met.

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Finally, driver arrives and we go home. People, if you don't comment . . . you're all cowards. Incomprehensible marionettes. Speak your mind.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Weight of the World by Chantal Kreviazuk

I used to carry the weight of the world

 

and now all I wanna do is spread my wings and fly

 

 

I don't know why I was

 

So afraid all the time

 

Memories seemed

 

To bother me

 

My whole life

 

 

I used to carry the weight of the world

 

and now all I wanna do is spread my wings and fly

 

I used to carry the weight of the world

 

and now all I wanna do is spread my wings and fly

 

 

I don't know why I was

 

So ashamed

 

Such a waste of time

 

And I don't know

 

Who I was trying to be,

 

All those lies

 

 

I used to carry the weight of the world

 

and now all I wanna do is spread my wings and fly

 

I used to carry the weight of the world

 

and now all I wanna do is spread my wings and fly

 

 

Ohhh

 

and there's always something

 

somebody right behind

 

but we're not meant to be

 

everything

 

we're just a piece

 

so spread your wings, ohh

 

 

I don't know why I was so afraid

 

All the time

 

 

I used to carry the weight of the world

 

and now all I wanna do is spread my wings and fly

Listening to: All I Ask Of You!!!!!!!!!!!

Freaky illusions, Mr. Sebs and Arvin's party.
POSTED AT 02:32 PM

platinumangel

Quite the array of unusual topics, neh?

That picture down there without people? Stare. Is that a giant wing? Well . . .

I'll tell you now. It's not. It just looks like one. Cloud formation and shadows deceive.

Err, Sebs. Conducting concert. Jerky motions. Need I say more? he sang a version of that Mabuti Pa Sila song . . .

 

Andrew sang Eres Tu and he was GOOD. Or, the other two people were back-up vocalists that made him SOUND good.

Err, James Dee/Dy (? Someone verify) sang this song that had a real high last word and he blew it. Twice. Ouch. S'okay man, you did great anyway. Just try to use your falsetto.

Perkin Chai and Lorenzo Mangubat did their flute-violin duet thing, then Lorenzo and some other guy with a double violin arsenal, and then Perkin alone with his flute (urgh . . . Subliminal Messages of Nursery Rhymes with Florencio Sebastian haunts me. Thank God he wasn't playing a fiddle. SHUDDER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Anyway, this band thing sings two songs. They leave (thank God), and the glee club returns and sings Earthkeeper, Circle of Life and . . . that other song that I can't remember.

Mr. Sebs sings, then Ms. Natividad makes her speech, and we all leave.

Pictures of Arvin's thing. Pictures of Glee Club. Random picture of a wing.

Check. Gallery. Now.

Listening to: Follow You Down by Gin Blossoms
Feeling: rushed

The Entry, Word of
POSTED AT 01:55 AM

platinumangel

Beginning today, as of nine-fifty am, the eighteenth of March, I shall begin to add a "Word/s of the Entry" in each of the succeeding entries. Yeah.

Today's "The Entry, Word/s of":

Unguiculate: adjective

-Having or possessing claws.

Lozenge: noun

-a figure with four equal sides. Possesses two acute angles and two obtuse. (a diamond, if you're having trouble picturing it)

-a small, often medicated candy. (drugged sweets)

 

 

Crappit. I must play Neverwinter Nights. I'm starved. Two days. Two whole days. Without it. And it's summer pa ha!!!!!!!!!

Listening to: Follow You Down by Gin Blossoms (really good)

Sudden Bursts of Inspiration
POSTED AT 01:47 PM

platinumangel

I just had the strangest urge to write about something that I'd felt strongly about for a long time. Hope you enjoy it.

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I sat on the porch, holding a tissue-wrapped glass of lemonade in my hands. There was a light mahogany desk in front of me, where I placed it and sipped occasionally.

I was lost in thought, and it felt calming. We were all tired from our road trips and decided to just chill at Ryan's winter house, except it wasn't exactly winter--just the house.

In the distance, an swept over a hill and rattled into the garage to my left. It was Drew.

"Hey, hey, hey." A voice with a distinct Americanized twang said to my right. it was undoubtedly Ryan, but my head turned to check anyway. For a fleeting moment.

"Look who it is." he continued as Drew got out of the car.

"Hello, Ryan. Had too much coffee this morning, did we?" he shot back. I grinned inconspicuously. These two could banter like good and evil.

"Or maybe someone's been riding the driving high again . . ." Ryan replied, not giving in.

Before Drew could snipe back with his prepared lash, i cut in with a merciless, "Hey! Enough out of you two. You're both about as mature as six year old kids!"

"Well, why do you always cut in when I'm about to snap back?" Drew whined, laughing as he cleared the steps in a single bound. His smile about shriveled up into a guilty, dying look under my glare.

Ryan burst out laughing this time.

I rolled my eyes and reclined into the bench on the porch. These boys would never learn . . .

"How about a beer?" Ryan peace-offered.

"Nah. Just some water'll be fine." Drew replied, nodding to him.

"Alright. Just gimmee a sec." He entered to house and Drew sat beside me.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he said, trying to look as far into the distance, attempting to see what I was apparently spacing off to.

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Err... right now, whatever inspiration i had died. I will continue another time.

Weird Nostalgic Stuff
POSTED AT 07:35 AM

platinumangel

Word of the entry:

totipalmate: having all four toes united by a web

toter: one that totes (ah!)

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I was sifting through my old stuff today (My folder is called WORLD REVOLUTION) and i saw the So Close animations I had gotten obsessed with all of last year. Thank God that's behind me now.

