Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night :)

Longing.

You've been in my mind all day. No, I take it back. You've been in my mind all week. You're all I can think about. Honestly, I've been staring at photos of you, all the while deciding whether to pick up the phone and call for you or not. My heart is telling me to give in, but my mind is trying to stop me.

I don't care about where you're from. I don't care about the hands that have touched you. I don't care about the potential damage that you can cause. I don't care if I have to pay for you.

I need you. I will find a way to get you. You're worth it.

Revel bars, I must have you.

Blah.

It's one of those days wherein I'm feeling down, angry, and invisible instead of happy, perky, and invincible.

I've been feeling feisty for the past 24 hours, and trouble has been brewing in the air. The littlest things are getting on my nerves, and I can't just let them slide for some reason. I need to mention it. I need to point it out. I feel like I'm almost always on the verge of picking a fight with someone (whether with good reason to or no reason to whatsoever), and I'm really trying my best to hold back and shut my trap. I really am.

I don't know why, but there's just so much anger bottled up inside, and I don't know who these negative vibes are supposed to be directed at. What's worse is that I'm even feeling this way while playing UNO on Facebook! I was so frustrated when a random stranger from somewhere across the globe made me draw four cards, then another two, then skipped my turn! ARGH!!! WHAT IN THE WORLD DID I DO TO YOU!?

Forty Winks.

People who take sleep seriously bow down to the powers of Tempur mattresses and pillows. My brother-in-law takes his Tempur pillow with him when traveling for work. I don't know what it feels like, or what effect it really has (except for the stuff I've read on their website), but I've always wanted one--but they're so friggin' expensive. But of course, you can't put a price on a good night's sleep, right? I used to remind myself that one day, it will be mine. I will lay my head on a Tempur.

The problem is--I'm torn.

I'm torn between Tempur and... Airmax.

**As mentioned a few posts ago, I'm a Home TV Shopping addict. I've never exactly purchased anything from the Home Shopping Network, but this is really something else! This ad is SO convincing!

If you've seen the Airmax ad, I was caught hook, line and sinker by the demo where they dropped an egg in all these beakers representing the material that makes up different kinds of pillows. It was only the Airmax beaker that supported the egg right away AND prevented it from cracking! WOWZA!!!

Just by watching the ad for a few minutes, I instantly realized how uncomfortable my pillows were. My pillows are either too flat or too full, and no combination could ever suffice! I was also shocked to learn that my spine alignment when I sleep is HORRIBLE! What am I doing to myself!? How can my neck still be attached to my body!? (Fine, fine, I'm exaggerating!)

Since seeing that ad weeks ago, I am haunted by the image of my spine becoming misaligned while I sleep. I suddenly feel that my neck is strained, and find myself adding another pillow, then taking out another pillow, then punching my pillow, then fluffing up my pillow. The cycle is endless.

Is it normal for someone to have such weird thoughts before they sleep!? Who thinks about spine alignment?! Neck alignment!? What in the world is happening to me!? IS THIS NORMAL!?!

My neck and spine are not at peace. They will never be at peace unless I make a decision.

To Tempur or to Airmax? To Airmax or to Tempur?

The After Effects.

It's been exactly one week since typhoon Ondoy has hit the Philippines.

For the past seven days, thousands and thousands of homes have been submerged in water, mud, and trash. Thousands and thousands of people have been living in evacuation centers, or staying at a relative or friend's house, because it is practically impossible to live in the pile of mess that they once called home. Too many people are starting over—from scratch—from zero.

Seven days after this catastrophe, many families are still living on the second floors of their houses and crossing roofs in order to buy food, because their street has turned into a river.

It's extremely unfortunate that this typhoon has caused so many people to suffer the loss of their homes, their belongings, and their loved ones. This horrific typhoon was unforgiving, and ripped several cities to shreds.

But, Ondoy also began to piece together a country that badly needed healing.

A bunch of random words are all jumbled into my head at the moment, but in a way, they are all connected: Bayanihan. Heart. Selflessness. Conscience. Prayer. Inspiration. Generosity. Sacrifice. Love.

Over the past few days, everyday heroes have emerged. This generation used everyday technologies such as cellphones, social networking sites, blogs, and even Google spreadsheets to help fight the battle.

