I think I will be the kind of girl who doesn’t have many boyfriends. I think because I take things slow and I’m scared of getting hurt that I’ll be the kind of person who only dates if I think I could see myself marrying him/having a future with him. I know that pretty much guarantees that I will be lonely for a long time, maybe even always, and I know that my expectations are probably too high but it’s better not to expect anything if it won’t last, or even start at all.

from Tumblr

His Reply

So the day before my birthday, I shared an article of a letter written by someone I swear is my soul sister. And then today, while I was browsing through Tumblr, I found this. It was like his reply to that letter, a reply to all my doubts and frustrations and loneliness. Oh gawd, he's real somewhere. I just know it.


Dear You,

I will admit that it came as a surprise to me when you decided to write a letter such as this. I always thought you were the type to keep things to yourself—one of the many things that keep us apart until now.

There is a part of every boy’s heart that dreams of his princess. However, no matter what the age, this princess does not change.

Nineteen years into this life, and although your unwillingness to give your heart away is what troubles you, what troubles me is how willing I am each and every time to give my complete heart and yet there is no one to receive anything of me.

Try as I might to give my heart to someone I had imagined was perfect, and I end up putting the pieces back together, mustering the courage to make it seems like nothing is wrong and nothing has been lost, when in fact, everything in my life at that point feels otherwise.

Although I have only known you for a few years, I am as confident as a man in love can be, that you are the perfect girl I have been thinking of ever since. Nineteen years into this life, and we are both still apparently waiting… for someone to be swept off her feet, and for someone to sweep you off yours. And yet, here we are closer to each other than you would expect.

I am sorry I took this long. But, I hope you know, it has not been entirely easy, trying to whisk you off to my palace on horseback. I am not alone in this pursuit of your love and I have no palace to show you in comparison to the many other men who will try to win your heart. You have not been entirely cooperative as well, but I do not blame you for this. In fact, it’s just one of the many quirks that sets you apart from other girls out there.

You will be disappointed to know that it has not been such a fairytale - meeting me, and for this I will be eternally sorry. I hope you know guys spend more than enough time trying to come up with the perfect introduction, what with sweaty palms and a shaky voice. As to the extreme disappointment I may cause you, I also hope you know that you are still as perfect in my eyes as always. I may not have begun it as a fairytale for us, but I will go through leaps and bounds to make you feel like the princess that you are.

Your eccentricities are what I love about you. Even during your occasional mood swings, it is the most endearing thing to see you shift gears. Although I must admit, sometimes it can be quite confusing; keeping me on my toes, it just makes me want to be with you even more. I want to be the man you stand beside at your best and your worst—because either way, you are still too beautiful, and I would be nothing less than the luckiest guy in town if you were just as happy as I was, standing beside you.

You are and will always be my best friend, even if one day I end up finding no more shirts because you have borrowed them all. And when you return them I end up not wearing them, still, because the scent is there to remind me of you even when you are not around. You are my best friend because you look out for me, after a stressful day, or after we lose a game of basketball. Even during times when you refuse to speak to anyone, me included—you are still my best friend.

You will be the girl I try so hard to cook for, and despite my best efforts I know I will fail, but I will love how you will try to taste my concoctions, even when the taste might make you cringe. You will be the girl whose mom I will try so hard to impress, and then you will fix my collar in hopes that I am ready to meet your parents. Adventure after adventure, you will be the girl I will see the world with, complete with the local cuisine taste and souvenir shots.

You are the girl I will smile to even in the worst of times. Even when the day feels like s__t, I know that when I see you that my world cannot be so bad if you are beside me. You are the girl whose smile I will wake up to, even when some mornings might find me with a slight case of morning breath. I cannot wait to love you.

Fingers crossed and palms held together, I hope one day you will find me worthy of your heart. In the meantime, know that I am out here somewhere, waiting for you, hoping that you will be mine.

Loving you forever and a day,
Me


P.S.
Thank you again, Sir Walter Raleigh.

The Passionate Maiden to Her Future Love

I am not the last person in the world waiting for the man of her dreams. So I shouldn't act like I am the most hopeless thing to ever set foot on land.

