Saturday, December 17, 2011

Sadness. Self pity. Dancing along the line between the two.

It is the season, they say. Everyone is cheery, wondering why Christmas couldn't come sooner. I have a lot of things I'm looking forward to, but somewhere inside the pit of my stomach, something screams that things just aren't going right these days. I can't explain it. I just feel it.

Whatever I do, I feel like I'm surrounded by gray clouds, waiting to rain on my parade. I'd like to think that tonight is just being one of those nights. After all, I was perfectly okay earlier today. I wasn't great or ecstatic or anything, but I was alright. Tonight, my mind wandered where I've long forbidden it to travel - the past, which hit me in the face with cheesy montage video worthy memories, fully equipped with inexplicable nostalgia and a power strong enough to make me rethink my decisions, take a second look at all the blocks I've built for so long, thinking all this time that they've been keeping me safe, at arms' length, at least, from being crushed by the tornado of  sepia colored photos of the faces I once couldn't look at without feeling at home. It only took one trip down memory lane, and suddenly, the earth beneath my feet was no longer the soil I'd recognized even with my eyes closed.

One snap of a finger, and all the pain that I've been successfully blocking came surging through my veins, right under my skin...The kind of pain more real than anything I've ever felt before. The kind of pain that came with the realization that I've been living in my head for too long, and that nothing is going to permit me to be able to do that again anymore.

Saturday, December 10, 2011

Thee emotions, thee hundred words.


You hold me close until the music stops. When the lights go out, we each take a step, farther away from each other, as if we are not already worlds apart. I walk all the way home, wondering if you ever wonder how it feels like to be me, a safety net you fall back on every time you trip and fall. And then I realize, with everything you have gotten yourself into, you must know. The things you do to me are the exact same things she does to you. Best part? You do not seem to mind, too.


The contour of your face is etched in my mind. Every line has its own story of laughter to tell. Your lips curl into a smile, and suddenly, my world is on fire. I can close my eyes and still see, with clarity, the map of your veins tangled up in mine. I lay on my side, ignoring the glaring eyes of the emptiness you left behind. As long as I refuse to see it, it does not exist. Your warmth still lingers here, in this cold, miserable place that has become my home since you walked away.


Tell me, have you ever loved a boy with eyes like oceans? A boy who, when you press your face to his collar, smells of endless possibilities and outstretched horizons? He says my name delicately, each syllable sweet, as fragile as spun sugar. He looks at me as if he has never known a world before me, as if the idea alone might sound strange, unthinkable. We run in circles - endless, infinite circles, and time has as much value as a fine grain of sand - small and weightless and unnoticeable. The only thing that matters is this. This is ours.

Friday, December 9, 2011

November was white, December is becoming gray.

 Today, I woke up to find one of our pet rabbits dead.

I'm struggling to find the right words to say here, as if it would make this feeling go away. As if would soothe the pain. As if it would make me forget the fact that I could almost hear my heart shattering to pieces.

When I came out of my room, Yeyey was on the sofa in the living room, crying. This rabbit was our favorite. I went out to see what happened, and found his dead body lying limp on top of the cage. My first thought was this: where do rabbits go when they die? And then I ran to my room crying, because I didn't know.

I've only felt like this once before, when our pet dog that I grew up with died. Even that was not a big deal for me. He was old, and I didn't see him dead. This is different.

Everyday, at least five times, I grab a pair of scissors, go out, and cut grass from the fields to feed them when my sister has forgotten to give them food. I would always rub his back as gently as I could because I knew that rabbits have delicate spines. I did that yesterday, rubbed his back, then his stomach, and felt something unusually rough and hard, which turned out to be his fur near his feet. It was very dirty.

My sister and I took them out of their cages to wash their feet. My sister took the pink one, and I took the black streaked one, and soaked its feet one by one in the water. By the time we finished, the pink one looked like it took a bath, so I told my sister that she should wipe it dry immediately because it might die. Its body felt so heavy, but the black streaked one was ok. It even snuggled on my lap, but when I gave it food, it didn't eat. In fact, it wasn't eating much the whole day yesterday.

So I put it back in the cage and rubbed its back, just like the usual. My sister put the pink one back not long after. This morning, I heard my grandma asking why Yeyey was crying. "Are you crying because of the dead rabbit? What can we do, he's dead." Very comforting. But I closed my eyes and asked, why? I remember praying for them last night. I wondered how my sister felt, because the pink one was her favorite.

Imagine my surprise when I went out and saw that the pink one was alive. I just felt like I couldn't hold myself together any longer. Here was a proof that I couldn't care for another being without hurting it. What did I do wrong this time?

I feel like puking right now, but my stomach feels empty. My whole body feels hollow. People might say it's just a rabbit, but it's a rabbit I've come to love. I used to read to it. I made him listen to music. I was always the first to applaud when he would show off and stand on his hind legs. I adored him. He was a very important part of my life. Now that he's gone, I ache all over because I already miss him.

I used to think people who cried when animals died were hilarious. Now, I understand.

Rest in peace, nameless rabbit. You'll always be my favorite. I love you, and there's a longing in my arms about the same size as you are. I miss you. I will forever miss you.

Thursday, December 8, 2011


I'm feeling a lot of things all at once. One bad thing about being like this is the thinking that comes automatically during the nights, pulling me away from what could possibly be a deep, dreamless sleep. I don't know how to react to these things, so oftentimes, I just keep my thoughts to myself...but not today. Today, I stepped into the shower and wept.

I'm just excited that my mom is coming home next week, but lurking in the back of my mind are the questions I've been trying so hard to shove aside. What if the things I fear prove themselves to be true?

The last time my mom came home, a lot of drama has happened. It came to the point when I've decided that I was better off living without acknowledging the fact that I had a mother at all. I still remember how that afternoon, I got on a random bus and traveled for three hours without a specific destination; I just wanted a place to be alone, a lace where my pain was my own, a place where I could cry. That day, when I told her that she could start living like she didn't have any children, she begged me to give her another chance. That everything she was doing was for my sister and I.

Now, after roughly two years, she's bound home again. I really can't wait to see her,  but a part of me keeps telling me not to hope for too much cause I might be disappointed. Those things in the past might rise from the grave and haunt us all again, but I want this, too. It took me twenty years to realize that when it came down to it, I don't really have any idea what it feels like to have a mother.

I've spent time with her when I was young, that much I know. But sometimes, when you're 20 and your father has been dead for years and your mother is not under the same roof as you are, you just wonder what could have been. Most people would say it only happens in the movies, but the truth is, it only takes one quick look at a mother and father holding their kids' hands for me to feel jealous and self pity, because I don't remember ever having that. My mom never met my first boyfriend, the first boy to make me cry, and when she met one of my boyfriends, she didn't like him. Most girls would have hated that, but I'm only thankful that at least I have shared that part of my life with her.

You see, most of the time, when it comes to my mom, I feel like a beggar. I feel like I'm so lucky if I get even just an ounce of attention, a dash of love, a minute of her time. I know that she loves me, but I always end up questioning if that is ever enough for her to like me.

So now that she's coming home for 11 days, I guess I'm just hoping that we'll all make an effort to make things work. I'm wishing for some time alone for her and my sister and I, but I don't mind having my uncle along because he's cool. I just want to have this. This little fragment of time with her, so that if this is the last time that we spend together, we spend it happy together. No arguments, no shouting matches, no disappointments. Just some family time to hold on to. To last me for the rest of my life.

Thursday, December 1, 2011

December dreaming.

Someone needs to stop me from watching too many romantic movies.

I keep sitting here thinking someday will come when a man would jump to his feet and chase after me if I decide to run from him on our wedding day.

No... Really, what I keep daydreaming about is that my married life is going to be perfect. That I'm going to come home to a nice little house with cupboards the color of sunshine, with a living room overlooking a small garden with dim lihts, classical music playing in the background.

I'm so lonely. I know the right person will come for me, but when is that going to happen? I have so much love to give, and it feels like there's just no one to receive it. Okayyyy, I know I MAYBE too picky.......but I can't help it that I'm also intimidating. I mean, am I supposed to be like, hey guys, don't be intimidated, I don't mean to intimidate you blah blah? Siiiiiiiigh.