This generation is finding ways to help—whether by donating money or goods, volunteering their time and energy, lifting up prayers, or even disseminating important information to family and friends. Even overseas, Filipinos and Non-Filipinos alike are sending donations in cash and in kind.

You can see the overwhelming support by the empty shelves and unbelievably long lines at the supermarket—each grocery cart holding boxes and boxes of food items.

You can see the renewed sense of unity by the way human chains and assembly lines are forming in hundreds different relief centers across the country, aiming to get each bag of relief goods deployed as soon as possible.

You can see the willingness of people to help by the way that other relief centers are turning down volunteers--because there are too many people willing to lend a hand.

The call to action has been so heartwarming. We are not direct victims of Ondoy, but that doesn't mean that our eyes and hearts have not been opened by it. The Filipinos really did need a wake-up call—and thankfully, in our own little ways, we stepped up to the plate.

I’ve honestly never been as proud to be a Filipino as I have been this week. I am part of a generation that up to a week ago, I believed was rather apathetic. I’m so, so, so incredibly humbled and happy to admit that I was wrong.

The Home Series #2

My parents are complete opposites when it comes to cleaning up after themselves.

My dad is the most organized person I know. Everything is arranged systematically--from schedules of bill payments to the way the contact list on his cellphone is arranged. He makes a schedule, and unlike most of us in the real world, he is able to stick to it. When he tells the family that he wants to leave the house at 5:00PM--you better be ready at 5:00PM.

My mom, on the other hand, is... not like my dad at all.

My mom is a woman of many, many great talents and abilities--but being conscious of the time is not one of them. Rarely does it happen that my mom is ready and dressed before my already-outside-dad is honking the car horn, getting more and more impatient by the second. At this point, my mom probably wouldn't have an outfit or bag ready, and would still have rollers in her hair.

Of course, with mom always rushing to get dressed, there's no way that she can clean up after herself before leaving the house. There will always be a light still on or a drawer still open after she closes the bathroom door.

After going out one night, my dad went ahead to their room while my mom was still in the kitchen. My dad found the bathroom in disarray. This time though, he wanted to teach my mom a lesson.

My dad proceeded to turn on all the lights, open even more drawers and cabinets, scatter toiletries all over the dresser, throw clothes and shoe bags on the floor, and even turn the chair over. He winked at me, then went to bed.

When my mom finally got to the bathroom, she exclaimed, " Oh my God! Dad, what happened!?!"

My dad casually woke up and replied, " I don't know! You left it like that when we left!"

To which, my mother retorted, " Of course not!!! These are your shoes!!! "

The Start of Something New.

... unfortunately, this isn’t the case for us left behind.

My brother and his wife left the country this morning, ready to start a new life. As dramatic as it sounds, for the rest of the Icasas family, it feels more like an ending rather than a beginning.

When the two of them got married in January, we already knew that this trip was already part of their plans. Once they had their marriage certificate in hand, the papers for my brother’s citizenship began to be submitted for processing. All that was left to do was wait.

As the months went by, it didn’t really dawn on me that they were leaving. Since the first week of May, I've had the pleasure of being at home with them almost 24/7, as my brother had already resigned from work in order to focus on preparing for their big move.

Pretty much every day, my brother, his wife and I would get our laptops, gather in one room and do our own thing—but together—so that we could turn on the aircon. My Dad would sometimes join us in the same room on his laptop, and my parents liked to joke that we were all officemates, with my Dad as our employer. At lunch, the five of us (with occasional visits from the siblings and the babies) would eat, and make fun of one another. I was around (a little of the) family all day long, every single day. I loved it.

Eventually, my brother's visa got approved, and tickets were booked. The couple began to slowly pack their belongings in six suitcases. Two weeks ago, the family planned one last out-of-town trip together.

Since their plans to leave was finalized, everyone has been telling me that it will be okay, that we can always visit them, and that technology will make things so much easier. I know that it's all true. I know that it's a really great move for them, and that they're off to begin a new and exciting chapter in their lives. I'm happy for them. Really. But nothing could ever beat having them around.