Here's an article from Philippine Daily Inquirer that just rekindled my soul:


My daughter’s letter to the man she will love someday
By Cathy Babao-Guballa


RELATIONSHIPS ARE always a difficult terrain to navigate.

As a woman, you spend hours pondering—alone or with your girl friends—the intricacies of the human heart. You always hope and pray that the next generation will get it better than you did.

Below is a letter I found in my daughter’s website (I have her permission to share this). She wrote it to “the man I will someday love.”

I was expecting to read a gushing, romantic, idealistic tome. I was humbled instead by her sentiments. It’s filled with sensible expectations.

I pray that this will make every girl believe that hope does spring eternal, and even if your heart has been broken a few times, you can always put the pieces back together, and make it right the next time around.

Take your time. Don’t rush and don’t just “settle.” If it’s part of His plan, God’s best awaits you out there.

Letter

Dear You,

I will admit that sometimes I really do wonder if you exist.

There is a part of every little girl’s heart that envisions her prince charming. At age three, it is usually of a man who can save her from the wrath of an evil stepmother, wake her from eternal slumber or give her that true love’s kiss.

In elementary school, he becomes the boy with the least cooties, the one who’s willing to cross the playground to share his Oreos even if it makes him a target for the week of all the other boys.

Come high school, it’s that boy you stand with at prom, who your father stared down at the door, who provided you with an experience complete with photos you will cringe at a decade later, a corsage that yellows in the refrigerator, and a faded memory of a night that seemed almost too magical to be real.

Nineteen years into this life, however, and still unwilling to give my heart away, I am still that same little girl who hopes for her prince charming. And although I wonder why it has taken you this long to sweep me off my feet and whisk me off to your palace on horseback, I know that it is probably because meeting you will be better than any fairytale I could’ve read as a kid.

A couple of heartbreaks and a few years wiser though, I will admit that there are times when I question your existence. Because I have yet to meet the guy who makes me hear songs like “All My Life” or “A Whole New World” in my head when I see him does not mean I don’t hope that it’ll ever happen.

I may already know you or may still meet you someday—something I leave completely up to God because I’m pretty sure our story will be epic.

However, I can’t promise you that I’d make the world’s most perfect princess. In fact I’ll probably keep you on your toes and amuse you with my eccentricities—there are a lot of them. I’ll probably steal a bunch of your T-shirts and turn them into shirt dresses, or drive you slightly mad with my obsessive compulsivity and my need to fix your collar constantly.

I can promise to be your best friend however—that person you can rant to after a rough day, the hand you can hold when you get sad, or the person you can text when situations get awkward.

I’ll probably mess up your hair sometimes and hug you for too long, but that’ll only be because I absolutely adore you. I’ll bury my head in your shoulder during scary movies and make you feel like superman when you kill those flying cockroaches that really shouldn’t exist. I’ll cook your favorite food on your birthday and try my best to make friends with your mom.

I’ll respect your nights-out with the boys and make you seem like the perfect guy to my barkada. I’ll watch basketball or soccer games with you, and not complain when you cheer too loudly at the TV set.

I’ll know the difference between giving you space and being constantly there for you—even if it means sitting and playing video games with you or taking hot chocolate runs when it rains.

I’ll listen to your music and we’ll go on epic adventures together—seeing the world, taking awesome pictures, eating awesome food, and never running out of things to tell each other along the way.

I won’t be waiting for you to sweep me off my feet and take me on a magic carpet ride, because I know I won’t need anything like that to fall for you—I will love you for you.

You will be that someone to make goofy faces with in pictures, to lace fingers with when I’m lonely, and to take long walks under the stars with on the beach.

You’ll be the guy who takes me the way I am—and will laugh as I burst into Disney song or pick out pink wallpaper.

You’ll be that someone I envision a future with—us filling out visa forms as we travel the universe, picking out our first dog together and arguing about what to name it, or being snap-happy stage parents in our preschooler’s annual mini-plays. And I keep hoping that maybe someday when we find each other, you will become that someone whose smile I wake up to in the morning and the last one I speak to every night.

