Love Shit

I'm curious.

This emotion that has captured oh-so-many hearts brought inexplicable joy and dooming misery to its user. I don't get it. I'm ashamed at the number of times I've tried, and failed. It ticks me off.

Once upon a time I told myself to lock my heart and throw its keys. To build emotional barriers to prevent myself from feeling the pain I can see people around me were feeling. Which is just even better because, me? Love? Yeah, I want to think I don't make bad choices in that issue. But I do.

So I finally succeed in accepting the fact that love will just have to wait. But then a stupid person walks right in and squashes that belief, until you go, "Damn, I'm in love."

And suddenly you understand why that dude build the Taj Mahal for his wife, why Juliet stuck a dagger to her heart, why the Trojan war started because of a run-away queen.

How a thing called love could subject countless poems, books and songs. How it can sway battles, and change minds, to alter history. How a thing called love could cause people to be contradictory and thickheaded and was so often the demise of great lovers and powerful men. How a thing so trivial as love, so insignificant as a look or a touch or a hug, rule thousands.

Basically, you get it. What love is. At least you think so until life's poker game unfairness snaps you back to reality to remind you that life is not perfect. And that all good things must come to an end.

So there, that ticks me off.

But you know what really ticks me off?
The fact that after life's harshness and love's complications, it's just the beginning. And there's more.

Bite That Apple

The Advertising industry are evil manipulators.

First you see it in a magazine ad surrounded by enhanced texts with the item- all shiny. It's enhanced by colors that are either pop art or the corporate opposite. You nod at its beauty. "Aaah,", you say. What's even more eye candy is that it seduces you to the words such as SALE, and for some reason you flip the page with the item immediately swimming in your subconscious, thus an indication that the desire to buy is planted.

Fast forward:

You turn on your T.V. Having no subscription to cable, you get to view some three minute advertisements every seven or so minutes of the program you patronize to watch. The visuals you saw earlier on the paper is there again. Blood rushes through your system signaling you to some "Buy-me syndrome". The television ad is even more commanding than the previous. The audio goes well with its now animated geezer. You scorn the fact that some loser is the one wearing it instead of you. You somehow resist.

More fast forward:

But the thought is addictive even outside, you drool at some highway billboards, mall pamphlets and gawk even at door ad comfort rooms. Eventually the corporate bastard would win you by some million-dollar effort.

This audio-visual bombardment covets you to buy things you don't really need. And the ironic part? It makes you regret after purchase.

A week ago, I bought a pair of brown-tinted Mango aviators. The tag price didn't bother me- my godmother gave me a shopping voucher as an early birthday gift. Later that day, I wondered why I bought chose it in the first place.

A confession: "Buy-me syndrome" is still in my head; I think I want an iPod video. In two week's time, I'd be broke, unless I snap out of this.

To my future 30 gig iPod video:
I don't need you, but I want you.. "my preciousss".

Wide Awake

The soft snores of my 9-year-old sister echoed our semi-darkened room. No matter how much I tried, my efforts to retain body heat had no use and coldness still engulfs me. Slight movements from below brought screeching creaks and irritating shakiness, threatening to break our aged bunk bed. I could hear the tick tock's of our Winnie the Pooh supposedly-broken clock.

I'd shut my eyes in an attempt to fall into a slumber but moreover, my senses to my surroundings just increased. I could feel the steady pounding of my chest, the cold air brushing my toes, my long mane of hair irritating my neck and one of Benjie's stuffed arms. Sleeping was the farthest thing on my mind.

I stood and opened the balcony door enough to let the chilly air tickle my face. And there it was. Hanging loftily on the sky, the moon would appear teasing, as if tempting its watchers to gaze longer. If only its partner-in-crime, the stars would illuminate brighter. Who knows, maybe I could make a wish.

I'd go back to bed and sink further to my blankets when I hear the unmistakable soft footsteps of my dad going off for a midnight snack. Once again, I'm back to forcing myself to sleep. And then I'd reminiscence the day's events and whatnots, recalling incomplete notes and due projects. Or I'd just simply put on my earphones, listening to slow jams and the DJ's mellow-like voice.

Sleeping during class or weekend mornings feels blissful, yet when it is the right time to sleep I turn to a restless owl.