Last night, we had one last family dinner together at the house—all ten billion of us. It was a usual night of Icasas banter and making performers out of the babies. But when it was time for the other siblings to go home, the goodbye hugs were lengthier. Then it hit me. They were really leaving. I had a difficult time falling asleep, because I knew that when I would wake up, it would be time to bring them to the airport.

This morning, the family was bustling with activity. After loading the bags into the car and eating a quick breakfast, the family gathered around to pray over the travelers. Of course, us sisters cried. Afterwards, the four cars full of people and luggage convoyed to the airport. It was my family’s first time to experience saying goodbye to a migrating family member, and we all wanted to be there.

As soon as everyone got down from the car, the hugging began. Us sisters hugged them and cried, then hugged them again and cried again. As we all went our separate ways, the remaining Icasas siblings sent text messages to one another with nothing but emoticons of sad faces.

What I wasn’t prepared for was the overwhelming surge of emotion that hit me. I knew that I was bound to shed tears (the Icasas sisters aren’t known for their ability to hold back tears), but I wasn't expecting the heartache—the amount of sadness that came along with it.

My parents and I came home, and I seemed to be the only one miserable. My parents seemed nothing but strong these past few days, repeatedly saying that they were really happy for the couple, and that God really wanted this to happen in his grand scheme of things. For the past few weeks, my mom has been trying to figure out what to do with the sudden spare room in the house.

But when my mom went in my brother's, she went out with tears in her eyes. She sat down, put her hands in front of her face, and wept. My heart broke, and I wept again.

I was so emotionally drained today that I took a really long nap, and woke up pretty much in time for dinner. I didn’t realize that my parents had a meeting tonight, and that I would be eating alone at home. Once again, a wave of sadness hit me. My “officemates” don’t live here anymore.

I’ve cried about a billion times since I woke up, and I don’t know when I’m going to be able to stop crying. They've been living here for the past few months, and now, the house is quiet and in a way, the house is empty. Their room is empty. I feel empty.

I can no longer knock on my brother's door to have him kill a cockroach in my bathroom. I can no longer convince him to have food delivered because there's nothing meaty for dinner. I can no longer make fun of his hole-y, beaten up t-shirts. I can longer give them real, live hugs--which makes me sad, because I should've done this much, much more when they were living with us :( I've gotten so incredibly attached to them over the past few months, and I don't know what I'm going to do now that they aren't here :(

A letter to the makers of Marty's Cracklin'

Dear Marty’s Cracklin’ makers (aka Oishi),

As I sit here on this fine Friday night eating my midnight snack of your salt & vinegar flavored vegetarian chicharon and a can of SMB premium malt beer—I can’t help but ask questions.

How can something so salty—so vinegary—so delicious—be made of vegetables?

In the listed ingredients at the back of the package, only dehydrated green peas, vegetable oil, and garlic powder sound like anything remotely healthy. Are those three ingredients already the factors that make this chicharon “vegetarian”?

Just how many green peas do you need to make a recipe? How come our green peas at home don’t taste like your chicharon?

Are green peas your main ingredient? Because if so, a friend of mine would like to ask—if green peas are the main ingredient, how come the chicharon isn't green?

There’s another thing! How can it have 0 grams trans fat, and 0% cholesterol? How can something so sinful be… not so sinful? It’s impossible.

I hope you don't think I'm a philosopher (pilosopo in Filipino), I just really wanted to let all my questions out.

I don’t know what you’re doing, but you’re doing it right.

Sincerely,

KVI.

The Little Things.

My mom turned 61 years old today (and no, she doesn't look it at ALL), and we had a really yummy family dinner at Aquaknox in Makati. I don't know if it's the extremely unhealthy amount of seafood + Vietnamese coffee I consumed tonight, but I'm feeling hyper... and I really, really just wanted to blog about some random things.

* Yesterday, an almost two-year old Anda was eating a banana while running around the house. She suddenly stopped running and said, "Uh-oh. No more banana."

* I had lunch with PJ (my brother) and Kenelm at the ATC food court today. Afterwards, PJ and I went around the mall because we had to do some errands. It was nice being with him for the afternoon. I'm savoring it--because I know that he'll be leaving for Canada really soon with his wifey. Okay, okay, I will not get sad yet, I will not get sad yet...

