moved .

#PleaseTellMeWhy 001

2010-04-26T21:40:00.000-07:00

#PleaseTellMeWhy strangers call out to other strangers while walking down the street. I find it odd every time I'm in the situation: here I am, completely minding my own business, having a bland Mr. Chips, when somebody - someone I don't know at that! - cries out, "Hey!" Sometimes, even, "Hi, miss!"

The worst kind is, "Pssst!"

I'm not one who simply turns around when called out to - not especially when I don't know the person. I, however, find it rather bizarre that I am intrigued by the notion of saying "Hello!" in return. Surely it must be amusing.

This afternoon, it happened again. Except, of course, I did not greet back since my companion tells me that that dude is eligible of being a pervert.

This, Too, Shall Pass

2010-04-21T23:00:00.000-07:00

Feeling listless again today. It began at dawn…

It has recently been brought to my attention that I am lonely, very lonely. And, probably, nobody would want to be left alone with me. And I don’t like writing about it because it makes me even more lonely – and lonely is so lonely alone (no pun intended).

Perhaps these thoughts are mere products of the comeback of my insomnia days. I can’t sleep anymore. Last night, I lied in bed for four hours straight, eyes glued to the ceiling. I was not even thinking about anything – or anyone, for that matter. All I know is that I was really, really bored. Nonetheless, it doesn’t matter whether I sleep or I don’t sleep since my dreams are always harrowing.

If not, perchance, it is simply because I miss things. I have not the idea which things are those that I miss, however. I just miss things. What’s worse is that nobody would care to listen, or, at any rate, pretend to listen to these conceptions. No one knows but I got a lot to say. I just never get the chance.

Then again, I presume that most everyone is distraught with my constant change of disposition: without warning, I develop into inevitable acrimony. These days, I’ve been too tired to be pleasant since nobody’s pleasant in return. I end up being cross with everyone else at the end of the day.

I don’t mean to be bitter, as a matter of fact. I guess I just don’t like amusing myself anymore or, hanging out by myself anymore. I am virulent because I’m sick of being ostracized by all and sundry. It is unfortunate that I could no longer recapture my previous fondness for silence given that, now, it is merely a pain in the ass. It gets awfully lonely at times, and I terribly dislike that sensation.

It is indeed dismal that I hold the notion that I have become simply irrelevant. Every time I think about it, I wind up feeling robotic, unintelligent, decrepit. More often than not, I am vulnerable.

It makes me miserable at night, thinking about the spectacle I have to put myself up with. I don’t know why. I never asked to be sad about how jaded I am; I just am. And it makes me livid because I don’t feel like my own person anymore. It just doesn’t feel good at all.

I have a lot in my mind; yet, I decline to think about them at all. Moreover, they all seem fragmented and strewn all over my head, and I’m horrified to even look at the pandemonium. I feel as though if these thoughts stay this way, I’m safe, I’m fourteen, and I don’t care. Whereas, by select anything out, I will, once again, be enmeshed in helplessness.

I’m afraid to draw myself against the reality at the moment. And I’m afraid of facing the blame. And I am just afraid. I don’t suppose it’s very fair at all.

And you know what else is disappointing? Everybody has bigger problems. So with this entry, I apologise for having wasted your time reading this claptrap teenage dilemma. My apologies.

Biology: Interesting

2010-04-20T21:37:00.000-07:00

As if aptly using the word 'esophagus' last night wasn't fascinating enough (I had been brushing my teeth and had inadvertently stuck the toothbrush in my throat way too far, hence, allowing me to heave a meager amount of my dinner, when the notion hit me: I, then, declared, "So the food has barely entered my esophagus!" I have not the idea whether this sentence is correct, however), I got to use another interesting word today: soft palate.

I tweeted early this morning about how I ought to blog about this incident, and here I am.

I woke up at 11AM and instaneously had my breakfast. I decided to savour a refreshing glass of Coke (with added-on ice at that!), instead of water (I don't know if that's odd for you, sexy readers, and I don't really care). As soon I was done with my meal, I started nibbling the ice cubes in my glass of Coke (indeed, it has become a hobby of mine) when I pushed the cube way too hard against the roof of my mouth, thus, allowing that part to bleed - profusely.

For three minutes, I tasted blood, until I finally settled on the idea of inserting cotton inside my mouth as to suppress the hemorrhage.