So to the man I know does exist, and who will help me maybe make sense of the world someday, this man I can’t wait to love. Please know that I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you. But for now, I wait. Fingers crossed and palms held together, I hope that you’re out there somewhere, waiting for me, too.

With the hope I will be yours for always,

Me


P.S.
Thank you, Sir Walter Raleigh for giving me the idea.

I am Woman

I Am Woman (SATC 2 version)

I am woman, hear me roar
In numbers too big to ignore
And I know too much to go back an' pretend
'Cause I've heard it all before
And I've been down there on the floor
No one's ever gonna keep me down again

Oh yes, I am wise
But it's wisdom born of pain
Yes, I've paid the price
But look how much I gained
If I have to
I can do anything
I am strong (strong)
I am invincible (invincible)
I am woman

You can bend but never break me
'Cause it only serves to make me
More determined to achieve my final goal
And I come back even stronger
Not a novice any longer
'Cause you've deepened the conviction in my soul

Oh, yes, I am wise
But it's wisdom born of pain
Yes, I've paid the price
But look how much I gained
If I have to
I can face anything
I am strong (strong)
I am invincible (invincible)
I am woman

I am woman watch me grow
See me standing toe to toe
As I spread my lovin' arms across the land
But I'm still an embryo
With a long, long way to go
Until I make my brother understand

Oh, yes, I am wise
But it's wisdom born of pain
Yes, I've paid the price
But look how much I gained
If I have to
I can face anything
I am strong (strong)
I am invincible (invincible)
I am woman

Oh, I am woman
I am invincible
I am strong

I am woman
I am invincible
I am strong
I am woman





This is the song I was talking about in my article. :)

I just changed the name of this blog...

Girls are taught a lot of stuff growing up. If a guy punches you he likes you. Never try to trim your own bangs and someday you will meet a wonderful guy and get your very own happy ending. Every movie we see, Every story we’re told implores us to wait for it, the third act twist, the unexpected declaration of love, the exception to the rule. But sometimes we’re so focused on finding our happy ending we don’t learn how to read the signs. How to tell from the ones who want us and the ones who don’t, the ones who will stay and the ones who will leave. And maybe a happy ending doesn’t include a guy, maybe… it’s you, on your own, picking up the pieces and starting over, freeing yourself up for something better in the future. Maybe the happy ending is… just… moving on. Or maybe the happy ending is this, knowing after all the unreturned phone calls, broken-hearts, through the blunders and misread signals, through all the pain and embarrassment you never gave up hope.

-He's Just Not That Into You

...because there's more to life than counting down the days until I meet him.

Re-finding Neverland

Where the white sands and the coral
Kiss the dark blue Southern Seas

Penelope’s first ever class in her first year in college was at Com Room 1, Guy Hall. It is one of the classrooms in the whole university where someone can get the best view of the Visayan sea. Penelope’s afternoon classes in that room would often get interrupted for a couple of seconds by the loud sound of a ship telling everyone that it’s about to leave. But she doesn’t mind. The noise had become music to her ears. She also loved looking outside the window of that classroom because whenever she does she is reminded of the reason why she decided to spend her four years of college in Silliman in the first place.

And the palm trees tall and stately
Wave their branches in the breeze

Sometimes when there was nothing to do, Penelope remembers laying for hours with her friends underneath the trees near the president’s house, feeling the newly-mowed grass on their hands, the wind brushing softly on their cheeks. They would just stay there, talking about hopes and dreams and problems and love until the evening mosquitoes begin to bite them, and no one would tell them to leave. Some other times when she’s alone waiting for her class to start, she would read the words written by students on the green benches located at the same area and make up stories behind them.

Stands a college we all honor,
In our hearts without a peer

Silliman was always a part of Penelope’s favorite childhood tales. Some of her uncles and aunts have also had their chance to enjoy the beauty of the campus during their time and they would often share what they recall of that beauty with her. The Neverland of carefree people was what she thought Silliman was back then. She loved the place way before she was able to set foot on its land.

Silliman, our Alma Mater,
Ever lovely, ever dear.

Penelope is now on her fourth year and she couldn’t help but wonder these days. What has happened to her dear old university—her Neverland?