* The funniest thing happened today. The waiters at Aquaknox brought out a cake from the kitchen and started singing "Happy Birthday" to my mom... only to realize that my mom had left the table because she went to the restroom. The family was laughing hysterically while motioning to the waiters to go back to the kitchen and do it again when she came back. Note to Aquaknox waiters: Look before you sing.

* I'm amazed at how long the family dinner table has gotten. We used to be a family of seven. Now, we eat out and we reserve a table for 12 (JV included, of course!)--a table of 14 if you count the two babies. The usual scenario now is that one side of the table laughs loudly, the other side gets curious, and you have to repeat the joke.

I love it.

*end of random post*

Rain.

I want to shower right now, but I'm honestly scared that the lightning will make its way into the water heater and scald me to death.

Sad, Schmad.

Today was a day of sad news.

The first piece of news that greeted me when I woke up was that my brother's immigrant visa arrived in the mail. Come the second week of August, my bro and his wife will be moving to Canada--indefinitely. But I shall save the sadness for another day. I'm happy for them, although my happiness for them is nowhere near the amount of heartbreak I'm feeling. For now, I'll make the most of their presence while I still see them 24/7. Sob.

The other piece of news had to do with my career. I was planning on... doing something. That something would've made the future a tad bit brighter for me (and JV), and help me get on the right foot with regards to... something. But this certain thing didn't work out, and all I get out of it now is a P3,000 refund and absolutely no idea what to do next.

To top it all off, Vic is still #1 on Typing Manic. I was so happy on the top spot, but then he had to beat my score by a lousy 20,000 points. I've been trying to beat him the whole day, but all I've won so far is a possible case of Carpal Tunnel.

But it's okay. I'm okay. It will be okay. As my mom reminded me a trillion and one times today, things happen for a reason. Asides from my depleting bank account, things are going great. I'm doing great. I know that great things are in store for me. I just have to claim it :)

The Home Series #1

Being at home the past few weeks made me realize that even at home, you should expect the unexpected.

I thought the afternoon was going to be a relatively boring one. As usual, I planned on spending it in front of the computer, with nothing but iTunes to keep me company.

Suddenly, my sister-in-law came in the room and asked me if I wanted to have some puto to snack on. Not being able to say no to food, I immediately accepted the offer and followed her into the kitchen.

There, I saw my mom busily moving around.

"We're going to have a tea party!" she announced excitedly.

I looked over to the kitchen table, and saw that true enough, she had three table settings all ready for a tea party. When my brother announced from the garden that he would join us, she eagerly set another one of her pretty place mats on the table, and reached for another teacup for my brother.

The sudden inspiration for this strange occasion was her newly purchased teapot from Daiso, the 88 peso store. Yes. Her new teapot from the 88 peso store started this all.

Before we sat down for afternoon tea (three out of four of us still in our pajamas), my mom asked me to take a picture of her hard work. Then she wondered if she should prettify it further with a vase or flowers or something. Of course, our eagerness to begin the "party" won in the end, so we sat down and began to drink our tea. With our pinkies up, of course.

So there you have it. An afternoon tea party with my mom, brother, and sister-in-law. There were no flowers on the table, but there were pretty place mats, a pot of Japanese cherry tea, puto, kiwi, fruit & nut bread, and a LOT of enthusiasm.

I wonder what's in store for tomorrow. A mad hat party, perhaps?

Moping.

Hi! My name is Kris and I'm a Home Shopping Network addict.

No, I've never actually purchased anything from there, but boy, I've drooled over too many products.

There's something strangely addicting about the fake acting and such excessive, false enthusiasm over such simple products. Annoying, but addicting.

On most nights, I fall asleep to the soothing (and I repeat, annoying) voices on the telly, trying to sell me things I didn't even know I needed. Hairbrushes, chopping and juicing machines, cleaning solutions, vibrating slimming mechanisms and other extremely random items.

Oh, but last night--I found IT. The solution to all my problems. Well, at least the problems I'm bound to have when I've started a family and have my own house.

This is the SPIN & GO (or at least, it looks like it. I can't seem to find a photo of the real thing online!).