I'm starting to type like an illiterate person so I'll stop. I want a boyfriend! It's almost Christmas and I don't have one. :(

Sunday, November 20, 2011

The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn (Part 1)

I saw Breaking Dawn with my friends last Friday. It was awesome, but I could really use some more Jasper/Alice action. Still, it was better than I expected.

Two scenes I can't forget are when the wolves chased Esme. She looked scared. And when they attacked the Cullens, when Alice looked fragile and helpless under one big angry wolf. I was shaking at the cinema, squealing "Don't hurt Alice, don't hurt Alice!" Haha.

Like I said, it was greater than I ever expected because really, I haven't watched any trailers. I wanted it to surprise me, and it did, except for when Bella was being changed and they showed the venom running through her veins. They could've found a better way of explaining that without having to be visual like that. I guess I'm just not used to seeing that in a Twilight movie, since up until Eclipse they kept the scenes as realistic (with people and vampires and werewolves) as possible. There were no anatomy shots and no talking werewolves. But I guess it was necessary for Breaking Dawn. I liked the wolves, though. They were angrier, wolfier. And Rosalie was so beautiful in this movie. I've been thinking that finally, for the first time, I was convinced that she was the movie version of Rosalie.

My favorite scene would be the Alice/Jasper dance of course. (Did you really expect me to choose a scene without Alice/Jasper in it? No? Thought so.) And although almost everyone says they disapprove of the Alice hair, I personally believe it looked good. Ashley Greene rocked that wig, just saying. Jackson Rathbone looked a lot more like himself, playing Jasper, and that was a good thing. I hope they keep that look for part 2.

All in all, good movie. It kept me on the edge of my seat. The book is now boring compared to this movie, but which stupid person would make that comparison? Oh, I just did? Haha. It was short, in my opinion, the movie. I'm looking forward for more next year, since it seems like the real story is there.

The verdict? I liked it. It's my second favorite Twilight movie. Second to Eclipse, of course. I love me some Jasper.

Thursday, November 17, 2011

A bunch of silly things I would like to say to you.

Hi, remember me?

I'm taking a trip down memory lane, and I came across some fond moments we've shared.

I think you've moved on now. I think you've moved on long ago, and I know I brought this on myself. But sometimes, I wish you were still here.

It has been four years, more or less, but I remember everything like it was yesterday. We've had the highest highs and miserable lows, but even until now, I've never found someone to make me feel the way you did.

What would you do if I told you that sometimes, I hold my own hand just to see if I still remember how it felt with you? I still see bits of our faces, of that day. It was drizzling lightly and you were swimming, and i was sitting by the pool, my feet dipped in the water, and it was cold. You kept trying to convince me to jump in, but I wouldn't, because the wind was blowing, and I was short, and the pool was deep. I was scared of drowning. I didn't know how to swim. You held out your hand, and I hesitated. No one has ever held my hand before, not even my first boyfriend. You didn't force me, though. So I took your hand and jumped in the water with you. I was right, it was cold. But back then, right at that very moment, nothing else really mattered except that I was with you, and I was happy.

 You took me out on my very first real date. We watched Shrek 3, and you said your palm ached, so I volunteered to give you a massage. As soon as I held your hand, you slipped your palm up against mine and slid your fingers in the spaces between mine. We held hands the whole time, and you never let me go, not even after the movie. You said it felt good to hold hands with me because my palm was smooth and soft. I said the same to you.

One day, one of your friends from high school saw us together and told this girl who had the biggest crush on you (and who was also my friend) that we were officially together. That night, she got mad at us for not telling her. We spent the evening trying to explain to her that it wasn't like that, that I wasn't your girlfriend. Secretly, I was wishing you'd say I was.

You took me to one of the most beautiful places I've ever seen. Even until today, after all these years, I haven't completely forgotten about it. For the first time, in that place, where it was all green, and there were grassy hills and a beautiful lake glistening under the sun, you put your arms around me. As if by doing so, you'd somehow be able to hold me together and prevent me from falling apart all over again. That day, on our way home, your motorcycle ran out of gas in the middle of nowhere, and we had to walk and push it to the nearest gas retail store, but I didn't mind. I went home, my friend came over and asked me about my day, and the only answer I was able to give her was a smile. And then I cried, because you were so perfect and I was wondering what I did to have gotten so lucky.

I didn't know exactly what was going on between us. We never put a label to what we had, but you told me you loved me...hundreds of times. And not once did it get old,because I felt the same for you. We've known each other better than anyone did. I casually mentioned that I liked guys who wore pink, and from then on, although you didn't say anything, I've noticed that every time we were together, you made it a point to wear pink. You even went as far as buying new shirts just to be able to do that for me.

We attended different colleges. You went to Manila, and we only saw each other twice a month. I'd stay up until the wee hours of the morning, texting you while you toughed out the long way home. I'd wake up and go to school really early on Mondays just to get the chance to be able to ride with you there. Once, we took a jeepney with my grandfather, but I pretended not to have seen him because no one in my family knew about you.

I went to Manila to see you. We spent three days together, and those hotels wouldn't let us check in because I was only 16. I was very sleepy, but we finally found one that let us in. That room had a window that overlooked the city. I stood by it to watch the passing cars and listen to the noise outside. You just silently walked up to me and you wrapped your arms around my waist from behind. That night, if you asked me to do it with you, I wouldn't have been able to say no, but because you were so different from all the other guys out there, you respected me, and instead made it memorable by giving me my first real kiss. All we had for dinner was a pack of blueberry flavored gum, but my stomach was full of butterflies.

On the second night, we weren't lucky enough to have an air conditioned room, but it was late, so we settled for one that was hot as hell. A fan hung from the ceiling, but it wasn't working. All night, you couldn't sleep because you were sweating nonstop. I pulled out one of the three handkerchiefs I gave you ("Handkerchiefs?" you said. "People give handkerchiefs to people when they plan to make them cry."). And I swore there would be no reason for you to cry for me. I soaked that handkerchief in tap water, then stayed up all night wiping it all over your body. I remember hoping you'd remember that everytime the weather got too hot.

The next day, you took me to the bus home. You sat on one of the steel benches of the bus station, while I sat by one of the window seats across you. I kept pretending to read Chinese Cinderella while the bus groaned idly so I wouldn't have to look at you. When we started to go, I finally had the courage to lift my gaze. You raised your hand in the air, and a silent tear fell from my eye. You could have been sending me a promise, but I knew you were saying goodbye.

Weeks after that, you had to come home because of a fever. I was so worried that I skipped my afternoon classes immediately after you asked me to come over. I was shy, I've never met any of your family, but you said it was okay. So, because I was clueless about these things, I just put on my old Physical Education jogging pants and my pink, large high school shirt that said FOOD TECHNOLOGY on the back and a pair of my trusty nude tone jelly shoes and rushed to your home, where your aunts and brothers and cousins were. You introduced me to them by name, but we both didn't know who I really was in your life, so we left it at that.

You held my hand, we made out in your bedroom, and then you drove me home in your car. You gave me a copy of High School Musical: The Novel, and I still have it until now. You were such a romantic, it was cute. You liked love songs that would have made other guys sick. I was so young, I thought it was never going to end. I was deeply in love with you, and there was no way out.

But things weren't meant to stay that way forever. We grew more apart by each day. We were so alike in so many ways, and I never thought that would be a bad thing, but it was. One day, you just stopped caring, and I was left with the pieces of my first real broken heart.

All these happened in a span of three months, and I still can't let go completely. I've seen movies showing people looking for the feeling I once felt with you. Carefree. Complete. Happy. I've been in and out of various relationships with various people, but it still feels like something is missing. When I think about it, it always comes back to you.

I miss you.

I keep wondering what might have been if I'd been more patient, more understanding, more confident. It saddens me that I'll never know.

Letting you go is one of the biggest regrets of my life.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

My mind is not the safest place for me.

Have you ever felt like  nothing in life is going right?

