it's just that falling flat on my face happens to me so many times that for some people it's already sort of defined who i am, and so i started not minding committing every possible faux pas.

but sometimes, when it's been a day of one too many mistakes or a tad too sensitive a slip (of the tongue), sometimes, really, it just feels horrible, like when will i ever get anything done perfectly right?

and then i just grit my teeth and convince myself that it will come out alright eventually. so i manage to get up and go on. but you know, the slight limp from the repeated falls hasn't quite gone away yet.

i missed yet another layb meeting. IVs is over, i'm not supposed to have an excuse. i miss layb. i feel sad that i do not feel compelled to attend because i've nary written a single nice verse or whatever for a while now. it's four am right now and maybe it's just that i'm hungry (i suddenly felt this huge craving for a cheeseburger - weird), but the thought in my head right now is: if i'm not good in math or in analytical thinking and i'm not even a credible creative writer and everyone else dabbles in art and music, e di siyett, what will the world get from me? doomistic. heehee. I've been thinking of all those times i've knocked my head on all those walls and doors and tables, and maybe it's affected my cerebral activity somewhat, you know? maybe the brain damage is starting to manifest itself. yup, any explanation to remove the blame from my own personal suckiness.

I want to mind being not perfect, but it's so difficult to pretend i can become perfect.

***

maybe the problem was he always thought it was all about him? maybe the problem was that when i was feeling sad, he couldn't make me feel happier? and that when i was feeling cheerful, i couldn't completely share it with him? that sounds terribly selfish of me as well... but it's just that when i think of him, it's not a happy thought. mabigat. for some effin reason. rawr. i mean, maybe he hasn't completely let go of that self-concept of him not being like anyone else in this world.

ewan ko. ayoko naman siya baguhin (oy nagtagalog) nung summer. hanggang ngayon. ang hirap makipag-align. naalala niyo yung laro natin nung maliit tayo? yung matanda iduduro yung index finger nia, tapos yung bata itatapat yung index finger niya dun. yun. ang hirap gawin nun. sino pasmado? siyett. di dapat gumagawa ako ng paraan diba? kung gusto ko talaga. kaso ayoko na. yun lang naman siguro yun. kanta na lang. rawr.

***

kahapon. the speechcomm102 classes went to the batasang pambansa. Sir Gupa and I went to represent the speechcomm1 class (hehe). siyett. all my pictures were blurry when i uploaded them, so i won't post anything here. the high profile congressmen were absent. it was a relatively boring session. now we understand why it takes ages for a bill to get passed, and why the awry decisions have the most simple explanations. solution: vote wisely. nyahah. but i'm serious. i mean, if the elections in 2007 would still happen.

oh, and by the way, as a consequence of that biglaan field trip and my accountabilities with the parliament, if i die right now, i officially die as a starving young artist. where's the justice in this world. i really want that cheeseburger.

wahhhh... i'm really really down right now. that's all. :(

***

(my longtime crush is thisclose to finding out i like him. other times i wouldn't have minded, but you see, right now, there's the perennial other him, and then all those other people i've taken an interest to recently. ohmigod. define magulo. i sound completely fickle. so that's where all these came from.)

ang chaka ng title. yung halo-halo, mga 25 na sangkap yung nilalagay mo sa baso mo, tapos may yelo, asukal, at gatas. yung kaning baboy, mga 25 na tirang ulam at kahit anong medyo mangunguya pa na may kasamang langaw at amoy. yung halo halo matamis. yung kaning baboy ewan ko. yung halo halo mahal sa chowking saka sa mall (and i find that really sad because it's supposed to be kanto fare, right?). yung kaning baboy libre namin binibigay kay aling tomasa dati (hindi ko alam kung saan nakatira si aling tomasa o kung bakit ang tanda tanda na niya nanghihingi pa siya ng pang-kaning baboy, basta alam ko may pinapakain talaga siyang mga baboy dun sa lote nila. naalala ko tuloy dati takot ako kay aling tomasa. tsaka kay mang tony. si mang tony lasenggero kaya buhay pa. si mang tomasa matagal na namatay. basta isang araw hindi na lang siya naglakad sa gitna ng kalye namin.) yung halo halo malamig. yung kaning baboy nilamig. yung halo halo, kakainin mo sa maiinit na hapong wala kang magawa. yung kaning baboy, kakainin ng mga baboy dahil baboy sila at wala ka nang magawa sa mga tira mong pagkain. bakit ka ba kasi nagkakaroon ng tirang pagkain? para ipakain sa mga baboy.

wala lang. pareho lang kasi silang magkakahalo. sa totoo lang marami naman talagang pagkain tayo na "halo-halo" ewan ko bakit halo halo lang tinawag na halo halo. chop suey, pakbet: halo halong gulay. saka alam niyo ba yung kuwento ng chop suey at ng sinangag? e diba mga tirang ulam din nila nung nakaraang gabi yung mga iyon? wala lang.