Thank Goodness I'm all right now.

What's more fascinating is that I kept on tweeting about how I 'injured' my soft palate, when all this time, I was, in fact, referring to the hard palate. : D

Anyway, I just thought it was fun to share. I never did excel in Biology. I remember the times when a few of my classmates used to say, "we're not even going to need those when we graduate!" And, "I think I broke my fibula!", good-naturedly, of course.

The Fat Bastard

2010-04-10T22:43:00.000-07:00

I never really saw myself as one who would put up with dim-witted lazy-asses by the time I turn fourteen. Would you? Hell, I never even assumed that real, live dim-witted lazy-asses actually exist! I simply thought that the Fat Bastard and Peter Bretter were mere exaggerations of Hollywood. Turns out that there are people who are far more appalling.

And just imagine living with one. Or two. Persons who act as paralyzed eighty year olds, lying on bed all day, awaiting a phenomenon. Or persons who take pleasure in narcissism (even refusing to eat - knowing that they are in charge of doing the dishes for the night). Or plain lazy assholes who watch ESPN 24/7 with the volume on seventy (not that there’s anything bad about ESPN – I’m just saying).

I got nothing much against lethargy either. I, myself, am a little sluggish ‘round the edges. But, at any rate, I got that intact. All I want is just one day a year when I’m not visually assaulted by uglies and fatties ignoramus dumbasses. To begin with, these freaks need to find their luster… because there is absolutely not a trace left in those frames of theirs. Shame.

Let’s face it: the Fat Bastard was smart. Peter changed his ways. Even those guys from Dude, Where’s My Car? managed to save Planet Earth – and we all know how annoying they were.

Who Called the Pap?

2010-04-04T20:17:00.000-07:00

I have contemplated upon this issue for days, and what I am about to write no longer bothers me, hence this exchange. I guess it never did trouble me to the extent of madness, however, it left me wondering: what was the case? Who is at fault? What was my mistake?

I later on realised that these questions are merely inane. In fact, I will gladly rant about it - Sue Sylvester style.

I've got a bee in my bonnet, sexy readers. You know what I’ve had it up to here with? Infatuated sycophants (it's beneficial to grab a dictionary this very second as to enhance your vocab - I'm just saying).

I wouldn't mind if one is a public figure to deserve relentless, creepy adulation from certain hangers-on (I'm looking at you, Britney), but just imagine if it happens to you. Why, you could be sitting next to an infatuated sycophant (that's obsessed stalker, in case you still haven't checked out your dictionary yet) right now and you’d never even know it!I got nothing much against sycophants; you can always grant them TRO's for all I care - at least, if you haven't been abducted yet. But what is it that I don't like? Looking around and realising that one of them is about to assault you on account of incredibly injudicious matters.

Is it immoral to not want a person to be around all the time? Now, don't get me wrong, I'll hang around with you every once in a while. I'll even allow you to buy me presents without my consent the next time we bump into each other at the mall. But, know that I will not be satisfied unless I get my little bit of space. I am deeply offended. Am I really that misanthropic that I seem incapable of having friends? Am I really that hopeless that I am expected to befriend psychos in this day and age? Is it me, sexy readers? Of course it's not me. I'm not the one who's seeking for a new set of accompaniment when I know full-well that I have my own modest group.

So take a little breather, sycophants. Don't even think about stationing another dismal status update on your every social networking pages - because nobody would really care.

And that's how Sue C's it.

Here I Go Again On My Own.

2009-05-22T23:51:00.000-07:00

My master risked his own life to save me from that boar. In battle I served under Tiberius in Illyricum, where with some fifteen legions he pout down all revolts. I chopped the head off a man to save my master. What am I now?

~ Flavius

You Better Never Let It Go.

2009-05-21T23:32:00.000-07:00

AND THE RESULTS ARE IN...

ST. MATTHEW PO AKO. >______________>
{or as those Sophomore freaks would call it: Santo Mateo. Fuck, right?}

Walang mag-iingay kung ano'ng section ko ah? :)

Pareho Kami ng Burger Ko.

2009-05-20T23:30:00.000-07:00

The sight of a person writing had always seemed to me as a person who has nothing to do. One must not be very important, but, one has needs. And one writes it down to take all the monotonous details out of the picture.

Right. Whatever that picture is.