I wake up every single day knowing it's just going to be like the last. Most of it will be spent in my room or in front of the TV, and then some listening to my family complain about the littlest things.

We never have decent food. If we do, that's like once in a blue moon. It's almost always fried tofu,  fried fish, fried chicken, fried pork. Stir fried vegetables. I miss sipping hot soup from my spoon, and I miss eating something that took some effort to be cooked. I just miss being normal, I guess.

Every morning, I wake up to the annoying sound of my aunt's voice echoing through the house. It seems like they can't speak to each other without yelling even though they're not mad. I wish I was exaggerating this. I told her that yesterday, and in all fairness to her, she tried turning her voice down this morning, but it was still not low enough. Still woke me up.

I can't go anywhere I like without having to bring someone with me. I told them a few months ago that I'm going to Manila on the 18th, and nobody cared because I have no money and they don't plan to give me some. So, thinking that I wouldn't be able to go anyway, they shrug it off and make it look as if I'm allowed to go. Now that it's near and I have found a way to have money, they insist that my sister should go with me. My sister is going to Manila, too, on the 25th and they'll give her money for that, and they'll give her money to be able to join me, too.

I know she's my sister, and I should be happy, if at all, to be hanging out with her, but the people I'm meeting are my friends. People in the same age group as I am, whom my sister hasn't met and will not be able to relate to. What are they thinking, that I'm going to run away with some dude or what? Because I'm not that kind of girl. I don't even have a boyfriend, but of course they don't believe me when I tell them that.

I just feel like I'm being held a prisoner in my own home. I'm so unhappy with the flow of things here, and honestly, I can't find anything I want to live for right now. All I want is one day to be free, to be with my friends, to be me, because I can't be that here, and they can't give me that. They always keep my hopes up and crush them, and me, in the end.

I'm so tired of this. I'm so depressed in this house. I keep staying in my room and crying silently for reasons I can't explain and it's so hard to get through the day without thinking of ending all of this.

I feel like dying is the only way I can be free.

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Just sitting here pretending to be a baby carrot.

Happy November,fellow bloggers!

I've been waiting for this month for so long. Today has been a good day but I'm just sitting here pretending to be a baby carrot. Just kidding. It's November, which means about two weeks from now, it's Breaking Dawn Part 1 day! I can't wait for it, although I'm not so sure who I'm seeing it with and where.

I told my grandma that I want to go to Manila on the 18th but she doesn't seem to be so fond of the idea. I'm kind of desperate, since I saw Eclipse last year with my girlfriends and I want to see this film with them, but we'll see. In a span of a year, so much has changed in my life and it's so hard to get used to this new routine now. Last year I was traveling wherever I want, whenever I want to, and now I'm stuck at home, I'm twenty, and I have to ask either my mom or my grandma for money and for permission to go somewhere. And it doesn't help at all that my grandma is so overprotective that usually, it's a no, and if it's a yes, it's a conditional yes.

Anyways, I can't wait for my mom to come home this December. We have so many plans but I'm not sure if they're all going to happen. There are already some fat dark clouds showing themselves between us and those plans, but I hope it all comes out smoothly in the end. I'm just not going to get my hopes up so I don't end up being crushed.

Yesterday,we were at the mall. When we got home, my aunt told me that this neighbor of ours commented that our lives are so easy, "Ang sasarap ng mga buhay." It was a snide remark, a jealous one, because of some personal conflicts I'd rather not mention. I'm partly irritated that she's so shallow minded and jealous, and I find it funny that she thinks so much of my family. Whatever we do, she has a comment. One of these days, I'm just going to go up there and show her why she's so jealous, really. She's sure to get a handful of it from me if she doesn't stop.

So, on our way home, I was listening to my iPod. It was dark and lights were flashing by the road and there was a cold breeze, and suddenly, Taylor Swift's Enchanted just came on and I was like, how nice would it be to have someone to feel that way for right now? I miss being in love and being loved. Being adored, not so much. Not to boast, but I get a lot of adoration from strangers and it's just not nice. I don't like it when I pass by and a guy says, "There goes my girlfriend," or "I will court that girl," and never even have the balls to decently say hello. I therefore conclude that I don't like being indirectly hit on. I'm not going to settle for someone who thinks he can get me by whispering idiocy in the wind.

I don't think I can ask for more from life right now, but I just feel like something's not adding up to the equation. It feels wrong, and I can't put my finger on it. I don't know what's wrong, but something is.

Thursday, October 13, 2011

You'll find some peace tonight.

On Youtube are videos taken after the shooting incident at SM Pampanga. I just finished watching one, and frankly, I don't even know what to feel.

Last September 21, 2011, a 17 year old boy left his house, telling his parents that he was going to SM City Baliuag. Later that day, in the evening, news spread fast about a 13 year old boy shooting the 17 year old in SM Pampanga before shooting himself. A few days later, they were both pronounced dead.

Facebook evidences show that the two were involved in a relationship, and that the 17 year old was planning to go to Japan to be a hairdresser. From what I heard, there was jealousy and a third party involved, but that's not why I'm writing this.

You see, the incident has been all over the news. Tonight was the first time, though, that I've actually seen a civilian's video coverage of what happened after the shooting. There on the tiled floors of the mall were the two boys. One was laying still on his stomach, the other was twisting and turning in pain, using his foot to get someone's attention, possibly asking for help.

Around them were a bunch of policemen, security guards, and mall strollers, taking pictures and videos, walking around them, but no one dared to pay attention to the moving boy and get him to the hospital or perform a first aid rescue or get him to keep from moving so as not to aggravate his bleeding more. No one. Not one of them thought that there should be no broken bones, so there must be no harm in moving his body to a stretcher or what not to get him to a hospital as soon as possible. Instead, they stood there and chatted idly about what happened, while our dearly beloved security officers, who are supposed to give us just that - security - walked around the two boys very calmly.

Seeing the video made me want to vomit and cry. What if it happened to someone I know? Is that the kind of protection I should expect from everyone in this country? I know, if they moved him right at that moment, he could still have died. But you can't tell me that these people were doing their jobs, because they weren't. It wasn't a car accident. Someone shot someone else, and then himself. Removing either of them from the scene could have tampered the evidence, but it could have saved someone in return. HOW IS IT THAT SOP IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN AN ACTUAL HUMAN BEING'S LIFE, for God's sake?

I know that blaming people for this doesn't make the boys any less dead, but you know, something could have been done. It broke, and still breaks my heart seeing him suffer like he did. If someone's dying but struggling to live, you don't just stand there and not do anything just because it's what is written on some paper. You shouldn't care if the person is related to you or not, cause things like this could happen to anyone, to someone you know. When someone's life is on the line, you don't just wait for the higher ranked people to tell you what to do. You do whatever it takes to save that life, like you'd want others to do when what's at stake is the life of someone you love.

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Customizing / Creating Themes for iPhone / iPod Touch.

Okay, so I just spent the last two days tinkering with my phone and doing some research on how I can customize and create my own themes, and tonight, I'm gonna share with you guys all I've learned so far.

First of all, I have an iPhone 3G, running on version 4.0.1, jailbroken. If you want to be able to do what I'll list below, you need to have your device jailbroken, or else it won't work. I'm not really sure if this will work on iPhone 3GS or iPhone 4, but you can try!
You can take your device to a technician to have it jailbroken (recommended!) or jailbreak it yourself. You can search the internet for the software you need to do it.

So, once your device is jailbroken, you'll have this app called Cydia. It's like the app store, but most of the stuff there is free, I think. So you'll need wifi or internet connection on your phone. Once you're done, follow these steps.

1. Click on Cydia.

2. On the search bar, type WinterBoard.

3. Install WinterBoard. It will automatically reboot your device after the installation.

Once you have WinterBoard, you're now free to download free themes, or better yet, create your own!

Downloading free pre-made themes: (WiFi is still needed here)

1. Open Cydia.
2. Click Sections.

3. Select Themes (Springboard).
4. Browse and select the theme you want, then click Install on the upper right corner, and then confirm.
5. Wait for the theme to finish downloading, then you can leave Cydia. Or you can download more themes!