With the new regulations and changes set before the students, every Sillimanian’s right to freely express his or her self, as well as the unique artistic and laidback feel of the university, has been put at the pedestal. And Penelope worries a lot about this. There are plans of transferring her college to another building away from the fresh breeze of the sea. The benches near the president’s home have already been taken out. There are now certain areas restricted to playing Frisbee, one of the much-loved sports of Sillimanians. The Freedom Wall has recently been painted plain. New buildings are sprouting in some places, taking the space that could have been used for more Acacia trees and Gumamelas. Penelope can’t even go to her major classes wearing only shorts and slippers, a fact that she used to brag about to her friends from highschool.

And so Penelope begins to wonder--what went wrong? Maybe it’s because of the transition of time, or change of interests and development of technology, or maybe it’s because of the growing population that grounds to having a few changes in infrastructure and policies, that’s why the Silliman before is heaps away from the Silliman right now.

If students would just spend more time jamming along to old school songs at the amphitheater instead of drinking vodka at secret spots until the wee hours of the morning, if students would just kill the apathy on relevant issues and talk less of their recent test results, then Silliman could still become the beautiful Boho sanctuary that it was.

Let go.

No matter how much he keeps you expecting and no matter how much you love the idea of you and him together, the cheesy things you daydream about will never happen if there’s always going to be another girl better than you. To him, you’re just the one he’ll wonder where to place in his perfect, perfect life. His second friggin choice and that’s all you’ll ever be. Forget the fact that you got him first. She’s smarter, prettier, awesome-er than you.

She’s way too better, so obviously he chose her. Yet he still does things that make it impossible for you to hate him. That’s the thing about him, you think. He just doesn’t know what he wants. He is with this girl yet he keeps giving you the hope that he also likes you.

Why can’t he just leave you alone, right? Why does he have to keep you hoping when he’s already with someone else?

And after all the thinking, finally, now you realize something about him. He’s selfish, he’s a jerk and, hey, you’ve been right all along: he’s just not man enough to fill the spot of the guy you’ve been waiting for all your life.

So let go. You’ve already wasted almost your whole college life for him.

Obscured dreams

If you asked me before if there is one thing that I am most certain about in my life, I probably would have said that it’s my course.

I still remember that moment when I knew I wanted to be a Journalist. It was when I first realized that writing is my passion. And writing is a passion that started way back during that time when I first learned the function of a pencil. HAHA. I'm sounding like Rachel Berry right now.

Anyways. When I was three, I was already writing these so-called love letters. By the time I was six, I was already constantly curling myself up on the corner of our house and making my Journal listen to the things that I couldn’t possibly tell anyone else.

Language and Writing have always been my favorite subjects in the world. I was always that girl who had the highest score in random writing activities. The girl who was always sent to represent whenever there was a student press competition or a nearby shindig of some sort for student writers.

Choosing my degree in college wasn’t much of a biggie at all. I didn’t even have to bother consider other courses in the university because ticking that box beside Bachelor of Mass Communication was enough for me to picture out my whole life in college.

The thing is that I’d die by the mere sight of blood and everyone who knows me even from afar could tell that I barely know how to place the x and y axes in a graph. So yeah. The whole point is that writing, it seems, is the only thing I’m good at. And to tell you honestly, I cannot imagine myself ever doing anything else in life.

But if you ask me again about that one thing I am most certain about, I’d say I’m not so sure anymore.


Now that I am having a little taste of what I’ve always wanted, I tell you, nothing seems to go right. This internship really is making me doubt something that I used to be so sure of. What I thought would just be an extension of what I do for the Weekly Sillimanian or ma’am Acedo’s class turned out to be something more than I could fathom.

This is the real deal where hunting for news becomes more terrifying now that competition is always around. Where the people who are needed to be interviewed are ruthless and intimidating. Where the place for interview is not just one pedicab ride away and making a complete story takes more than just one day. Where editors are not to be ignored but pleased.