Tonight, I am that one. How ironic it is to sit in front of my vanity mirror, trying to picture myself as another person and trying - fuck's sake - to not look at the horrendous map of pimples on the left side of my countenance. I, ladies and gentlemen, am barely exaggerating as I translate this in text.

How entertaining, my inner critic, is he not? :)

Eh-neeway! Guess what else reeks!?!?

Ah. Yes. You got it now.

THE ~~VOTES~~ SECTIONS ARE IN!

Oh. Em. Gee. Dee. Ay. E.

2009-05-18T23:27:00.000-07:00

It's not fair that a boy could be so much prettier than me. :D

Chutes And Ladders.

2009-05-15T19:00:00.000-07:00

City lights are pretty.

They blind us with red and yellow, white and gold flickering irridiscence. And the colors make us wonder that we forget what we were thinking of hitherto. Yet, we take in the scenery. Because it's breathtaking and almost beyond compare. So, we shove our hands in the back pocket of our jeans, walk into these blinders and just wonder of such surrealism.

But, I haven't seen them in a while.

Only imagined.

Except, every imagination has its imperfections. Night by night, I used to visualize myself actually walking through these lights. Five minutes of repose could perhaps drive me to sleep. But, no. There's always that something right around the corner of the city that pulls me down into the depths of self-pity.

An hour-long of self-fucken'-pity. >_______>

{Deleted for personal issues.}

Bending over backwards.

2009-05-11T19:19:00.000-07:00

I thought I was going to die this morning when I woke up. :)) Literally, everything flashed before my eyes; it was insane. But, meh, you know.

And Damn - You're Free!

2009-05-01T16:10:00.000-07:00

MAYROON NA RIN AKO'NG POSTER NI JEFF HARDY!

-- SA WAKAS! <33

In a city that never sleeps.

2009-04-30T23:02:00.000-07:00

{-} End self-centeredness; start self-denial.
{-} Start working; not procrastinating.
{-} Stop ego-tripping; begin with humility.
{-} Think first; not later.
{-} Release negative; think positive.
{-} Decrease denunciaton; FIND THE BEAUTY IN UGLY. :D
{-} Try smiling.
{-} Avoid making promises.
{-} BE SMART!

We feel safer at night.

2009-04-28T22:00:00.001-07:00

Jeff, Jeff... Jeff, Jeff... I'm sorry 'bout everything. I'm sorry about it. Leaving you off the road. I love you, Jeff, I love you. Jeff, listen to me: I. Love. You. We're brothers. Jeff, we're brothers. Brothers are the strongest bond in and out of the world. Jeff, don't listen to them. I've always told you don't listen to them. It gets you in trouble. Jeff, Matt loves you. Matt and Jeff: The Hardy Boys. We can do it again. Jeff, Jeff, our mom - in heavens, she's looking down on us. She wouldn't like this. Our dad's at home - sick. Dad... Daddy wouldn't like this. Please. I love you, Jeff. Jeff, I'm sorry. Jeff... Jeff... ! I... I quit! I quit!

~ Matt Hardy
WWE Backlash 2009
[Jeff Hardy vs. Matt Hardy; iQuit Match]

All that is left is all that I am.

2009-04-26T16:00:00.000-07:00

I am disappointed that I did not sleep early, again, last night. If I remember correctly, I had only started "daydreaming" about Leonardo DiCaprio when the clock chimed nine times indicating that it is already three o' clock in the morning. And that was when I truly fell asleep.

And how or why that clock works that way, don't ask me.

It's always agitating every time I try to daydream myself to sleep. I constantly have to remind myself not to think about my tasks for the next day for they always keep me intrigued that I can barely sleep at all. Still, it's almost unattainable for me to do just that. I end up thinking about the next day anyway. Until the clock chimes to remind me that I should get to work. It takes me two hours to drift off. But, usually, it depends on how early I sleep. The earlier the longer.

Had I only slept earlier last night, I could have caught up with the Spongebob episode (guest-starring Johnny Depp) on Nickelodeon at 10 in the morning. >_>

I woke up at eleven. Or so. Either way, I'm still annoyed with myself.

Brings my mind back to tonight.