Setting your theme. Or, as I like to call it, the fun part!

1. Open WinterBoard. It should be found on your screen with all the other apps, or you can go to Settings. It's right below the list of settings you can change on your phone.

 2. Turn Summerboard mode on.

3.Click Select Themes.

4. On the list, select the theme you want to use. If you check two themes at once, the one on the higher tab gets used. or example, on the picture below, the theme Ashley Greene gets used because it is placed higher than Hello Kitty. To rearrange your themes, drag them up and down by holding the gray lines on their right.

5. After selecting your theme of choice, click Winterboard on the upper left corner.

6. Click Respring. It's also on the upper left corner.

7. Your phone will go back to the locked screen or a black screen with the "loading" icon on it. That's normal. Wait for it to end, then voila! You now have your theme installed.

Creating your own iPhone theme:

For this, you'll need an iPhone browser. I downloaded mine for free here.

Once you have it installed on your computer, follow these steps:

1. Connect your device to your computer.
2. Open the iPhone browser.

3. Once opened, the iPhone browser should indicate that your device is connected and jailbroken.

4. Click Go to location and WinterBoard themes. It should load the location of the themes on your device.

5. Minimize the browser and go to desktop. Create a new folder, then name it whatever you want to name your theme.

6. Inside that folder, create two new folders. Name them Bundles and Icons. Then, pick 3 images of your choice. They should be 320 x 480 in size. Put them inside the theme folder, with Bundles and Icons.

IMPORTANT: All images should be in PNG format and everything should be named accordingly, or the theme won't work.

If the steps above were followed correctly, your folder should now look like this.

LockBackground is the image in the lock screen when your device is locked. You can decide not to have one, it's your choice.

SMSBackground is the image you see in the background when you read text messages. You can decide not to have one, it's your choice.

Wallpaper is the image you see on your home screen. You can decide not to have one, it's your choice.

7.The Bundles folder is optional. If you decide not to change the items included here, you can just skip off this step and not create a Bundles folder.

Inside the bundles folder, create two folders. 8Name them and

8. Open and paste two images of text balloons of your choice, any size. Again, this is optional, so you can skip it off. They must be in PNG format. Name them Balloon_1 and Balloon_2.

 9. Leave and open Here, you can customize the image on your slide bar when unlocking your phone. This, too, is optional. So you can just skip it off if you want to leave the slide bar image as it is. Put in this folder the image you want to replace the arrow on your slide bar. It must be on PNG format, 60x60 in size, and name it bottombarknobgray.

10. Now that you're done with the items i the Bundles folder, you can leave it and open the Icons folder.

11. For the Icons, you'll need 22pieces of 60x60 images or icons in PNG format. You can also just choose the icons you want to change if you don't feel like setting up that many. Icons are available here for free or you can use your own images. Anything you want, really, as long as they're PNG and 60x60.

Here is the list of all the icons you can change, and what the images should be named.

Apple App Store - App Store
Calculator - Calculator
Calendar - Calendar
Camera - Camera
Clock - Clock
Contacts - Contacts
Cydia - Cydia
Installous - Installous
Mail - Mail
Maps - Maps
Messages - Messages
Notes - Notes
Phone - Phone
Photos - Photos
Safari - Safari
Settings - Settings
Stocks - Stocks
Weather - Weather
WinterBoard - WinterBoard
YouTube - YouTube
iPod - iPod
iTunes - iTunes

 So basically, you don't have to change the names except for the App Store. Take not of the capitalization, I'm not sure if it will work with incorrect caps.  Anyway, here's what the Icons folder should look like once you're done pasting your images.

As you can see, I didn't put in all the icons I've mentioned above cause I'm just giving an example, haha. But you can just choose what you want to change too, that's the good thing about it. You can have your theme any way you want to.

12. We're done with all the stuff that need customizing, so now you ca minimize all folders and go to desktop, open the iphone browser, and drag your theme folder to the "Themes" section of your iPhone.

Note that the "Theme" on the left is clicked blue, so I could be sure that I'm dragging the theme into the correct folder. After your theme's name appears under the "Themes" in the browser, click on it. This is what it should look like.

All the files should have a ".png" extension. When you've got this all right, you can disconnect your device from the computer and go to WinterBoard to change your theme. You can reboot first if you want, to make sure that all changes have been made.

Yay! You just made your own theme, isn't that incredible?! i know it's a lot of work, but once you get the hang, it gets easier! Patience is the key. After all, the reward that's waiting for you is something not everyone can do or have! So good luck, and feel free to ask me questions if there are any. Or comments and suggestions, right there on the comments section! Happy theme making!

Friday, October 7, 2011

Because, when these things happen, we suffer terribly.

Hiya, fellow dreamers.

I'm currently reading The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho and I'm almost done. I'm on the part where the alchemist tells the boy to listen to what his heart says. It's a very profound book and reminded me how much I love Paulo Coelho's writing style.

Today has been pretty good. I made macaroni spaghetti from scrap and some gulaman and milk snack. One of the things I like about myself is my ability to make something edible out of the available ingredients at home. This time, I only used some left over tomato sauce, a pinch of pepper, salt, mono sodium glutamate and sugar for the spaghetti sauce, and then topped it all with hard boiled eggs. I don't know why eggs make everything taste better.

Yeyey has the colds and coughs. My sister put some Vicks vapor rubs on a glass of hot water and made her sniff it with rolled paper but she didn't want to. The menthol hurt her eyes. My grandfather is also incredibly sick. The doctor said it was over fatigue, but they did a lot of tests and prohibited him from smoking and drinking, cause he now has a weak kidney. It scared me. Still scares me, cause it is very unusual for my grandfather to be sick. I'm used to seeing him as the headstrong, stubborn man who annoys me to death, but now I feel sorry for all the times I pretended he wasn't around when he was. Some kind of granddaughter I was.

I'm also listening to Bloc Party. It makes me feel a bit sad. Most of their songs are happy, though, but I'm currently listening to the album A Weekend In The City and the songs in it have some melancholic beats and melodies.

I'm longing to just be lying on a grass field, watching the stars. It doesn't even matter to me if I'd have someone to do that with or not. I just want to do that. Maybe it's just this new perfume I've got that smells like New York city. No, I don't know what New York smells like, but this scent reminds me of a fast paced life, with buses and cars honking at each other and people bustling, rubbing elbows, exchanging snide remarks. You might think, what does New York city have to do with grass fields and stargazing? And I understand, because if I wanted it to be more romantic, I'd choose a suburb in France, or maybe some place in New Zealand, but if I listen to my heart right now, it says New York city. Maybe my heart is thinking I could walk to Central Park and go stargazing there. I don't really know how I'd do it. I just want to do it.

So I'm gonna end this post now and dream some more of NYC. Of the things that might have been different if only one thing didn't lead to the other. Of office secretaries, scrambling to buy their bosses' Starbucks coffee. Of snow. Of red trees.

Of Serendipity.

Thursday, October 6, 2011

It should be illegal to think afterhours.

I wonder why people hurt each other all the time.

There's been nothing on my mind all day but their voices - those people who once or twice or more, tried to bring me down. Like ringing bells, their words echo through my head. You've gained weight. Eat less. Someone must have left you in the kitchen. What did the fat girl say? She's not pretty at all.

These things were said about me back in sophomore high school. I can't believe how cruel everyone are willing to be just to elevate themselves higher than everyone else. Still, I'm feeling really down tonight.

What I want to do right now is to write a poem about coming home after a day like this. I want to be able to put in words how happy, and at the same time, sad, it made me when I picked my robe up and hung it up the back of my door. I want to tell someone how nothing makes me feel better than my warm blanket, a sure source of comfort when everything else fails. Why, in spite of the fact that nothing good comes off it, do we insist on pulling each other down, instead of helping one another up, until we're all leveled enough to look up and see the skies?

This real world, it makes me sad. At times like this, this is where I go: to a world of my creation where families are perfect and guys aren't jerks. Its walls are made up of road trips with friends, and I lie in a bed of laughter with my sister. My world is roofed by motherly hugs and fatherly advice. This world, unlike others, only crumbles when I strike over a phrase or give in to writer's block.

