I've yet to finish the day's workload, which is the PD Wine Bottle design shit.
Am in a foul mood because some bitch is ze most annoying.
Imma take a shower now.
Friday, January 30, 2009
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU NICUUURRR AND PAPAJURMS!
Pare, I am no longer an E.K. Virgin! \m/
Pictures here after the edit.
Geno bitch goddess, you are much missed, you techiedumb fashion guru, you.
[Narration mode ON]
Because I was late for AdPrac, I had no choice but sit at the boys' corner (e.g. back of the class, left side facing the board). The whole area reeked of boy-ness, and when I couldn't stand it any longer, I told Nici I'm moving back my usual seat when Teta leaves, which she did shortly.
FYI we flunked the first half of AdPrac... our Chapter One was a total failure, and we barely/didn't meet the cut-off of the prelims. Therefore, upon moving back, I was greeted with a sheet of paper where our half-sem resolutions are listed.
The list was entitled "BAGUHIN NA NATIN ANG BUHAY NATIN :)" and is written in tag-lish. Putang list yun.. fierce!
"...Pangapat. More time for plates, less time for boyfriends (Jompy (and Jihan), Bombee, Miguel, Mackyboy, and Jay Manalo "Kim", Xian? (Isasama ba natin si Gel dito? Hahaahaha!"
"...Panglima. Ang events na excused tayong lahat ay birthday ni Nica (Bukas! EK tayo, STARCITY) & Valentines & Fieldtrip. The rest vacant. Wag na isama birthday ni Teta."
Because of the unclear copy, I can remember the other parts being prayers for War to arrive causing us to graduate without labor, and setting a lunch date for us girls, and something about a dysfunct unipin.
I love you girls.
[Narration Mode OFF]
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Le boyfriend does not want his pics taken.
"Anu pang silbi ng gwapo ka, ayaw mo naman magpapicture."
YEEAAAHEEHH!! IBA KA NA! I LOVE YOU!
meet my boldstar boyfriend.
di ka man lang pornstar. BOLDstar talaga.
AKALA MO DI KITA KAYA PICTURAN AH!
Ciempre kaylangan may pic din ako.
On a not so distant note...
"Sabik sayo kahit maghapon na tayong magkasama
Ang ating ending, hatid sa bahay nyo
Sabay goodnight, sabay may kiss, sabay bye-bye"
Friday, January 23, 2009
My chicas still my chicas.
I don't have classes tomorrow and there's this sense of serenity in just staring at the screen and thinking of what to write as if I have the whole night ahead of me. Fact is, ofcourse I still have work to do--loads!, and this habbit burns a huge fraction of my time.. but oh well, this is me.
Kung hei fat choi!
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
As it turns out... I have a very akward catwalk strut. Srutting is just like wowowee's hep-hep-hooray... watching them, you think that it couldn't be easier. But being on national tv or on the ramp gets you all nervy and mentally imbalanced.
The smell of you on my palm lingers.
I should be doing my plates, really...
But I'm not. Instead, I'm off having candlelit dinner and buying myself chunky pair of i've-been-dying-for heels. Yihee. And that on a sunday.
O life, why so sweet? :X
I'll be doing the (late) PackageDesign Wine label and box tonight. The effing studies.
Shiyet.. I'm so late.
Everyone got the grades of 0 to 4 out of 10 on Professional Ethics. This is the best time to hold firmly the belief "Stop taking grades too seriously". They are not what defines you, grades arent what will make you happy. And high grades doesnt make anyone much better at work anyway.
P.S. The post has been pre-revelation even if I've written it post-revelation. For making-yabang-the-boyfriend purposes.
P.P.S. Gawwd. It's just been one week, lover! :*
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Im not sure which words are fit to justify this revelation.
Does 'Love you' suffice?
Kasi, I do !..,o_O\m/\(^_^)/
Epal mo kaya. Why wont you show your face?
Need I say more?
Love you, boyfriend.
"Takip kng mata. Bwl syo yan."
-1/11/09 7:47 PM on On Titanic, Jack and Rose lovescene
Friday, January 16, 2009
Anong pinakamasama mong ugali?
Sa sobrang dami, hindi mo na mahahalata dahil di mo alam kung alin ang uunahin.
[continuation and edits later]
[SUPER DRAFT! VERY RAW!]
filled the tub with gushing lukewarmth
stripped off designer everything
shuffled out of her expensive panties
The tiles were cool under her toes
dowsed feet first
rested her body, long and skinny,
on the hard screechy metal surface
gracefully plunged her head against
the softness of the water
tangled brown hair afloat
make-up turned into blots of darkness under her eyes
Prozac don't work
Neither do prayers
the cold blade resting on her wrist will
As if slicing her skin open
Blood steadily oozing out
as if abstract smoke
No one knocks on her bathroom door
...negative only! :D
1. Effing emo. Ugh. Plus.. too girly. Not chic-lit though. Thanks to the emo-factor. \m/
2. Unable to communicate how the character is a "poor little rich girl"
3. Uncommon line cutting. Usually common is either good or bad... no gray areas. You are only permitted to be uncommon if you know what you're doing... which, I don't.