Right now all my hopes and dreams have become obscured. How can I manage to be what I want when I can’t even ace my internship? I hate to admit this but right now all I really wish is that I could just spend all my life Facebooking and watching YouTube covers of my favorite bands. Right now I wish that I could forever stay young and carefree, just dreaming about my future and not actually starting to live it.

But then again, at some point in the remaining days of my college life, I would have to realize that updating my status in Facebook every three minutes and posting pretty pictures in Tumblr will never get me to the dreams I’ve set for myself. At some point I would have to grow up and start planning for my future. I have come to this part of my life as a student where every single day matters, where every single day is an opportunity to make my resume a little more appealing.

Even though on a regular basis the only thing that comes out of my mouth is very superficial, I do have dreams bigger than defeating an evil witch and being carried away by a handsome prince to a faraway land. I have dreams that include making a name for myself, proving wrong the people who have doubted me and giving back to my family who have sacrificed far more than anyone I know.

But again, the problem now is that I am not so sure about my plans anymore.

Oh gosh.

Changing

After all these months, all this time, so much has happened. The talks, the phone calls, the laughs, the feelings. If I were to look back, I would never believe that that person was once me. I wouldn’t recognize that girl because she’s so different from who I am now. But I guess changing and moving on is part of growing up. I’m growing up and finding out what kind of person I want to be for the rest of my life. And maybe in the future, more changes will come, but as for right now, this is who I’m proud to be.

Some things don’t last for ever, but some things do. Like a good song, or a good book, or a good memory you can take out and unfold in your darkest times, pressing down the corners and peering in close, hoping you still recognise the person you see there.

-This Lullaby, Sarah Dessen

To my Daddy Gordy

THANK YOU.

For the exciting election your automated system has provided. For making me see that there still are people in politics who are actually there not because they are forced to continue his or her family's legacy or because he or she wants to earn more than what's supposed to be earned. But most of all, for believing in me and the millions of youth all over this country--for believing that we are the real instruments of Bagumbayan.

In my heart, you still are the rightful president of the Philippines. In my heart, you'll always be my president.

I know that the fight does not end here.
And don't worry. I'll continue fighting with you.

GOD BLESS YOU, Daddy Gordy.
:)

Oh Sara Bee.

When are you coming over to the Philippines? When will I ever get to meet you and your awesomeness???



I LOVE YOU SARA BEE. YOU'RE MADE OF PURE AWESOMENESS.


Love,
Your Greatest Fan

Hair

Of course a girl’s hair is her crowning glory. On a typical day, she could have her tummy burst out of her blouse from a very big lunch and still feel beautiful as long as her hair is. That’s why they call it Bad Hair Day, not Bad Skin Day or Bad Breath Day, when someone wakes up one morning and looks at herself in the mirror and sees something wrong and feels very much uglaaay for the rest of the day, because it is the hair, depending on its condition, that affects the disposition of a person.

When I was a kid, my dad would sometimes steal away my precious time that I was supposed to use enjoying my childhood. He would make me sit in front of him and with a comb on his hand I always knew what he would do next. I hated those times because untangling that excruciating mess also known as my hair was worse than ten boosters or ear piercings (well, I was exaggerating but you got the idea).“You have to comb your hair all the time so that the natural oil will come out,” he used to tell me. When I look at my six year old self in the photos, I realize how beautiful my hair had really been. Oh gosh, if only I listened to my dad, I’d think to myself. But since I did not listen--I did not take care of my beautiful hair that not all girls my age had—my dad eventually gave up on me.

One day he took me to a beauty shop where I lost my pretty, pretty hair. My hair was cut so short that when I left the place, this one lady looked at me and I swear she must have thought I looked like a boy on girls’ clothes. I did not cry on our way home. I just kept looking at myself in the side mirror of our car thinking about how I’ve never seen anything so ugly in my life.

I lost my confidence because of that. During the years while I tried to grow back my hair, I couldn’t use all these pretty, colorful hair accessories like my friends did and I couldn’t join princess games and pretend to be a princess anymore because, as my friends have often pointed out, princesses always have long hair. I felt so left out. Oh, it was really terrible.