When I write, suddenly, I'm who everyone wants me to be, all at the same time. Praises are easier to give than judgment and criticism. Hugs are as natural as breathing. It's ironic how I write when I am feeling empty, when the truth is that I am filled with emotions my human body cannot translate into actions, just words. It's amazing how I pour everything out and feel fuller than I've been before I started.

It's my only escape from all of this. It's something I hold on to, something certain, when I don't know who or what my enemies are.

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Team chill the fuck out and let the girl have the jacket.

It has only been a few weeks since I finished reading Nick and Norah's Infinite Playlist after seeing it featured on my favorite teen magazine's website. Needless to say, I fell in love with the book, so I decided to see the movie.

It would be nice to go out and enjoy your teenage years not worrying about whether your parents are staying up waiting for you on the doorstep, and the only problem you'd have to deal with is the fact that your bitch of a best friend, whom you love dearly and always look for, is drunk again, and you are both in dire need of a ride home.

Now, enter the cute band member you've been checking out the whole night, and a crazy classmate who just won't get off your back and keeps rubbing it in your face that you don't have a boyfriend, and it should be even more fun.

This movie has something in it that I can't quite put my finger on. Maybe it's my love for New York city, or that I'm undeniably a sucker for young love, and even those aren't enough to stop me from noticing the empty pauses; those moments when the actor seem to have nothing to say to each other despite the memorized scripts and given lines. Then again, it is a little clear in the book that our main characters are suffering from low self esteems, deliberately caused by their heartless exes who both showed up at the same place in one night. Still, I loved it.

Apart from the fact (it's given) that Norah is beautiful and Nick has a cute smile, I also can't help but love the other characters. There's Caroline, who's drunk for like 4/5 of the movie. Nick's friends are awesome. Tris is a bitch and Tal is an ass, but like I always say, exes are generally annoying. Some scenes made me laugh because of the bad jokes, and some scenes (specifically, the phone booth / restaurant one) made me wish I had someone to watch this movie with.

It also has a great soundtrack. I'm not even kidding when I say that. The opening credits rolled, and immediately, I'm hooked. I would have watched it solely for the music, it is that musically inclined, but the movie is interesting too. They gave it a different spin from the book, so that you don't really know what to expect even if you've read it.

All in all, I'll give it a 4 out of 5.

Tuesday, October 4, 2011

It's hard to type with freshly applied nail polish on my fingers.

Blog post titles are awkward.

Hello! It's been a while. Two storms have passed my town and left my province under a state of calamity due to flooding, but thankfully my family and I are ok, except for that one time when flood water from our neighbor's yard actually got in our bathroom because of the sink hole (or whatever you call that hole where water is supposed to drain out).

So, apart from that and the numerous circumstances of power interruptions, things have been great around here. Can't believe the power of prayers. I used to think it was cheesy when people said that, but last Sunday, our Pastor told us a story of him asking God for even just a little radio so he could listen to music. This was way back when he was just starting to preach and they hardly had money. So he asked God for a little radio, and that very same day at dusk, his brother who worked for Coca Cola (don't know why it was mentioned that he worked for Coca Cola. Irrelevant.) came home with some friends carrying a box. So our Pastor asked what was inside the box, and his brother said it was a karaoke set. For those who just have no idea what a karaoke set is, Google it. Or better yet, let me tell you. It's a huge radio with a cassette player/recorder. In short, he was given more than he asked for.

I kinda thought that would be col if that would happen to me. So Sunday night, before I went to sleep, I said my usual prayer and then asked God to please, please, please help me be able to go watch Breaking Dawn with my friends on November 18th. I'm so petty, I know, but I didn't know where I'd get the money cause I'm jobless. Yesterday, my aunt came home and said that my mom sent us money. I thought it was Php 3,000 each, cause there was Php 6,000, so I was hysterical. I'd be able to go out for lunch with a friend this week and save the remaining for November. But my mom texted me in the evening and said I could only have Php 1,500 and Php 4,500 was for my sister t buy some new shoes. I was disappointed, but at least I could still go to lunch with my friend. After all, so much could happen in one month. So last night I prayed again to be ale to go to Breaking Dawn with my friends, and no one knew about this. This afternoon, my aunt told me that since my sister still has lots of money, she'd talk to her and ask her to give me Php 3,000! Yay! But my sister isn't home yet, so fingers crossed.

This morning, I was home alone and starving. i found some raw chicken in the pantry and started cutting it and frying it, then realized that I was so thirsty. I rummaged around my sister's room for some coins, like 3 pesos to buy ice, but I found none. then in my mind, I was like, God, please let there be stray money in my room. Then I went to my room, pulled out a Hello Kitty pouch, which, i expected to be empty, but to my surprise there was a 10 peso coin inside it. I was able tobuy myself a small bottle of 7Up.

Don't get me wrong. Jeez, I know I sound like such a Christian girl right now, but I make mistakes and stuff like that. everyone does. I'm just amazed, that's all. It's like magic. Maybe it was all just a coincidence, I don't know, but I do know that i prayed, accepted that the answer might be yes or no, and got yes, mostly. It's not like I'm saying everything I pray for will be given to me. Nope, I'm too human to think that way and I still have some wishes saved up inside me that haven't come true yet, and probably never will. I'm just saying  it feels so good to have something to believe in. To sleep in my own house while two nasty storms rattled our roof and the trees, without any power supply, and have that faith that in the morning, this house would still be intact, and bless us, it was. It feels so good to face the world and know that people may hurt you physically, emotionally, but not spiritually. I like the certainty that I might die any minute now, that it might be brutal, and my body might not even be suitable for identification, but my soul would remain unharmed. I'm fearless.

Sunday, September 25, 2011

I Think I'm Growing Up.

There are days when I crave for songs the way a pregnant woman craves for a specific kind of food. Last night, I lay in bed tossing and turning cause I wanted to listen to Jose Mari Chan's Beautiful Girl. Unfortunately, I don't have it on my iPod.

Life is the unsteadiest thing in the world. Like they say, the only thing constant here is change, but somethings, these changes are so drastic, we don't even have much time to catch our breaths and estimate the damage. loss, or gain.

It's been a happy week for me. I got to talk to my mom on the phone, and it was like nothing went wrong. We had our Pastor and church mates over this afternoon and held a mass in our house, and then my sister and Yeyey and I went out to buy some snacks outside. On Friday, it's St. Jerome's feast day, so there are a lot of booths and stalls set up along the highway, selling sweets, fruits, snacks, clothes and toys. I used to be so excited for September 30 when I was little.

The only thing I worry about right now is that everyday, I keep hoping our family is able to hold it together for the day. Sometimes, we just get into these little arguments and they annoy me. It seems like my aunt can't speak a word without actually sneering or yelling at us. My sister likes spending time in her room and complaining about things, whining to my aunt, and my aunt always sneers and tells my sister not to talk to her like that. you know, I just think we can all try to be a little nicer to each other. But I pretend that I don't care cause I'm scared that this family might just burst at the seams out of the blue, and things will never be the same again. Although this set up isn't perfect, it's not so bad.

I want to do something productive. Something charitable, even, but I don't know where to begin. first of all I don't have any money. Second, it's not like I live in the city where everything is walking distance. I wish I'm good enough to deserve the things I'm being given everyday that I always take for granted, like good health, food, a family, and then some luxuries not everyone can afford, like the internet and stuff like that. I wish to be good, period.

I think I'm finally growing up. Forgiveness doesn't come hard for me now, and I'm growing to be more of a thinker and less of a talker. I think, I'm growing up.

I'm growing up... I think.

Wednesday, September 21, 2011

Be Kind

I'm bound to cut a friendship short today. I don't know if I can even say that, since it never realy felt like I had that particular person for a friend, but still.

I'm not one to pretend that I like someone when I don't, but I'm decent enough to be civil with them. I don't get why people find it so hard to do that. Why do we always feel like we need to put other people down before we can start feeling good about ourselves?