Which is probably why I find myself turning on my pc and chat with fellow insomniacs. Maybe by the time I post this entry I'll be drowsy enough to sleep.

Consequence of Not Wearing Glasses

Cheating in our school is easy . I mean, the teachers are blind and oblivious to what the students do the moment they turn their backs. Especially in Term Exams, I'd see students doing different kind of methods. It's like evolution is taking place in the cheating world every tests and exams. Once, I even got hit by a ball of tissue paper filled with definitions of IT terms last Term Exam.

For some inexplicable reason, I was never one of those people who can cheat efficiently. You see, I'm one of those people who get heard by a half the class whenever I try to whisper. So, pretending to cough and catch one of my friend's attentions in an attempt to know an answer? Yeah, not a good idea.

I had a mental block in our Arabic test the other morning. I just saw the paper and then, poof! It was as if everything I knew leaked out. I recognized the questions and I knew the answers. I was just incapable of jotting it down due to my freakoutedness.

During tests and exams, students are made to sit with students from other year, either higher or lower. Occasionally, I either get stuck with uber serial poke-ist or snobbish students. Thank heavens; the girl next to me was someone I knew from the school choir. Oh, but that's not it. She knows and speaks Arabic too.

She noticed my nervous fidgeting. After a while, she looked at my paper directly, wrote something on her paper and made a gesture towards that told to me to look at her paper to see what she wrote.

It was an answer to the definition I left blank.

Wee. I have the answer!

After they collected the papers, she looked at me and said, 'You dum-dum! You know Pamela, you really need to get your glasses fixed!' I stared blankly at her and she went on, 'I told you to copy this,', she doodle at a scrap of paper what she meant, 'But you wrote this,' she once doodled at the scrap of paper.

I looked hard at both of them. And I realized what she meant. I copied it wrongly. She wrote the correct answer. But I, who rarely wears glasses, didn't see it properly, hence spelt it incorrectly. Gah. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Favorite Place

Our class, labeled to be the nosiest on the senior floor, was doing more noise pollution the other day in English class. Our topic was colloquial words. But somehow it got shifted to what our favorite places are.

It was kinda interesting in an eye-opening way [?]. Rooftop building, balcony, kitchen, chair in front of computer, home countries, cometary, friend's house, toilet, markets and so on. Those were some of my friends' "favorite places".

I didn't get a chance to tell mine.

Okay, I take that back. I didn't want to tell mine at all. I dunno. I guess I just wanted to keep it to myself.. or maybe, I'm just too much of a coward to admit mine. Yeah, lame. I know.

While listening to my classmates go on and on about their favorite places, I could only think of one possible favorite place: a book. Or anything with a pencil or paper, for that matter.

Yes. A book. Gah, I'm such a geek. Whatever. When I read, everything cease to exist. It is just me, the book or a pencil as well, and maybe my shuffle-mode mp3 player or whatever, but I don't actually hear it since I'd be too absorbed. When you're reading, you could sit down at one o'clock and not look up again until five, and not even have any idea that time has passed by until someone mentions it, because you've been so caught up in what you're reading.

One of my close friends noticed I wasn't telling mine. She just went, "Oh, I know yours! It's those books!"

The thing is our English teacher said that her favorite place is a book too. She told us that's why she choose to be an English teacher. That creeps me out a bit. I mean, does that mean I'd be an English teacher too?

Gah. No freaking way.

Closure

Meron ako palaging napapaginipan.
Oh, talaga?
Oo. At alam mo ba kong sino siya?
Sino?
Ikaw.

---

So, ano?
Yes.
Wait, is that a yes yes?
Oo nga eh.

---

Halika, idemanda na naten!
Sige. Kunhari ako pa lawyer mo.
Ay, wag na. Baka hindi pa tayo masama sa mga lakad.
Ok lang yun. Samahan kita. Bibisitahin nila tayo.
Haha. Sira!

---

It's almost 4 am.
I know.
Inaatok ka na ba?
Oo.
So, I'll call you later na lang?
Wag muna. Gusto pa kita kausapin.

---

Parang gusto ko na nga umiyak eh.
Uy, wag ka umiyak.
Bakit naman?
Iiyak din ako.

---

Ayoko na.
Anong ayaw mo na?
I'm sorry.
You're breaking up with me?
I'm sorry.