When my hair grew back, it no longer was the super straight, glossy hair that it used to be. It became very unruly and frizzy and sometimes on really terrible days, bushy. I swear it was like Hermione Granger’s hair—not Emma Watson’s in the movie but, really, the real Hermione Granger’s.

I wish I could hate my dad because of what he has done to my hair but the thing is that I realized that the unfortunate fate of my hair was because of my own doing. Had I listened to him and had been persistent enough to grab a hairbrush and use it when my hair was beginning to make tangles and all that, then my dad never would have decided to give me a lesson.

When I entered highschool, I decided that it was time to do something with my hair. I needed to get rid of the ugliness that I am each day forced to carry on top of my head everywhere I go. I wrote a 4-page letter to my mom explaining to her how sick I am of being ugly and that, well, I no longer will feel ugly if they do something about my hair. That’s when she decided to have my hair rebonded. I think my parents have had countless of arguments because of that decision my mom made, considering that that was a long time ago and this artificially straightening your hair method called rebonding was still just becoming popular because of one shampoo commercial and it cost at around Php 6,000, and also considering that I was in a really expensive school...well yeah, the point is that they had a lot of arguments. Right now I can totally say that I’ve been selfish that time but back then, I was really just desperate that I would do whatever it takes to get rid of my bushy hair. Anyway, my mom won and I had my hair rebonded, which I tell you, was really worth it. When I sported my new look in school, people were all suddenly complimenting me. Even my ultimate high school crush, who often made fun of me, became flattering.

It definitely brought back the confidence that I’ve lost for a very long time. My hair stayed artificially beautiful for a while. However, I’ve been told that rebonding my hair could cause severe damage and I did not believe it until, in time, it happened to me. Breakages and split ends appeared that I had to say goodbye to my 6,000-peso chemical-coated hair and cut it.

I’m just glad, though, that even if my hair never really turned back to its shape when I was six, at least it also never turned back to its shape when I was thirteen. My hair still sometimes is unruly but at least it never again is bushy.
To date, I must say I have done all kinds of things to my hair already. In college alone I think I’ve worn my hair straight, curly, short and long.

Every girl in this world probably has this one part of her body that she obsesses about. As for me, my hair—after all that we’ve been through—has now become that one obsession. Without a doubt, I’ve spent the most bucks on it, regularly giving it treatments and changing its style every now and then. Like for the recent months, it’s become a ritual for me not to leave the house without ironing my hair first. As in since I received the hair iron for my birthday, I’ve never left the house without using it—even if my destination was the beach or if I’d just be gone for a few minutes to return something I borrowed from a neighbor.

The obsession has probably paved way for my developing narcissistic habits. But again, let me just say this: I really do believe that no matter how much wrong things you see in the rest of your body, if your hair is looking its best, then everything would be alright. I can forget about my blemishes and huge thighs as long as my hair is tamed to perfection. Not many people get it, I know. They wouldn’t understand because they have not been in my shoes. They’ve had lives filled with memories that don’t include being laughed at for looking like a boy or Hermione Granger. Pretty hair has become my obsession—my frustration—because I’ve spent far too awful years not having one. And now I’m just making up for all those years I’ve lost.

Are you real?

He is so cute, so exactly like the image of what you think a boyfriend should be when you are nine or ten years old—what you think your own boyfriend will be, your birthright—that he breaks your heart a little. She hardly knows him (maybe he isn’t that great), but it’s still unfair that only some girls grow up to get boys like this.

-Hannah Gavener from The Man of my Dreams by Curtis Sittenfeld

Someone asked me in my Forsmpring which book last made me cry. I recently finished Bridget Jones, yes the mother of all modern chic lit, and did not enjoy it at all. I did not relate to Bridget as I expected I would, I did not cry by the end of novel as I thought I would. Maybe it’s because although like Bridget I am also sick of being single and just like her I also rant nonstop about how alone I feel, she was very much cynic. And if you’re someone who knows me even from afar, that is one thing I will never ever become. If Harry Potter had a counterpoint in the world of Hopeless Romantics, it would probably be me.

So, no. Bridget Jones wasn’t the last book to make me cry. It was The Man of my Dreams.