4. Still lacks aesthetic.
5. So effing raw that if pag sinabak mo to sa workshop you will cry blood. blood steadily oozing out pala ah!!!
6. Bitin. As always.
7. Where the fuck is your rhythm, bitch? And have you heard of wordplay???)
((comments on the comments:
2. YOU SHOULD'VE LET THEM DECIDE ON WHATS WRONG WITH THE POEM, NOT DIRECT THEM. And in terms of branding yourself, you just ruined it. Ugh.))
Thursday, January 15, 2009
It's been said that the key to a happy life is a poor memory. I can't exactly pinpoint who said those words, or how exactly. Bah! You know how much of a quote religous I am... I just really can't remember where I got that.
Anyway, point is... Can it be any truer?
Sometimes you just really have to leave it behind, don't you? My peers have diagnosed me as depressed via too much thinking... too much contemplating on why-I've-done-so's, could-have-been's, what-if's, how-will-I's, when, why... etc etc.
Well, I can't help but think, hhellluurrr. It's actually easier to manipulate another's mindset that manipulate your own.
Really, it's just so refreshing.
You can't erase it all, and there's no use in regrets. And those were memories anyway.
GAAWWD, AM I GOING IN CIRCLES?
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
So I was in the middle of my piece for the Dapitan folio... a fictional short story THEN I REALIZED HOW WEAK IT IS.
Ugghh!! Aggh! Shuuucckkkss!
And the fact that I'm forcing it in my schedule. And the fact that I've had two sleepless nights because I'm trying to glue the pieces of the story together.
(Grabe, its so cold I'm actually wearing socks.)
I've never really been humbled by anything. You know how my effing ego can get through the roof every once in a while, right. Well............ I don't know. Literature just won't let me.
It's like there's these sets of unspoken regulations you have to figure out for yourself before you start breaking them. And what fun is there if you don't break the rules anyway?
It's like learning to play the guitar all over again. It sucks. Your fingers are thickened by calluses but you you just can't fucking strum a 'B-minor' properly.
It's effing crazy.
But PackageDesign is crazier. Fucker you PD fucker you. You're just a 2-unit subject! So what if you're a major subject... there are other major subjects that needs my time, HELLOO!
I just remembere how excited I years back when I read that we had Package Design in our curriculum.
Gawwd... My mind just went emo for a while there. Hear hear! There are things in life that have been over-rated, take for example, a debut. It's surreal in your mind, but when the actual time arrives for it, it's so fucking real it's just lost its whoa-factor for the moment. Like, 'So I'm wearing a pretty dress and all the people I love are here. But fuck! My back is itching!'.
Then there are the nights when you're in the FX with a bunch of strangers and you have your ipod plugged in your ears and you hassle yourself along with everyone else with your big backpack and 15x20 illus boards.
BUT YOU FEEL SURREAL. The Tamaraw FX's airconditioning unit is just perfect, and you're all warm and cozy. The streets are familiar, but the movements of the cars and people aren't. And you're not smiling or frowning. You just feel perfectly fine.
GET WHAT I MEAN?
Okay.. this is ridiculous.
Back to PD. PD, you suck.
I've done enough work for the day. Imma try to sleep now. Try.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
I miss a lot of things.
I'd write it down, but I'd bore you and excite you. Haha, you know how controversy can get people going, right? And what's the use of writing my emotions publicly if I have nothing juicy to entertain you with?
So I miss a lot of things. I miss several people. Some who deserves to be missed, some who don't, some whom I dont think needs any missing to begin with. I miss doing stuff that I've stopped doing since [insert time frame category here].
I haven't concretized anything. This is juicy.
It isnt beyond me that I'm a rather outspoken piece of work. But my tagalog vocabulary has been diminished to the basics and dozen of kanto word expressions such as "todo", "olats", "hanep/hayup".
But no one's complaining.
I haven't blogged all week because I've been busy. Uhhuh. Prelims week next week and cfad have a very mesed up system of what's supposed to be preliminary examinations. This week may possibly be worse than the prelims itself because this is exacution week, and next week is submission. But because everyone crams, we'll still be under inhumane labor til next week.
Why am I explaining it??
I so lack literary material right now.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Saturday, January 3, 2009
Dear Jomel Pakyu,
You are juvenile-ing me because that is the inevitable part of the systematic world amen. Ayaw mo sumikat dahil may tamang oras para jan. Pogi ka kasi. I will spare you from the trouble.
Oh sheeet. No please.
Jomel crush ka ng bayan. Ang pogi mo. Sabi ni Yuniz type ka niya. Ayihee kilig siya.
Type ka din daw ni XP.
Lalo na ni Tiano jusko.
Atsaka ni kuya na taga Mendiola. Ung nag-aayos ng mike, gitara, etc natin.
Jomel you are the love of my life and you will make us libre when your daddy goes bye bye to abroad. I will love you until the end of time. God bless you.
"Walang baklang pangit, pag si Jomel ay gipit."