---

Lack of the right words are engulfing my brain. My emo side is kicking in. I woke up this morning thinking it was as normal as any other day. And then I realize what day it was. No, we broke up so it's not much of an anniversary, more like an erm, supposed-to-be anniversary. I would mention the curse-est curse now if only I wasn't so depressed to think of one.

Randomnisity

Don't mind the title. I don't think it even exists.

How will I start? For the past few minutes I've been trying and failing to finish a paragraph. There. I just deleted one again. Why did I make it in the first place if I was going to delete it?

I'm bored. No, correction. I have tons of stuff I have to do. I'm just procrastinating. I've learned from my past stupefied mistakes that when I don't want to do something I have to, I often become lazy. Then procrastinate. And then suffer the struggle of cramming workload in the last minute.

Gah. Enough.

On a completely different note:

- Our school's headmaster came to our Life Skills the other day, badgering us on our religious beliefs. And somehow, the topic came to what's the difference between assertive and aggressive, on a religious' mind level.

It's rumored that our headmaster is an atheist. He went on about a lot of things that most of us disagreed on. Most of us just listened. Our school's pretty conservative on being opinionated (ie, students with blogs are punished for some unknown reason).

- Why is Boy Bawang called Boy Bawang? Really. I understand the bawang part. But why is there a boy pa? Is it because the inventor was a guy?

Or maybe the inventor was a girl but her nickname was 'boy'? Hey, it could happen. One of my close friend's nickname is 'boy'. And she sure is a girl. It's just that the was chubby when she was younger so she was called, 'Baboy'. Only they shortened it to 'boy'.

- People find it easier to open up about their problems or perform/present in front of people they know very well or strangers. Right? Well, I do.

I once performed in an open mall for Dubai Music School without any severe nervousness yet my mom have to give me evil looks before I sing a karaoke song during occasions. Oh, and one of the things I sometimes write here are unknown to the most people I'm close to. Weird, right? I guess there's some sort of psychological reason for that.

Hm. On second thought, I'd rather not.

- Envelopes. It's pronounced as 'on-ve-lop'. Not 'en-ve-lop'.

My 7th grade English teacher explained to us back then that 'envelope' is in fact a French word that's erm, adapted by the English. Thus, pronouncing it wrong since in French grammar 'e' is pronounced with the sound of 'o'. It tuns out that half English-speaking people people don't know this. Isn't that cool? Yeah, I'm such a geek at times.

- ABC and twinkle twinkle have the same rhythm. My friend told me this after reading a Friendster bulletin. Sad to say, I actually sang it in my head to make sure.

Anyways. My YM's is emitting alarmingly, loud pinging sounds since I'm not responding to any of my friends. Hm, they must be annoyed since I'm always the one complaining they're taking too long to reply. Haha.

Discovering Anime

For the first time in many weeks, I wasn't late at school. My mind was barely functioning properly, my hair resembled something like a bird's nest and my body was craving for the comforts of my bed.

'Pamela!! I love naruto!'

My classmate, Julia burst into our class, screeching and possibly damaging my eardrums. She started babbling and gibbering how, when and all other details she could think of about her newfound love- naruto.

Actually, I don't watch anime at all. I've never really tried. I thought it was just pointless to watch a bunch of cartoons, only to struggle reading the subtitles since I can't understand the language.

In our school, only Filipinos and a few other students actually know what naruto or even anime is. Being her only choice left as her listener, I was given an in dept, full-blown details of each and every episode she watched. Though my naruto-addicted friends have told me almost the same thing, I found myself being intrigued by it.

Which was probably why right now I'm waiting, waiting, and getting annoyed that the episode is taking so ridiculously long to load.

Today was the Open House. I was depressed and bored at the same time. When I wasn't blog hopping or downloading mp3s, I was trying to ignore the dread of what might my teacher might be telling my mom right at that moment.

I guess I didn't even realize the extent of my boredom since I looked up an anime site and explored the world that has captured oh-so-many hearts.

And you know what? I'm hooked. Addicted. Passionate. Yadiyadiya, you get the picture.

Oh, yes. It finished loading. Yay!

Renewed Friendship

From afar we looked like any other normal 15-year-old friends.