****

tapos na Ivs. gawwd, that was one tiring draining challenging hotttt weekend. did i have fun? sure, relatively. did i learn stuff? lots. did i mingle? not much. did i showcase exemplary debating skills? rawr. but you know, what the heck. :D

****

sampaguitar. :)

****

may exam daw kami sa fil21.

****

jesus, i feel horrible.

The first
UPLB INTER VARSITY LEAGUE
september 15-17 2006
up Los Banos.


kinakabahan naman ako. hehe. wish us luck! :D saya naman. hehe. hope everything turns out well. :D

hay nakooo. i have cramps right now, and all day i've been using it as an excuse. lovely. =) but that's justified, don't you think? i mean, especially if you've had cramps ever in your life. so when you have cramps, don't mope - do the nice feel good stuff and then say, "i have cramps." all right.

can i also blame cramps - or pms? - for my horrible debate scores this week? hay. you know, i'm really placing an immense effort into downplaying my dismal performances and removing all the self-consensus ideas, but really, when you have something concrete like scores, it's really in your face, you know? and IVS is next week. Lord help us.

Lord help us. can i also blame cramps for the really silly thing i did this morning? i'll stress over that next week. I. need. gold. hwaha.

can i also blame cramps for this really silly perky pacute way i'm writing right now? hwehe.

maybe it's also my cramps that's making me imagine that everyone around me's happy right now. what's with this season that things fall into place for all them other people? and then here i am, you know, as usual - - oh wait, there is SOMETHING (again!!!) going on right now, right? i mean, i can't put my finger on it, but there's really something. kumusta naman ang timing. so of course, i really really really do NOT feel all this stuff right now. okay? i mean. i mean. i mean. let's talk, alright. but. no more. of the old stuff. shit, ang labooo... hmm. hindi ko maisip kung ano sasabihin. hwahahahahahahahahahah!!!!

what else can i blame cramps for? hmmm. i plan to raise my scores until saturday and then i'm gonna go home and - there, go home. okay? hwaha. ayoko na. abstract pa. pero itutulog ko muna ito. heehee. persuasive speech. hmm.

then we'd all gladly sin. NOT. hehe.

you went to see the devil wears prada, didn't you?



no more about the vogue comparisons, ok? and no more about the clothes. yes, we all wish we could have an empire cut jewel green dress to wear with a big belt cinched right above the waist, or be able to pull of a schoolboy look with gold bling, or wear black all the time without looking like we wear black all the time, but of course the movie was more than that. :)

it was of course, a feel-nice-about-MYself movie, appreciating all those nice clothes and shoes, knowing who patrick demarchelier is, remarking that one of Priestley's editors looked like Andre Leon Talley, and getting starstruck over the cameo appearances, but if you're not really into magazines, into clothes(!), into Anne Hathaway, into Meryl Streep, into writing, New York, or lame boyfriends, then maybe you're not gonna get much from this movie. when Andy's boyfriend remarked that the real relationship was the one going on between Andy and her boss, well, he was right. I think if Miranda were a guy you could've added sex between them in the movie and it would've been all right. Andy also told Christian Thompson that if Miranda were a guy, her habits and sadistic tendencies would've been lauded by everyone ("What a fine hardworking man!"), instead of the reputation she had. Well, that's something for the feminists (since i'm a, uh, chauvenee, no comment about that) to smile about in the movie. Merryl Streep is greeeaaat. Anne Hathaway is gorgeous. the clothes should've been part of the cast heehee.

but really, do we say that Andy transcended and won over her antagonist in the end? i think Miranda Priestley wasn't even her antagonist. And Miranda sure didn't end up on the floor. would Andrea really be better off writing for the Mirror and cuddling non stop with her chef boyfriend?

the movie gave me more food for thought than i looked forward to. the lines are funny and encouraging. and everyone looked really really good! :D

******

oh, that was NOT a movie review, and I'd understand if you got confused over the sentence structure, or skipped the paragraphs entirely. anyway. back to business (doing layout for the uplb ivs programme. it's already in two weeks! super excited/crazy/scared. and i'm still short of the minumum solicitation. help, help, help).