Let's make this firm and brief.
1. No to beer, (and coke)
2. I will (finally) be driving
3. I should (finally) learn to walk in heels
4. I will stop whoring around. No more kissing guys just because my guts says so and my lips are itching to. Idle lips no more!
*Oooh. I will stop cursing and cussing. My globe will be active. I will use a planner again.
**I will stop playing games. I will not smoke because it is very bad for the teeth and skin (despite the wonderful fact that it gives you the perfect relaxing mild high.)
I will do what my insticts/guts/feelings/wachamacallitwhatverfuck tell me to, because in the end you decide for yourself.
Ipasa-dyos nlng natin lahat ng maaari.
2009 has a nice ring to it.
Where is the promised 2009 entry?
You know, the one that is full of hope and dreams. Promises and resolutions. Excitement, agitation, but with the letting fate/God bring you to the year's lovely end for that touch of laidbackness?
Where has my poetry gone?
Are we unhealthy for our moral welfare?
Lots of love, myself.
Warning: Bitch fit content.
I am fighting insomnia.
I was thisclose to sleeping with my make-up and shoes on, in the same jeans and shirt I've worn for the day/night (whichever). That, without the usual prepping up. At 12fucking am when my dad knocked REPEATEDLY, INSENSITIVELY just to ask me to fucking charge my mom's ipod touch.
1. Why does He have to tell me? Why can't my mom do it? Very usually in my life, I'd say girl power and all thet non-bullshit, but this is sooo ridiculous. Annoying. Insulting. Why does he have to be such a dog and follow after all my mom's trivial beckonings. Especially when she's the one whose not being the better half these days (months, years)?
2. In mid-sleeping, once disturbed, I very much can't go back to it. --Something very wrong and unlikely with the sentence, but what the fuck right?
There's no poetry in annoyance anyway.
3. IT'S 2:53 AND I'M STILL NOT ASLEEP / SLEEPY.
For the past two days, all I've written in this blog are negative notions when I ought to be attracting the positive energy.
What the hell.
I'll get it right soon. I have more or less or exactly 362 days to fix getting it right.
You have to hand it to me though, I'm fighting insomnia. Still fighting insomnia. Fuckity fuck. (Annoyance is back) WHY WON'T MY MOM GET ME TO THE DOCTOR!?!??! WHY DO I HAVE TO DEAL WITH THIS WITHOUT HER? WHY DO THEY KEEP ON PROMISING ME THAT THEY'LL HELP ME WITH THIS WHEN THE MOST I GOT IS HAVE SOME OBVIOUSLY UNINTERESTED AND TOO GENERAL SEMI-PUBLIC DOCTOR CHECK ON ME AND HAVE HIM TELL ME IT'S JUST BECAUSE OF ANXIETY.
I KNOW IT'S ANXIETY, YOU ASS. WHY CAN'T YOU FUCKING FIX IT?
WHY AREN'T THOSE SLEEPING AIDS WORKING? WHY ARENT THE ANXIETY PILLS WORKING? FUCKIG OLD SCHOOL MILK ISN'T WORKING EITHER? WHY ISN'T 4 PILLS OF VALIUMS WORKING? (Uhhuh. I've resorted to 4 pills of valiums and am not planning on taking more than that.)
Why can't I get a good night sleep especially on a long day when every muscle and tendon is aching?
Why do I have to twist and turn, with eyes closed, from 11pm to 4am... and get to sleep at 5am. Especially when school starts at 7! (Fucker!)
I'm getting tired of this.
Everyone else is. Everyone is getting tired of this putangfuckinginang malady called insomnia.
Macci's insomnia. The one that makes her eccentric. IT'S NOT COOL MGA TANGINA. Why do people claim that they have one when none of them knows the half the sufferance you get from actually having one?
And most of all.. why am I so PMS-y?
Thursday, January 1, 2009
For the longest time, I've forgotten how it feels to irrationally be in a bad mood. To not have enough civility to even strike a pretend-smile.
Thank you 2009.
I'm still not in the mood. And what makes it worse is I'm jotting it down for records sake... the first of my 2009 post, just after the pretty 2008-ender.
Fuck. Fuckity fuck.
It is undoubtedly easier to ask for an apology for somethig you did not do than to ask one for social faux pas that you are very much guilty of.
When you do not have the courage to say sorry, then it must very much mean that the offence is yours to begin with.
Pride is a bitch. And so is everyone aged 15 and above.
"Bitch." You know that I'm 'wrong' but I meant it. Crispy, in a whisper, but crystal clear... "Bitch".
Without a period. Not worth of a capitalized first letter.
...You know that we don't do that because of the overflowing we love we have for each other. It's even this close to unimaginable.
I want to say sorry. But I still hate you.
Breathe in, breathe out.
And until I cool off and until my pride has detoriorated itself. Sigh.
Just as something I've learned from somewhere states...
"Don't let it ruin your day."
I already pretty much have.
I want to draft this due to its extremely negative contents, but it's refreshing for the audience...so there we go.