This is the answer to all your cleaning needs. You can use it for high ceilings, under furniture (you can move the handle up to 90 degrees!), on cars even! According to one woman's testimonial, her cleaning time shortened from more than an hour to only twenty minutes! Wowza! Now THAT's a product!

I. was. floored. The science behind it is genius--and they really paid attention to the cleaning needs of today's housewife.

And for only P2,995! It was originally P500 more, but they slashed the price, and even threw in an extra mop head. Now THAT's a steal.

And I admit, I texted JV (who I think was also watching from his house) that I wanted to buy one eventually. He said we'd see. Yay! :P

The only negative thing I have to say about their ad was that they showed clips of people sniffing their old, wet mop heads. Although I know they did this to prove a point that the SPIN & GO dried quickly and had no smell and dirt on it, therefore not being a breeding ground for bacteria like the other wet mops left in a corner... but did they really have to smell their mop heads? Who does that?!

What really bothered me, what I couldn't understand, is that right after the SPIN & GO, there was an infomercial for this:

This is the STARFIBER. It doesn't have nearly as much to brag about as the SPIN & GO. It's nothing new, right? The SPIN & GO on the other hand... ahhhh.

Up to now, I can't understand why they would put such competing products side by side. They already said the first one was revolutionary--the first of its kind--so what about this one?

Talk about conflicting.

Unfortunately, I fell asleep before I could find out more and judge for myself which seemed to be the better buy.

Although really, I think the SPIN & GO is the way to go.

Poltroon.

Okay, so pretty much everyone (who has to drive for me) knows that I can't drive. Is that a flaw? Yes. I'll admit it--I'm scared. I'm a nervous rider. So sue me.

Unfortunately, that's not why I'm admitting I'm a weakling.

Let me tell you a story.

For the past couple of days, I've been having little anxiety attacks when it would be time to sleep and turn off the lights in my room. It's not that I'm scared of the dark or anything... (well fine, that's another story).

You see, one evening, I stood up from bed to turn off the lights by the door of my room. When I was about to press the switch, I noticed that there was a long strand of hair stuck behind the light switch. After a couple of seconds, I realized that there were TWO strands of hair caught between the wall and the light switch. And then. It hit me.

IT WAS A COCKROACH.

The so-called "strands of hair" weren't moving, and I knew that the vermin was dead. But just knowing that there was a cockroach right there--right under that thin light switch panel--holy crap. No words could ever describe the mixed feelings of disgust, panic, and fear.

The annoying thing is that I kept forgetting about it--until it would dawn on me during the evening that I hadn't asked anyone to take it out. I would always curse myself for being so stupid, turn off the lights as carefully and quickly as I could, swear I'd have it taken out the next day, and go to sleep.

This afternoon, I finally remembered to tell my dad about it. He took a look at the ferocious insect, laughed at me, and let it be.

Thank God I asked one of the helpers to get it out. Tonight, my wall is cockroach-free. My light switch is accessible. I'm free.

The thing is, I have another problem.

There's another cockroach that's been appearing in my bathroom for the past three evenings. The first night, I saw it in the shoe cabinet (mental note: wash slippers with alcohol tomorrow). Of course, being the brave soul that I am, I closed the door and ran.

Last night, I saw the cockroach crawling on the chair in my dressing room. I made sure the closets were shut, closed the door, and ran. I poured half a bottle of alcogel on the chair this afternoon.

I also asked the helper (who saved the day by getting rid of the first cockroach) to leave a can of RAID in my dressing room. Tonight, I would be prepared. I would be brave. I would be ready.

But tonight, I saw it scampering about on the bathroom tiles. I hopped my way back to safety. I looked around for the can of RAID... and didn't find it.

Panic.

And this is the story of why, at 3:30 in the morning, I went downstairs to pee.

Angel.

Happy birthday, sweetie.

31 days.

It's been exactly one month since I resigned from the fast-paced world of magazines, contributors, and deadlines. I've said my goodbyes to strangers-turned-officemates-turned-friends, and have resorted to occasional YM conversations with them, as well as promises to meet up for drinks that have yet to push through.