*****

HAPPY 18th BIRTHDAY JUSTINE! :)
one of the best people in the world - and one of my loveliest oldest dearest most talented most creative and most beautiful friends - is eighteen today! :) i don't know how you and the rest of the turtles still put up with me even though i always miss out on the gimmicks (they were at eastwood last night). anyway. happy birthday. you're a big girl. go catch them by the neck. mwah. :D

i can breathe again. =) thank you.

watch subtext - next week's the last run. brief but very brilliant. and get to see my super talented batchmates =)

it figures - the moment one becomes surrounded by pilfered copies of the works of Nietsche and Camus (and all those other people whose names spell different from the way they're pronounced), gets to watch palanca-winning plays, spends two nights a week tuning up, once a week attending poetry work shops, having too little money, running around like hell, SA-ing, forgetting, laughing, flirting, crying, eating, sleeping (?), oh, and attending classes of course - -

one has nothing to write about anymore.

instead one get engrossed in totally UNliterary problems like captured ATM cards (i still don't know how to tell mama about this), programs, computer viruses (there's one on my portable right now. HELP), finances, dengue fever, world organizations, the junking of the PI, forms for the plan of study, deadlines, mud, heat, sweat, and more pilfered copies of required readings.

i do not want to write about all of it. they keep my brain fucked up enough in my consciousness already... i used to revel in dishing out details verbatim, but that was only for those days when i had itsie bitsie "worries" and i had time to spare to magnify and glorify them. all i want right now is something like a super wave reductor gun that i can beam to these problems so they'd just become random lines in a blog post. you know, this must be partly the reason i like clothes so much. outfit problems are much easier to solve, and when you're thinking of them, it's easy to forget the others. buti na lang hindi drugs, no? heehee.

but right now, i'm at home. i. can't. move.

suicide sounds so good, and so pathetic at the same time. i can't pick. actually, i take that back. i hate seeing words like "kill me kill me cruel world" on other people's blogs.

har. bahala na. bahala na. i hear Bo Sanchez talking while grinning: "give it up to God". Who? harharhar.

***

eto. i wrote this like a year ago, during my first college xmas break, i think. and i thought i could finish it, but i never got around to progressing after the two paragraphs.

strawberry eraser

The past several days, it seemed to her, had been a blur, a flurry of events and emotions that all happened too fast, to soon, and almost instantaneous; that when it was all over, and she was resting as she was now, it seemed that in her head, everything just melted into a gooey mess. She didn’t know what to feel. She didn’t know what to believe in. she lay in bed, eyes opened. It was late in the night, and she couldn’t fall asleep. Her mind was like a video on fast forward, flashes of memories racing across her mind, coupled with words, sounds, and other sensations. Her heart was beating fast. She closed her eyes, and his face floated above the other mental pictures, clear and intrusive. She opened her eyes again and sat up in bed. There was no way she was going to fall asleep, not when that boy kept lurking in her thoughts. She sighed, got up, and walked to the window. The stars were big and bright against the summer night. There was no moon.

If there was, she would have noticed the shadow on the street.


It was pretty late, but he was still walking. He was lost in thought, too preoccupied to feel uneasy about the darkness. A wind blew, and he shivered. He drew his jacket closer, and placed his hands inside his pockets. An unfamiliar bump made him stop. He drew out his hand. It was an eraser. Her eraser, the one shaped like a strawberry and smelled like one, too. In spite of himself, he smiled. She was so fond of quirks. She liked being different. After all, how many sophomore students still used strawberry erasers? She was extraordinary. She was special.

He looked around, and was surprised to find himself on the too-familiar street where she lived. His footsteps, so used to walking her home, had taken him there unconsciously. And there was her house. And there was her window. She was probably asleep, dreaming in color. He walked right up on the front and looked up.

And there she was, leaning against the window. Staring at the stars. Awake. Even from afar, he recognized her sad expression. She was probably sad that there was no moon. Because she loved talking to the moon, too. And when there was no moon, she called him up.

A big lump rose at the back of his throat, and he shivered again. He felt his eyes hurt. He looked down and walked away. He still cared. Cared too much. He still loved her, and the thought that she wouldn’t be by his side made him feel strangled. He quickened his steps to get home.

The girl, on her window, was silent while the tears fell from her eyes.

***

heehee. i don't know if i heard it somewhere or it only got born in my head, but after that i had a line about how writing breaks down everything. and does it not.

how will i get the ATM card back without mama finding out???

***

seriously, i don't even think about love anymore. maybe that's why everything's been boring. but i still want hugs. =(