I'm talking about bullying and being judgmental. A book I've read recently, Nineteen Minutes by Jodi Picoult tells a story about a teenage guy, Peter Houghton, who went on a shooting spree in his high school, killing ten people and leaving 19 others wounded. Peter was a victim of a lifelong, day to day bullying.

I think everything we do leads to another circumstance.That's why we have the words destiny and fate in the dictionary.Think of what would happen if someone set a building on fire. It would affect the lives of the people who own the building, the people who work there, the people who passed by it, the people who would see it on the news, and the person who lit the match, thus affecting every single person around all of them, even indirectly. That's what bullying does, too, except there's no fire, only a crushed self esteem. There'll be no one shouting for help, only a victim's supressed feelings. There are no charred walls and collapsed ceilings, only a broken heart.

I don't want to sound all saintly and good, because I'm not. Sometimes, I have those moments, too, when I'm being mean and can't help but notice someone else's imperfections, but when that time arrives, I just remind myself that calling someone fat won't make me thin, and calling someone ugly doesn't make me beautiful. It certainly doesn't make me feel beautiful.

It makes my heart hurt when I witness someone giving dirty looks to a couple because they're both girls. It makes my skin flame with irritation when people make fun of someone who's gay. We don't even know how his father might be hurting him in the confines of his own home for his sexual preferences. That classmate you call geek, that someone "totally uncool", that "friendless loser", that "fat bitch", that "ugly duckling"? They all have their stories to share. Stories that might change your life, if only you will listen. Bullying is no laughing matter.

One quote I've read somewhere says, "Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle." I don't know if those were the exact words, but no quote could have said it any better. If we only stop for a while, before we say anything hurtful, and reflect on that phrase, I think the world is going to be a beautiful place, the way it was meant to be. I hope we can all just try to put ourselves in someone else's shoes and instead of pointing out a person's flaw or imperfection, smile and focus on the many beautiful things about them. We all need someone, anyone to make us feel accepted for all the things we are and all the things we aren't. Be that person for someone else. We can save lives.

Thursday, September 15, 2011


I used to like this song
it reminded me of you
of the parentheses in the corners of your mouth
when you smiled
when you
made me want to jump
overwhelmed by your presence
from the ledge of tall towers
tall buildings
tall trees
deep pools

your eyes, your half moon eyes
used to look at me as if I was
the answer to a complicated question
you've been asking yourself for years
but then
I wasn't
I never was
and you didn't take long to figure that out

I used to like this song
you made a prettier version of
because I might not like it
but I did
I liked everything about you

and as randomly as you came
just like a hurricane
after hundreds of days
of longing and wondering
it played
when my iPod was on shuffle.

Tuesday, September 6, 2011

Enter the Exit Music...

One thing I've learned from attending a funeral today is that it doesn't matter what your relation to a person is; it doesn't matter what your opinions of them are; it doesn't even matter how you feel about them. When they die, all it takes is a flash of melancholy music triggered memories, and you'll cry.

When I was little, my mom and dad would fight, and my mom and I would go to her house in Talavera to cool down. I was so small, I used to clutch to a rag doll for dear life, and people scared me. There was this one particularly big man there. He always had a knife in his hand, and always, they'd mess with me, saying I was brought there to be slaughtered. I always cried.

She used to clean my ears and invite me over for lunch when we became neighbors. She once disdainfully said I was growing up being rebellious, and that I was hard headed. It was true, but it hurt me nonetheless. Ever since then, I decided not to like her anymore.

She was my grandmother's sister. Through the years they'd grown apart, pulled away from each other by jealousy, envy, and false accusations. She once hired someone to kill my grandmother. As soon as I heard of this, I told myself I'd never forgive her.

Today, I joined the procession of people who laid her to rest. People who didn't bother wearing white or black, and stuck to floral prints and red shirts. People who never cared what kind of person she was, what she was willing to do in exchange for a happier life. They'd whispered in the past, once or twice, about her personal life, the things she must have been regretting. They think studying what floats on the surface is enough to say you know a person well, but they're all wrong.

She wasn't a saint. The last time I saw her, she was all skin and bones, and I was scared. Still, I touched her hand to my forehead, a sign of respect for the elderly in my country. Cancer had eaten away at her physique and left us with an unrecognizable person, not speaking, not moving, not able to fend for herself. She had her fair share of mistakes and wrongful doings, and most of them have been aimed at my family, but today, watching her children grieve her departure, it was a struggle to blink back the tears.

I've learned, as I stood there feigning indifference, that I never hated her. My heart has been coated with dislike, but I've realized that in spite of all of those things I resented, she's a mother. Her children are hurting because she had provided them with the love they needed and deserved.

When I see her in my mind, she's still that healthy, cigarette smoking woman I've been so used to seeing. It's been a hard battle for her, but it has ended now, and much to my relief, she'll find peace.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Every once in a while, I get into these random bouts of depression and sit down with myself, thinking about what's going on in my life.

Today, my aunt told me that my other aunt in Manila is working for Globe Communications, selling SIM cards. Globe is one of the most well known telecommunications company in the country. And then this other aunt of mine said, "That's good. When she's settled, maybe she can help you get a job there."

I know I should be working now. At 20, I'm jobless and I spend every single day inside the house, talking to the same people, watching the same TV programs. Every. Single. Day. I'm miserable at best, and there's nothing I want more at this moment than to have a job so I can at least earn my own money and stop being a burden at home, but there's a catch, I don't want to stay in Manila and live with my aunt's family. They're nice, especially my cousins, but I don't want to feel like a visitor all the time. If I'm to work anywhere, I want to live on my own and hold my time in my hands.

Honestly, I have no idea where my life's headed right now. It's really almost shocking how one single mistake changes one's life forever. I wish I'd studied harder. If I had, maybe I'll be in the US right now with my friends, or in Singapore...Somewhere, anywhere...Moving, working, living. Not stuck in this small town,waiting for my fortune to play out.

Regret, as they say, is a bitter pill to swallow, but I'm sucking it up cause I know it's all my fault. All I need right now is one more chance to push myself to the limits, stand on the edge, feel the wind in my face, and tell myself that finally, I'm free again.

Monday, August 29, 2011


I've been single for so long now, and I don't think that's going to change anytime soon. Being like a prisoner in my own house, there's just no way I'm going to meet someone who'd sweep me off my feet.

Instead, I spend all the time I have watching movies and making black out poetry. I never liked blackout poetry, only because the idea of dashing through someone's work to mold the words into your own preference makes me cringe. But I must admit, it's kinda fun.

Most of the time, just like everyone else, I wish those things in the movies would happen to me. It's so easy to lay on your back, nursing a tub of melting ice cream, wishing you'd happen to be in New York, buying a pair of gloves. It's almost impossible to scribble your name and contact information on a book cover and wait for that other person to somehow find it. If I wasn't such a hopeless romantic, I'd even call it stupidity.

The problem is that I myself believe in fate, and more often than not, I rely too much on it. I tend to forget how subjective destiny can be. Oftentimes, I just shrug my shoulders and say if it's meant to be, it will find its way. This goes to explain my lone status today. I'm not one to settle down and say, "Ah, this is it, finally." Frankly, the man I'm supposed to marry could be standing in front of me right now, and I wouldn't be able to figure it out. If he's good, I'd want him to be better. I never just stop and become contented with the way things are. I always strive for more.

And so I push myself to the limits, grab a pen, write my name on a book, and expect him to find it. In my mind, if he's worth it, he'll be back with it in his hands, no matter how long it takes, no matter the hardships and challenges he has to go through to retrieve it. If he doesn't find it, then it's not meant to be.

I know I have to change my views if I am to be happy. After all, I've come to realize that life's not a movie. You don't get to sit side by side, naming constellations together. No, those things are too good to be true.

Life's harder. Life's life.

Sunday, August 7, 2011

And So I'm Sailing Through The Sea.

Just finished reading the whole Shopaholic series by Sophie Kinsella today,excluding the one entitled Mini Shopaholic. I've yet to have a copy of it.

I feel like I'm being pried further away from my life each day. I'm snappy and I get annoyed easily,and although I know this shouldn't really concern anyone, (my family and myself included), I feel like something's wrong with me...but who can tell?