Do I miss the work? Sometimes. Do I miss the people? Of course.

It's been a month of working at home, and being introduced to a completely new world--the world of real estate. Is it something I'm seriously going to pursue? Maybe, maybe not. But at least for the moment, my reality is that I am working for my mother.

It is, quite frankly, a far cry from what I'm used to doing.

I barely leave the house now (But I do try to get in some sun when I can! I promise!), and I've only been on the highway maybe twice or thrice in the past month. Sometimes, I convince myself I'm getting dumber, like when I referred to the beach as the "BETCH", or the time I pretty much blanked out when I had to do long division.

But I've come to love how I can enjoy a delicious, home-cooked (and free) meal for lunch. Heck, I'm even home for dinner! I'm loving how there are family members around at all times of the day, and I've fallen in love with the fact that I can take a break from work so that I can take the time to play with my adorable niece or nephew who just happens to be visiting that day.

I may no longer be up to date with what's happening in the "real" world, but what's important is that I'm up to date with the people who do matter.

This setup may not be a permanent one, but for now, I'm perfectly happy with where I am. No, I'm (unfortunately) not pooping money, but I'm learning to be patient. It will come. Eventually.

So, that's what the past 31 days have been like. Let's see what happens next! :)

Archie Proposes.

I can't believe it.

Betty was extremely sweet and patient with Archie. She didn't care if he didn't spend any money on her, or if he went out with Ronnie using money he had saved on his cheapskate dates with Betty. She was perfectly happy just being with him. She was such a sweetheart! She spent all her life in love with this one guy... what's going to happen to her now?

On the other hand, Ronnie was... the exact opposite. Did she even really care about him? I don't think so. She never really gave him the time of day, did she? I was never a Veronica fan. Harrumph.

I guess the good guys don't always win.

Is there no justice in this world?! Darn it.

Three.

(warning. cheese ahead. read at your own risk.)

Once upon a time, I got a phone call from someone I kind of knew from school. We weren't really close friends--we had never talked to each other in person, and had only just recently started to chat on YM.

"You live on (insert name of street here), right? What color was your gate?"

"White...Why?"

"I'm outside."

That night, we sat on the grass in front of my house, and told each other stories like there was no tomorrow. The next few weeks after that were similar to the first time he came over.

We would tell each other story after story, joke after joke, secret after secret. Some nights, we spoke of frustrations and fears, while on other nights, we spoke of dreams and hopes. One night, we stared at a neighbor's house and tried to make shapes out of the plants growing by the wall.

Each night, I wished that the day wouldn't have to come to an end. Thankfully, there was always a tomorrow.

Three years later, here we are...still not running out of stories to tell.

Honestly speaking, I don't think we're ever going to run out of stories to tell. Since I'm a really forgetful person, he can just repeat his stories every now and then. Besides, he's nice enough to listen to my stories--even if I've already told them to him before. That is a fact. :P

So, I'm a billion and seven percent sure--there will be enough stories for tomorrow. And the tomorrows after tomorrow's tomorrows. Yay! :)

Monumental.

This is it, ladies and gents.

This is it.

Random Thought.

"Don't let the sun go down on your anger."

Boy: Why did you have to do that?! I hate you!

Girl: What do you care?! I wanted to! And excuse me, I hate you more!!!

Boy: Oh no! Hun! I'm sorry!

Girl: Huh?

Boy: I'm sorry! Let's stop fighting now!

Girl: What?! How come?!

Boy: The sun is setting already! We shouldn't fight anymore!

Girl: Okay! I'm sorry and I love you!

Boy: I love you more!

Lost and Found.

A few months ago (around November, I think), my dad asked me if I had his digital camera. I didn't have it.

A few days later, he looked for it again, and of course, I still didn't have it. He was not pleased.

You see, if that camera were to go missing, I would be the logical person to have it. My sister Pauline and I were the only ones to ever borrow that from my dad for various out of town trips, parties, etc.--but since Pauline was married and no longer living at home, who else would have it, right?

Moi, of course.

So I searched for it, over and over. When I was done looking through all the rooms, I would look through them all again. Weeks passed, and still no camera.