I bought the book in Booksale for only P50. I remember screaming with excitement the moment I saw it. I’ve been eyeing on the one and only copy of it at National Bookstore and when I finally decided to buy this copy, I was told that somebody went ahead of me already. Frustrated, I went home to Cebu one weekend and I hurriedly went to Fully Booked only to find out that there were no more copies available as well. I asked my tita from the US if she could send me a copy of it and then she kept sending me books that were anything but the one I want. Eventually, I let it go. So anyway, despite the little girl who was beside me, almost teary-eyed from the fright of my sight screaming over a book, I continued with my enthusiasm. The book was meant for me, after all.

I spent one Saturday reading this book, stopping only to highlight my favorite parts. You know the feeling when you get so attached to something you’ve been reading or watching that you feel like it wasn’t just a book or a movie or a TV Show? You feel as if it was your very own life right there printed on pages of paper or there shrunk to fit the box of entertainment. So what if that something turns out to have a bad ending? Or at least, an ending that you don’t like?

I didn’t like the ending of the Man of my Dreams. Simply because Hannah, the heroine of the story, did not end up with, well, the Man of her Dreams. Oh come on, stop looking at me like that. I’m pretty predictable when it comes to things like this. Heehee. ;)

I mean, of course I’d love for her to get what she wants. But considering that she didn’t, and considering how attached I was to the story, it made me kind of fear what my own life’s ending would be like. I’ve been living with the idea that although things are always tough for me right now, in the end I’d still get the Happy Ending I rightfully deserve. And my dream Happy Ending is something that comes straight out of a Fairy Tale book.

But what if Fairy Tales—Happy Endings—really are just some bullshark that Walt Disney purposely fed on girls like me, so that we would be susceptible enough for the society to use up until we’re all dull and filthy?

What if The Man of my Dreams never does exist? Frankly, what I fear most about my future relationships is that I might engage into them with guys whom I’m just settling for. I fear that because of my very high expectations, I will never be contented enough to realize that I have found The One. I probably will keep comparing these guys to my poster guy and think how much they’re not qualified enough to live up to my expectations. They’re always going to be too immature, too serious, too lazy, too hardworking, too short, too tall. Now, I wouldn’t want that to happen because that’s really unfair for them who I’m sure are all going to be amazing.

Oh gawd. I need intervention. :(

My favorite song at the moment.

They're two lovers in the night
Waiting on the sun to rise
Passing ships into the night
Under different skies

But you just whisper what you said
One last time
I could have sworn I heard you say
That you are mine

Faded flowers in your hand
The best that I could do
It's the only way I've had
Of reaching you

I never saw it like you did
Didn't know that it was there
You don't see it in your hand
Until the end

Be the one and only, wait for me
Will you be the only one
Will you be, be the one and only
Wait for me, will you be the only one

What if I knew how to yell
What would I pray
What if I knew how to tell
What would I say

I will be the only one
If you say you'll never go
I'll be screaming out your name
From the back row

Be the one and only, wait for me
Will you be the only one
Will you be, be the one and only
Wait for me; let me be your only one

Random toughts about Him and Me. Him and Her. Him.

And then the girl happened. And somehow, the girl made pass what I have done to make him like me. And even though it hurts me to see my fear coming true right now, I still keep hoping that even if he loves her, maybe he still has (not that he ever had) even the tiniest of feelings for me too. It’s so pointless to keep hoping and waiting for him. But I just can’t let go. Because he is everything I have ever hoped for. Too bad he just couldn’t see that. Too bad he couldn't realize that. Not that I’m blaming him. Maybe it just never was meant to be. And I have been so wrong all along. And yet he still looks at me like he wants to tell me something.

Oh make me stop please.

I was The Purple Ink Spoiler Before I Became Virgiliadoracion.

Yes, I had a different identity before I became the Prince Charming-obsessed person that I am today.

Well, it’s not exactly a different identity but just a different pen name. But still, when you’re a writer, your pen name embodies the type of writer—the type of person—that you are. When you’re a writer, your pen name is your identity.

Back when I was in highschool, I was a feature writer for our school paper and because we were required to use a pen name and because of a lack of ideas for a very cool one, I resorted to being the Purple Ink Spoiler. So lame, I know.