I want to be skinny. Shamelessly skinny, so I could wear those awfully small but cute shirts they sell in the mall and actually look good for once, not that I have any money to pay for them, of course, but still... I just want to be ok again, so that I'll feel pretty, and my aunt wouldn't have to knock on my door all the time, reminding me to eat. She really does that and it gets on my nerves most of the time, and I don't even bother hiding my annoyance. Because it's annoying.

I think I'm going to be rich someday. If only that day could come sooner than later, then I'll be free to buy whatever I want to buy at the moment. I need some space to breathe. I want people to look at me the way they used to. I used to be beautiful in their eyes. Now, not so much. Because I've gained weight. Because in this society, not being  fatally skinny means being fat.

Seriously,one question. Is this what my children will grow up to when the time comes?

Thursday, August 4, 2011

The Wound. The Scar.

There are times when I'm in the middle of a happy place and suddenly, my heart just starts sinking beneath my chest. Lower, lower and lower till I swear I can feel it at the the very soles of my feet.

I don't know if I'm asking for too much. I grew up living my life with my grandmother, with my aunts, and there are more than enough times when I feel, when I know, when I can tell myself for sure that I can't ask for anything more than that, and that doubtlessly, this is the only life for me.

There are those few rare moments though when my mind wanders in the middle of the night, or at daytime when I spot a couple leading their kid by the hand, when I feel like asking myself, what if?

What if my mother wanted me, just for once? Not to be cruel, there are times when she does like me. I'll even go as far as saying there are times when it seems like she loves me. But then again, do we expect a balloon to hold the air inside forever when we blow it up? No, we don't. We know that at some point, it will have to fly away, or just inflate itself or something out of the blue the next day. It doesn't stay still for anyone, and that's what my mother's feelings for me are like.

Sometimes, it feels as though she regrets ever having me for a daughter. It's one of the toughest feelings in the world, longing for someone's acceptance and feeling like no matter what you do or say, nothing will ever be good enough. You will never be good enough. You start wondering if things would be a lot better if you'd done differently. If you'd listened to her when she asked you to buy a garlic clove when you were five, and not come back with a jar of vinegar instead. You start asking if she'd love you if only you stopped wrapping yourself up in that stupid yellow and purple polka dot blanket, pretending you were a beauty queen, when she asked you to. Maybe you shouldn't have asked that they exchange you and your sister's names, even tough it was impossible, just because you thought hers sounded better. Maybe you should have been more like your sister. If you were, would she like you then?

Too many questions, and all they do is add to the pain. All I can do is cry myself to sleep most nights, a girl of 20, endlessly asking why.

Sunday, July 17, 2011


I logged on to Facebook today. One of the few disadvantages of having a Facebook account when you're someone like me, someone who basically has no life, is seeing the people you grew together with finally becoming what they once said they wanted to be, while you're stuck in this snow globe, surrounded by pretty things, but this time, you're on the inside, looking out.

While horizons of possibilities stretch out for my friends, here I am, waiting for my future to unfold. I'm never one to wait on people, never one to wait for things. Had I not made one single, stupid mistake, I would be walking that road with them.

Don't get me wrong. I love the life I'm living. My family always gives me whatever I want, but somehow, I want to be able to stand on my own. I want to be that kind of girl who lives on her own, who has a job, who has a circle of friends to go out with for drinks on Friday nights. I want to have to face deadlines, cram for reports for the next day, make hard decisions. I want to live, and this jealousy is killing me.

It's depressing o look at old photos and see yourself with your friends. With youth scribbled on your faces and dreams sparkling in your eyes, that glimmer of hope you once had. It's hard, remembering the laughter you've shared, the words you said before the camera flashed. It's hard, knowing that they're all over the world now--- in Singapore, making their dreams come true, dreams that once included you; in their alumni school, teaching; at home, tending to their husbands and kids. Everyone's rowing their own boats, and you feel like you're lost at sea.

Despite this, I keep telling myself that it's only a matter of time. I have no idea what the future holds for me, but I know that if it's taking this long to build, it must be something pretty.

Oftentimes, wonderful things don't come easy.

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Thursday, Hurtsday.

There are those moments in life when, one particularly gray Thursday afternoon, you'll step into the shower and cry.

Loss is a word that should be illegal for a dictionary, or any person to find synonyms for. After all, it's not something any word can describe. I even believe it's just called loss so people would have an easier time expressing how they feel.

It's annoying how life hits us sometimes. One day, you feel like you're on top of the world, like a kid on the longest slide, enjoying the air in your face, not realizing that sooner or later, it will be over. And then there's reality, right at the very mouth of that slide, waiting to swallow you whole. You won't even have time to scream.

Loss. Longing. Is there a difference? Is one wound deeper, more painful than the other? Loss, I think, pertains to something you once had. Longing, on the other hand, is wishing you've had that very thing, which then brings you to experience loss.

Sometimes, I want to pinch and peel at the scabs of my wounds, just to see if my skin is healing itself underneath. Sometimes, it's already whole again. Most of the time, I'm left bleeding for the same reasons.

My tears feel prickly in my eyes. I wonder, if I jab at my stomach hard enough, if the words I can't say will spill out of my mouth, just like the most previous meal does when I feel like I don't deserve it. Just like it does when I remember that feeling of elation, so heavenly, like there's a star caught in my throat. It used to feel like walking barefoot on grass---falling in love did. I wonder if it still feels like that now. I wonder if butterflies will still lurch in my stomach when someone else regards me as no less than beautiful, like they do now when I think of the last time. I wonder why, after everything that's been said and done, I'm still here, waiting. Like a best friend perched on the front porch steps of the guy she's loved all her life, waiting for him to crawl back to her arms, if only for a little while. I wonder if one day, I will just wake up and tell myself that it's over...that it has been over, all this time.

It's like slipping on a puddle of black tar on the floor, and holding on to a live wire for dear life. Both hurt, one more dangerous than the other, but you hold on to it anyway.


Because no matter how hard you try to talk some sense into yourself...

No matter what your mind says...

You know. Your heart knows. It's the only thing that keeps you standing.

Sunday, July 10, 2011

Where The Things That Hurt Are Not Things.

In this dream, I was walking.

No, running. I'm running, fast and hurried and looking back every five seconds or so to check if they've caught up yet.

I didn't know who  or what I was running from, but I knew I was in danger. Was it the past, the future, or the present? Was it the spaces in between them, all balled into one, the times I've never really been sure about?

In this dream, I was at a plaza one moment, panting for breath, looking for a friendly face, and the next thing I knew, I was in the middle of an endless, empty field. Empty, except for the one farmer who pointed me where to go. Who was he? Was he all the dreams I wanted to achieve, showing their selves to me in person?

Don't worry, dreams. I'll follow you.

Off I went, to this gray city with even grayer skies, like a monster whose teeth are made up of old buildings, covered in peeling paints that once used to be white. Its grunts were the car horns, dead, shallow. I was with my friends, and we were talking about getting to the top of the highest building. Why?

This is not as wonderful as you thought it would be. If you're settling for second rate, you might at least want to be at the top.

In this dream, I could easily bleed the colors no one would have expected. Green, because I'm jealous of everyone else whose lives turned out to be more convenient. Luxurious, even.

Red, because my sorrow is just that much.

Black, because it's all the colors, combined. I've been through everything. Warm, cool, appealing, repulsive.

Do I regret any of this?

No. I'd do it all over again.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

A Not So Beautiful Mess

I woke up really early today. I've been one of those people with too much time in their hands.Ones who were anxious for something,and that thing just couldn't come to me soon enough.If I were in a movie,I would have been pacing back and forth.

Have you ever felt so empty,so sad and lifeless that you didn't know what to do? I told myself I'll be fine.I thought if I spilled it all out in paper,everything would be better.But I was wrong.I wasn't inspired,so when I held the pen,nothing came out. I just stared at the paper,its blankness mirrored mine,and the next thing I knew,my tears were dropping quickly one by one,marking it just like the rain marks the ground.