Our conversation was easy and flowing. We were eager to go home and rest but we were quite comfortable with each other's presence. We laughed like old times, talked about almost everything, sang stupidly in the light drizzle that appears only during winter in this desert city, made fun of each other, share unmentioned happenings in our little world.

No one would have ever guessed that the same time a year ago, I would have looked passed her and went on. We did everything to avoid each other. We were just polite used-to-be friends that don't talk. We have similar friends. It was kinda awkward when we're forced to be with each other; cold and unresponsive to each other's presence.

Many things drove us apart. Mainly her (and others) disapproval of my boyfriend back then that apparently caused my changes. Then each other's new set of friends. Add that to the fact that she's ...

Fights broke out, revenges were started, I didn't care anymore if other people thought bad of her and her friends. I was too driven with emotions.

There were times I wondered why would they said those things or wished her (and others) head would just be chopped off. I can't remember the number of times I say, Bitch! every time her (and others) name were mentioned.

Eventually everything passed by like a blur. Time and space allowed us to heal and forgive. The desire to attempt for a fresh start in the light that this would our last years in highschool probably drove us to rekindle.

They were gaps.

But it was better.

I kept the new set of friends, lost the boyfriend and supported her relationship with her boyfriend. She (and others) accepted my ex-boyfriend ( before we even broke up), befriended my new friends and happy that I'm quite close to her new friends.

A while ago, when we bid each other goodbye, it was kinda hard to believe that for the first time this year our conversation and goodbye sounded almost.. real. Sincere.

I guess the time and space did help.

When The Results Came

The dislike for the first day since the winter break increased. Enthusiasm to normally gossip about each other's holidays quickly evaporated.

Tension in the room was high. The air felt colder even though the air-conditioner was off. Everyone had a solemn expression on their terrified faces. Anyone who entered the room could immediately sense the anticipation screaming out. Palms were sweating excessively; hearts were thumping nervously in our chest.

The class once labeled the nosiest had its loudest scream of silence. Teachers wasted no time breaking our young hearts. It was hard to decipher whether they had joy giving us those grieving news or felt saddened by our loss.

When the papers were given, I could tell everyone had a similar thought. It was sketched all over their face, "How am I going to tell my parents?"

Everyone got disappointing grades. It felt as if our pride and dreams was being stamped on the floor and torn to pieces by a merciless monster. It was a harsh blow to those who felt they deserved more, those who really worked hard to exceed their parents' expectations and persisted in studying.

When all was said and given, silence filled the room once again. We were too shocked to talk, too numb to cry, too worried about our parents' reaction, too busy checking if the marks were counted wrong. We wondered. "If this was just the beginning, how are we supposed to cope with the difficulty for the next semester or moreover, years?"

My academic grades have always been good enough. Thankfully, I wasn't below average but not above either. Just average. But today, I got my first D. Never in my life have I experienced seeing a D in my report card and suffer the struggle of explaining to my parents why their first daughter got a D.

Marks and grades seem insignificant compared to wars and poverty. But for a 9th grader, or any student for that matter it is significant. You study and work hard, developing nervous breakdowns and headaches from all the confusion. And after all that it's still not enough.

"To succeed, you have to fail a few times."

But how many times do you have to fail before you succeed? When will it be enough?

New Year

In the year 2006,

- Met new friends, lost some.
- Been talked about behind my back by someone I thought was a friend.
- Judged by a frickin hypocrite who barely knows me.
- Had my first serious relationship.. and broke up.
- Drew away from God.
- Lied to my parents about a LOT of things.
- Sneaked out of the house.
- Got increasingly low marks.
- Got caught in places and with people I'm not supposed to be with.
- Went to a police station.
- Been a hypocrite and two-faced.
- Found God again.
- Befriend and forgive ex-friends.
- Was too late to become friends with someone.
- Was mean to a newcomer.
- Broke people's hearts and got my heart broken as well at times.


Gah. I'd rather not continue. Haha. I try so hard to remember the nice and happy things but no. I can only remember the shitty things I've done.

What to do? That's life. You try to be perfect and that's what it might it seem but reality slaps you right in the face to remind you it's crazy. Gahh. Lord, it's another year. Gusto ko na bagong buhay. Let me follow You.

So my resolution for this year?
Hmm.. think more. Definitely!