2009-04-20T20:44:00.000-07:00

Just last night, I wandered yonder somewhere I thought I might not go back into again. Your past is your past. Well, yes, it is. But that doesn't mean I'd have to let go of it so competently. It's a thousand light years away for the bruises on my ego to recover. I cannot bear to just "forgive and forget" because I know that that act might eventually morph into one of those "mistakes" that I'd done once before and swore to never execute again. I cannot bear to stay out of my comfort zone because I am not ready to understand. I am scared that my bypast might haunt me more than it is haunting me now.

Well, last night, I concluded that I do not want my life to end that way. And after four years, I went back to the reality of who I really was.

I simply - SIMPLY - read my Grade 5 journal.

The writer was young yet cantankerous in every form there is. The adversity of her biography was a mere perception of a mean girl a la Regina George wannabe. I was insulted with the way she construed the word "hate" as if it was the most common utterance that people should hear from her. But then again, I was amused by her consecutive use of curse words ("bitch", preferably the most whored).

I believe that, despite of it all, the writer was vulnerable. It's sad to think that in such an early age, she has already tattooed in her mind that everybody around her detests her. Offtimes, she is frustrated whenever karma brings her down. Afterwards, she would blame a person for this and a person for that. She pointed out that she was being bullied, but, little did she know that she was being a bully first.

I feel sorry that the author of that journal had to live in condemnation even for just a short period of time. I know that it seemed like a lifetime of misery to her. I feel sorry that hatred penetrated her brain like this and that she used up all her knowledge for all the wrong reasons. I feel sorry that I have to become ashamed of her. And that it took me four years to realize who I really am. Or was.

The words that I had written appears irrelevant to me presently. I remember the events that took place but I could not remember what was going on into my mind those days anymore. Nor do I recall what it felt like anymore. It was as if I was in the bottom of the ocean for a long while. It definitely feels great to be out of the water. It just all seems silly to me now.

But I admit that I have not completely let go. This was just my first step of getting there. I was a lost soul. And now, I am trying my best to condone my actions and finally - finally - get it right.

I was proud of that girl once, swear. It took me this long to forget her. It will take me longer to forgive her. It will only be a matter of time before we are both just a figment of each others' imaginations.

The woman was large and unattractive, she was vain and arrogant, she was lazy and spiteful, and miserly too. There was, though, one thing which redeemed her, and that was her voice. It was the voice of nothing less than an angel. It was a voice that could murmur soft and low and soothe a bawling child, that could rise shrill and clear and shatter a mirror and that could slide so sweetly over a melody that a killer might sit down and weep. With her voice she had made a good career, and a small fortune that she kept to herself.

~ The Book of Dead Days
by Marcus Sedgwick
[pg 42]

What I Lost When I Let Go.

2009-04-15T19:15:00.000-07:00

Civilization is going insane because of the weather.

Every morning, I wake up and try to get out of bed ASAP because the bed is ridicoulously hot that I feel as if I'm being toasted just by lying on it. Unfortunately, I end up lying down again since it feels safer than brushing the tangles off my hair. But, these are just some of the little reasons why hot weather sucks. Others include:

You can't get up to shower because it is hot even to just stand.

You can never get a satisfied seat in the house unless there's air blowing off in your every direction.

You can't get up to switch TV Channels.

It gets frustrating to clean plates and glasses 'cause you will have to sweat for a long time. A LOT.

A lot of lights in the house are turned off 'cause "overheating" might cause damage (or so I was told).

You can't rant about it 'cause the hot temperature prevents you to speak a single sensible sentence.

It causes singaws and headaches.

You tend to get dizzy.

You experience fatigue.

Meh. You get the idea.

I keep wondering when we will get to enjoy the effervescent meaning of summer once more. If it actually has a meaning anymore. >_> I'm surprised I even gathered to courage to write here. Eh.

Was Beautiful.

2009-04-03T22:03:00.000-07:00

I find it hard to be "likeable".

I think I am the most distant member to everybody else in the family. Perhaps it's because I'm the "girl". Or perhaps because I'm the youngest. But, that doesn't make sense. Hm, it's probably because every time I try to voice out my opinion, it's either I don't get a reaction or they get annoyed.

I feel like Raja from Aliens in America. Whenever I ask a question, that question just sucks the fun out of everything. Well, it's not like I planned to be so outspoken!

Fire back in your lungs.

2009-03-19T23:08:00.000-07:00

I thought that I'd be... uh, sadder.
But, I wasn't.