When my father died, 8 years ago, I wasn't sure how I felt. I cried,of course,but I couldn't tell if I was crying because I was in pain,or simply because it was expected of me.I wasn't close to him.I didn't grow up knowing who he was,what he liked,how he felt about certain things. And so I came to the conclusion that just because people were born with different fates and taking different paths doesn't mean bonds aren't supposed to form between us.

We pray so hard for particular things.Please,don't let him die.But people die all the time,anyway.Does this mean God isn't listening? I prayed for some things,one with more intensity than the other. I've made bargains-give me this and I won't (insert bad deed here) again.We try hard to keep our faiths,but some things just happen,and that faith is shaken until we start questioning,why me? Why now?

I'm not writing this to provide those questions with even the farthest possible answers,because I'm not God,and I doubt that even God can or will answer them.I'm doing this to raise more questions,possibly,because now more than ever,I'm confused with life.

Why do some things seem to only happen to me? One day,I'd lose my laptop.When I've found a way to acquire a new one,I'm almost prepared to lose my phone or something as important,and more often than not,I'm right.Why? Because we can't always have it both ways.Life doesn't work that way.In order to gain something,we've got to let go of something else in return,and no,it's never a pleasant feeling.But we have to look at the brighter side if we want to keep our sanity intact. How will you be able to pick something up if your hands are full?Sometimes,you have to decide which you need more,regardless of how much you like the other one.But what if you just don't want to pick it up?What if you're already contented with having what you're being asked to lose?

Not everyone is given a second chance,not even a choice sometimes.Life's strange,you'd say,and I used to just laugh at your profoundness.Now,I miss it.I miss you. I'd like to scream at your face and say I told you so,when all I really want to do is to ask you to fight and not give in to this.

You have been given a second,a third, a fourth chance. Now you're being given a choice. Wake up. There are so many things you have to hear from me.

Sunday, June 12, 2011

A Story About Penguins.

It was Monday, when she met him.

Out of the corner of her eyes, she watched as he strode effortlessly from one group to another, followed by high fives, laughter, and the infatuated eyes of girls like her, waiting for him to melt them with that smile. He, a freshman whose stance was that of a Senior. Part of the varsity team, always working hard to have his way. He, who firmly believes that everything was combined luck and hard work. He, whom she have seen for the first time that day, and, within ten minutes or maybe even less, managed to catch her attention, and never let it go since then.

She sighed, having no experience on anything that has to do with love. At her young age, she has read numerous books and novels describing the indescribable feeling, and she'd fall for it every time. She would hug her book to her chest and wear that smile, showing off her braces, and a cloud of romantic fantasies would start growing over her head- a boy holding her hand, telling her all the things she needed to hear. It was always like that for her. Dreams. She, whose skin was a joke compared to all the girls she'd always seen in the glossy pages of her favorite teen magazine. She, who never had a bad hair day, which meant no good ones either, for that matter. She, whose black rimmed glasses would fall off her nose each time she bowed her head too low, deeply engrossed in answering a Sudoku puzzle, or reading a romance novel, or doing her friends' Math homework for them. Simply put, he was the boy next door. She, as painful as it was for her to admit, was just a hopeless romantic, just another starry eyed girl, waiting for her turn to fall in love, and be loved in return.

What she didn't know, and what he didn't have the heart to tell her, was how adorable she looked everytime she'd sneak out of her classes and pretend to be going to the ladies room, just so she could catch a glimpse of him. How, in his peripheral vision, when she was too busy trying to hide herself in the crowd just so he wouldn't notice that she was looking, he'd stare as her for as long as he could, memorizing everything about her, admiring her from afar. How lovely he thought her skin was. How, in the middle of the night, when she was sitting by her window, wishing at the stars, he lied awake thinking about her. He wanted to tell her about himself, and get to know her in return, but he thought so mighty of her that he wouldn't even dare. For him, she was a dream, and only luck could bring them together.

And so one particular day, it was exam week, and everyone was out late for lunch. The cafeteria was full, and her friends were still not done with their exams. Every bench outside was occupied, too. She chose a spot on a patch of grass under a maple tree, sitting cross legged, eating her sandwich without any drink. She couldn't be bothered to get in line and get one for herself, so she decided she would just drink water from the tap when she was done.

He, on the other hand, didn't have to get in line to get his food. He didn't even have to pay. Everything was handed to him, either from his teammates in varsity, or the girls trying to catch his attention. On his hand were a carton of juice and a bag of cookies, and also a hotdog sandwich. Everyone offered him their seats, but that was when he spotted her, alone, leaning against the trunk of the tree. Nervous, he gathered all the courage he could muster to bring himself to her and make a small talk.

"Today must be my lucky day," he said, offering her his juice.

That was the beginning of everything.

Friday, June 10, 2011

Ohai June.

Wah, hi blog that I almost have forgotten and nearly thrown out the internet trash, how are you doing?

Wowza, I've just looked at my calendar and it says June 10. Let's see. Hmmm. I paid my internet bills today,and I'm kinda avoiding social networking (I'm obviously failing though) and getting lost in my music. I can't decide which of the new music albums I currently acquired are the best, but Christina Perri's Lovestrong and Maria Mena's Cause And Effect are pretty good.Adele, too, but who doesn't expect that? Adele's a goddess.

As of now,I'm just spending every single day at home, sleeping or reading a book. I'm gaining a lot of weight, it actually bothers me,but what can I do, noh? I'm so lame....This is like having an awkward conversation with an old friend.I have a lot to say,and I have nothing to say at the same time.

I'm not sad.I have no reason to be sad. My family provides me with all the things I need. All I really do here is sit and lay around and watch TV and listen to music and use the computer and eat and sleep. I'd watch romance movies and end up wondering why there's no one for me to runaway with when I turn 21. I miss seeing people's faces and hearing their voices. I miss getting on a random bus,most of all,just so I could be left alone with my music. It's really true that you only realize what you took for granted once it's gone. For me, it's those times when I can tell when I'm sad or when I'm bored. Right now, I can't see the difference between the two.

I've just been spending a lot of time thinking about life. Why we're all here,why there are rich people and poor people,what the government is for,when the government itself can't govern themselves.Pretty deep, noh? That's what solitude does to you.

Sometimes,I wish people wouldn't leave. I wish no one dies,even though I know that would cause a lot more trouble than it's worth. When does life really end?Is it when you're finally six feet under,with your name carved on a marble stone? When you're still breathing,but finally decided to stop living,doesn't life end there for you?So many questions,and it bothers me that only I can answer these for myself.

Saturday, May 28, 2011

To Make You Feel My Love.

As usual,it's just another one of those nights when the breeze is too cold and I'm obviously too much of a dramatic to refuse listening to Yiruma and all these piano pieces that remind me so much of love.

I'm very happy for my friends. They've been changing relationship statuses on Facebook here and there, my News Feed is filled with heart pinned updates of this girl I used to go to Elementary school with in a relationship with some guy she probably met in College. I see status messages of someone I used to have a major crush on, telling everyone that he has finished submitting all the requirements he needed to graduate. All he needs to do now is wear a hideous graduation gown and cap and he's done with school forever. Everyone around me seems to have a purpose in life. They all know where they're headed, or at least, where they want to. They have people who would do anything to be with them, even if "anything" means skipping classes or disobeying their parents' rules or ditching their friends. I'm so stuck here and I don't know what I want from life.

I can't see anything I could be or want to be in the future. My mother hates ne for not graduating when I was supposed to, even though mu grandmother, who paid for everything, never gave me a single word about it. I feel like I've always been just a burden for my Mom. Nothing I ever do could please her and I don't know why. Maybe she thinks I'm just a mistake who ruined her life. She wouldn't even talk to me on the phone. It's like I don't exist for her anymore. Now everything that matters to her is my sister, when she didn't even greet her on her birthday, and I did. That also happened on Mothers Day.

I just want to feel like I belong somewhere but it seems like people don't appreciate the good things others did anymore. You're not judged by how good you are or how hard you try. Do something bad, one single thing, and everything you've worked hard to earn goes down the drain.