I also decided that I wasn't going to miss most of my tags, so i deleted all of them. All clean.

In my opinion, a sudden, abrupt change with my layout, tagboard and posts included, might make it seem like I cleaned it out, but in real life, I'm not very comfortable with the prospect of "sudden change". It's like saying, "I'll just be a whole better person tomorrow." and then making it happen.

Now where most everyone could, it would be very hard, rather than a gradual change.

 

Back to the topic, I saw some of the old ranting of mine with Jackie and her barkada, and even some flaming with maki90. Hahaha . . .

 

And where burying it with tags would attempt to leave it far behind me, I'm actually erasing them when i cleaned it out.

So there you are, a gradual site-lift.

Yes, Jackie. Now that I HAVE changed its name again, you'll be the first to know. Now how about that LAYOUT CHANGE you were going on about, hmm?

. . .

 

Alright.

ForAllYouKnow has added a beautiful, light blue-black-ish feel to my Tabulas site, and the change was welcome. But in the time that I've been ForAllYouKnow, I've grown so much. And I think it's time for a little reminiscing.

Not only that, ForAllYouKnow has added an aura of mysticism, but Half-Angel is who I am.

Half-Angel depicts my identity.

 

So, I guess that means Half-Angel's back, guys.

Yep, I'm back.

Listening to: Weight of the World by Chantal Kreviazuk
Watching: Kitchie.
Feeling: refreshed

Just A Little More
POSTED AT 12:10 PM

platinumangel

One day. One FULL day before I go back to that pristine, untouchable paradise.

And then, at nine fifteen on Wednesday, I shall have left for it, and on Wednesday THERE, i shall arrive.

IN THE MEAN TIME . . .

Word of the Entry! Whahoo! Hahaha . . .

Demimonde:

- a class of women on the fringes of respectable society supported by wealthy lovers: PROSTITUTE

Synonyms: whore, wench, harlot

Phlebotomize:

- to draw blood from

 

Anecdotey thingy: A Glimpse of Life In My Family

The Question in Question:

A glass is filled to half with water. Is it half-full or half-empty?

The voice of reason. Me: "You can't really tell because the glass is sloping. You'd have to pour it out, then get the same amount as the remainder, then measure if it's equal."

The voice of duh. Alex: "It's both, you *random expletive*"

The voice of science. Andrew: "Well, in order to get the derivative of the ratio of content volume to space remaning, you have to measure the height of the glass, multiplied by the dynamic volume of the glass, divided by two, which would then be equal to the actual amount, thereby allowing you to gauge its equality-ratio with regards to each other."

The voice of jest. Dad: "You know what the motto of this family should be? Paralysis by analysis."

The voice of the workaholics (and the subsequently A.D.D.).            Mom: "*stares vacantly at you* *looks at Dad* *rambles about work*"

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Other quotes:

"Is cancer cancerous?"

"What's the difference between the white lines on the road and the yellow lines on the road (referring to the rules on overtaking, of course)?" "The color."

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

I shall TRY to update daily while there.

Listening to: Maybe Tomorrow by Stereophonics
Feeling: like 2 days is 2 long.

The Canadian Chronicles: Prelude
POSTED AT 06:56 AM

platinumangel

Words of the Entry:

Invective: an abusive manner of speech.

Kef: a dreamy state of tranquility.

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I am presently at the Japanese Airlines (JAL) airport in Narita, and I must say, this is a heavenly place. Super clean, super high-tech (this IS their IT Station I'm using.

So anyway, i shall begin recounting to you what has transpired so far:

I woke up sometime this morning and began getting ready.

Leave the house at six fifty. Flight is at nine thirty.

Get to checking in, then go to the clearance area place, exchange goodbye texts with Jackie, Cath and Chris (ran out of load here) and then run through to the waiting area, mom buys stuff, we go board the plane and are soon off.

Somewhere in the flight, we hit lots of turbulence, and Andrew just has to comment. He actually does so often. Then i continue reading my self-written story, and then we land, etc. and arrive here. Snag pictures (which shall be included in the gallery SOON! (when I return)).

I MUST learn to speak Korean!!! I must, I must, I must . . .

Reading is kind of easy for me (thank you, Henrison) and we shall be leaving in two hours. For Canada. Yes.

This is in Japanese time. The succeeding ones will be Canadian time. Meeting up with Rachy and Court!!! Aiyeeeeee . . . so excited!

So I shall stretch my legs now, and drift off into beautiful, calming reverie staring at the view outside. This is the end of the prelude.

Reading: This.
Listening to: The strangely calming, muffled sound of the airplanes outside.
Watching: The planes and the sky.
Feeling: three weeks is too short

The Canadian Chronicles: Day 1.
POSTED AT 09:30 AM

platinumangel

It's the thirty-first here, but April 1st there.

Oh how I don't miss home.

Saw our place. Cozy.

Slept.

Woke up and ate dinner. (It's around 9:40 pm)

Leave for Starbucks with Rachy and Court (With Jay along too!)!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I miss them na.

Drink hot chocolate. Come home some time between twelve and one.

See Auntie Bambie playing WoW (So you can't sheep me!!!). Watch Futurama. Not making sense.

 

Go to the rooms. Am at her house, at 1:28 in the morning, updating Tabulas. Will update today's day later...

Not sleepy! i swear, that hot chocolate had caffeine. I can't sleep.

Still here............

1:29 . . .

Reading: This!!!!!!!!!
Listening to: Courtney and Andrew chatting behind me.
Watching: THIS!!!!!!!!!!!
Feeling: quixotic