I remember on January 11, I was in the car with my parents on the way to my aunt's house, and my dad was already in a foul mood. At some point, of course, he brought up his camera. I still did not have it.

He. was. mad.

At that point, I was so tired of looking for it that I was almost certain that it wasn't me who misplaced it. Either way, I told him I would buy him another one, just so that he could drop the whole thing.

(No, I haven't bought it yet--but I've at least made an effort to scout for prices for it. Haha!)

After that "fight" of ours, he dropped it for a while. He'd ask the occasional "have you found my camera yet?" every now and then, but it was nothing I couldn't handle.

Anyway.

Yesterday, JV and I went to CPK in Alabang Town Center to grab a quick snack. We had just paid the bill and were getting ready to leave when the manager (well, at least we think she was the manager) came up to us.

"Ma'am, nakaiwan po ba kayo ng camera dito?"

It didn't really register what she was talking about, until JV asked,

"Canon? Ixus na silver?"

To make a long story short, we left the camera in CPK around September 2008. The manager (her name was Gi) remembered our faces from the photos in the camera, and she even mentioned that we were sitting in the exact same booth.

I think the whole experience would've been one that I would have been eternally grateful for, if the photos that were left in the camera were really decent, great shots of us.

Unfortunately, beggars can't be choosers.

Thinking Positively: An Attempt.

Last night, after telling a friend of mine about everything that's been getting me frustrated/depressed/stressed the past few days, all he could say was "when it rains, it pours."

Indeed, it's pouring. I feel like new buckets of rain are overhead, and the first batch of buckets are simply on their way back to refill. Words like "I don't like it, sorry." are still ringing in my ear, and dragging me down every time I think about it.

But I'm determined to think positively. At this point, I need to be positive. Things have to go well... at least until Tuesday night.

Once upon a time, the Backstreet Boys told us that there's "sunshine after the rain". So, if last week is any indication of how "rainy" it can get... well, then, this week is going to be a super duper sunny one. In fact, I think I'll get my sunblock ready.

Low.

My cellphone is low on memory.

I can barely make a call or send a text message without an error popping up, basically telling me that my phone is going to completely crash any day now. The way around it (at least for the moment) is to keep deleting messages and photos until it will let me make my call or send my message. Deleting two or three photos and a couple of messages so I can reply to one text? Yeah, that sounds about right. The smart thing to do would be to back up my contacts and messages... but I don't really have the time right now.

There's no more space on my laptop.

There are days where I only have a couple MB left, and it's gotten to the point that I can't even view photos at times. I find myself emptying my trash can every few minutes, just to make room for a new file. Yes, I bought an external hard drive sometime back, but I can't seem to find anything on my laptop that I can do without for now. Even if I found files I could afford to part with for the moment... anyway, I don't have the time to delete them at the moment.

What's even more unfortunate is that I'm feeling low.

My spirit is low. My drive to do pretty much anything has disappeared, basically because I feel like one big disappointment.

In the end, all the hard work I (we) put in isn't worth crap. I feel unappreciated on so many levels, it's embarrassing to admit it. I feel like a disappointment to you (points finger at you),you, you, you... all of you.

What I absolutely hate though, is that I actually thought I was doing a pretty f*ckingtastic job considering the circumstances. I thought all of you thought that, too.

Apparently, I was wrong.

One week: that's all it took for everything to fall apart.

On Being A Superhero.

It's tiring being Superwoman.

It means not complaining (or at least doing your best not to).

It means being a good example to others.

It means appearing as upbeat and positive about life as possible, even when things are not going the way you want them to.

It means giving up "me" time, for "all of you" time.

A(nother) Blog Post for You.

It was recently brought to my attention that a long, long, long time ago, I wrote a blog post for my best friend to apologize to her. We were going through a rough patch that time... for topics that aren't even worth remembering.

Since we were in grade school, we've had a LOT of falling outs. Thankfully, we always found our way back in.

After what I think is my favorite conversation with her ever, here I am. Here I am letting her know that I love her, and that she's a GREAT friend. Here I am, letting her know that she's the BEST, and that's there's absolutely no one else like her, or who will ever replace her "role" in my life.

For hours, we talked. And wept. And wept. And wept.

And we're better than ever.

More than 25.

Once upon a time, I succumbed to the pressure of those Facebook thingies, and listed down 25 things about myself (although I actually wrote 27 facts, not 25). However, those were more of "fun facts" about myself. None of those facts really explain why I am the way I am.

Since then, I've realized that there are REAL things about myself that I want to put down into writing, and share to... not exactly my whole Facebook contact list. I've learned that there's more to me than liking odd numbers, collecting jackets, and being afraid of cockroaches.

I'm 25 years old, and these are some of the things I've learned about myself, whether I like it or not:

28. As loud and hyper as I am, I am actually pretty introverted. Is there such a thing as an extroverted introvert? I love meeting new people, but in the "getting to know you" phase, I am actually quite shy. If you don't know me, I can seem mataray or just plain old quiet, but if you really know me... you'll know that that's not quite the case.

29. Unlike people who adore being the center of attention, speaking in front of an audience scares the hell out of me! Yes, I like to make winning hirits, but I can only pull this off when I am completely comfortable with the crowd that I'm in (and the only reason I can pull this off is because that's the only thing I'm good for...making hirit!). Make me present something in front of a crowd, and watch me go pale.

30. I have no problem making a complete fool of myself if it makes people laugh. A lot of my friends probably think that I'm downright strange sometimes, but hey, what's making a little fun of yourself?

31. I can't write, and am actually afraid to write. Sure, I've written a few articles here and there. Yes, I want to write... but I don't know how. I have serious doubts about my sentence construction, and have even serious-er doubts about my ability to write something interesting that's longer than 50 words!

32. I hold grudges / have a hard time forgetting certain things, like when a certain person didn't thank me after I did ________ for them. I have an unpublished blog post called "Give Thanks" that was directed towards someone... but the saner part of me was against posting it. Oh, how I still want to post it to this very day.

33. I'm too loyal to certain causes. The smallest comments against something / someone I love will affect me deeply. Even if it's a comment directed towards Golf Digest Phils.! Haha!

34. Most of the time, I have a really, really short memory. It's like when you'd study for a test in college and once the test is over, the information you memorized goes with it. I actually didn't realize it until JV brought up how extremely forgetful I was :P

35. I don't really remember what life was like before JV. I don't really care, for that matter. That's a good thing :)

36. I hate it when people can't read my mind or don't know when I'm feeling annoyed or frustrated or hurt. Yes, I know it's a lot to ask.

37. I looooove to make hirit and make fun of people (whether to their face or behind their backs), but I'm actually pretty pikon if you strike the wrong nerves. Tsk tsk. Watch out.

38. Since my sisters have moved out of the house, I have had a hard time sleeping. I never used to mind being alone in the dark. However, since they've both moved, each night requires putting the TV on sleep mode after about an hour or two, or leaving a light on in my room. My mom will get mad at me the next morning for the leaving the light on, but the next night, I'll do it again anyway.

39. I have a superhero complex. When people expect something from me, I need to deliver, no matter how hard I have to work to do it. I have a hard time telling someone I can't do something, no matter how impossible it may seem. I will slave over it if I have to. I must meet expectations of me. I must.

...but please remember #32. Thank me, okay?

To Angel.

I see you walking around sometimes. Of course, I know it's not you, but people who resemble you. The other day, I was crossing the street, and walked by someone who looked so much like you that I almost called out your name.

Every time I see "you", I feel the regret all over again. It is the regret of not having been able to know you better. It is the regret of not having been able to spend more time with you when you were here.

I don't know why it still bothers me. We were never close. We were never really friends. We hung out a few times, but not enough for us to say we knew each other. So why am I so affected?

I wish I could have known you as well as the others were able to. I wish you knew how much I wished things were different. You seemed like such a nice person--so sincere, so simple. To this very day, I am filled with regret.

But there's nothing for me to do now. I just wanted you to know.

Hiding.

She paints her face to hide her face. Her eyes are deep water. It is not for Geisha to want. It is not for geisha to feel. Geisha is an artist of the floating world. She dances, she sings. She entertains you, whatever you want. The rest is shadows, the rest is secret.

- Sayuri Nitta, Memoirs of a Geisha