I know you’ve been wondering how I became Virgiliadoracion. I got that from my second name Virda which was taken from the names of my grandmothers Virgilia and Adoracion. I love that I was named after two of the greatest women I’ve ever known. But then again, my second name sounds so…so…Birdy. Whatever that means.

Anyways, when I entered college, I ran out of Purple Ink (not literally, of course) and finally embraced the awesome and chirpy Virda me.

I just remembered that this blog Counting Down the Days Until I Meet Him has turned one already. I still remember that time when I locked myself inside my room for one day after discovering that my first blog account has been hacked. Completely hacked and lost all my posts. I guess that was also one of the reasons why I had to say goodbye to the Purple Ink Spoiler. She only will make me remember my beloved first blog. I had to let go and reinvent myself. And now Virgiliadoracion is one! I can’t believe how fast we’re heading towards 2012! OH NO (I was being sarcastic, puhleez, I don’t believe in that bullshark of a theory, and by the way, the movie was such a waste of time…HEE).

But I have to admit that I do miss the Purple Ink Spoiler. So in memory of her, the budding hopeless romantic who was eventually going to become the Queen of Hopeless Romantics, I’m going to post one of her poems I found laying around my long-forgotten treasures.

I think this was written when I was in first year highschool. Notice the rhymes of the poem. And the words that were obviously right-clicked in Microsoft Word. It’s so, so FTW! Hahaha.

All Because of That Stare
by The Purple Ink Spoiler

I look at you, you look at me
Something is not right, everyone can see
So here I go pretending like I don’t care
But truth is, I don’t know: maybe I’m falling back in-love, all because of that stare.

I have to act like nothing about you matters
But the sight of you within me never , ever alters
I have to make myself believe that you can never be for me
But when you give me just one smile, it’s only you that I see.

How many times have I slapped my face?
To turn to reality and not let myself linger upon the days?—
When you say there can never be another person but me for you,
When you say that your love for me is true.

Every single moment when I see you with her,
It is the awful things that I immediately remember,
But when I’d catch you looking from afar,
It’s like you’re telling me that you haven’t healed that scar.

Why do you keep doing this to me?
With her beside you, you should be happy.
I have already accepted long ago that it’s over,
But now I need to conceal beneath the cover,
So that you won’t see the hurt I’m going through,
All because of the confusion I feel from the stares I get from you.

You once told me that setting me free would be what’s best
So I gave you a smile and turned around, with a profound burden on my chest.
It wasn’t easy to understand what you have done
But eventually I learned to accept that I was never the one.

So in time I went on with my life
And I was glad because after you, I rarely dealt with strife
I made the most out of what I can do
And started finding that bit which is true.

And then one day you came back
I wasn’t prepared, and I divulge that was what I lack
All that used to be came drifting to me once more
And it shocked me since I thought I have totally closed my door.

But mustering all the courage that I have over time reclaimed,
While enlightening myself that I shouldn’t be blamed:
Here I am, telling you that it is too late for us to ever be together again,
And that all you can do is hold on to her ‘til God knows when.
I have to admit that it pains me a lot to say this,
But if I keep tolerating my feelings life can never be bliss.

I should do what’s right,
For no matter what I do I will never win the fight.
Because I have let you go a long time ago,
And actually, you just no longer are the person that I used to know.

THIS POEM IS DEFINITELY FICTION!
Okay, with bits from my own experiences.
Haha.


Thanks for taking the time to visit my blog, whoever you are.
Here's to more years of blogging.
:)

I vow not to join any more sites because the world wide web is not safe anymore.

Well anyway. It's not like I have stalkers, right? HAHA.





Ask me now in my Formspring.


You can also visit my Tumblr.

and my Twitter.

and also my Facebook.

Oh yeah. Here's my music network site. Mixpod.

And my Polyvore.


HAHA. :)

Best Friend.

If it’s possible to end relationships with boyfriends, then is it also possible to end relationships with best friends?

Yeah, just a random question that popped out of nowhere while I was rummaging through my college stuff this morning. I saw her letters. I saw her pictures. I saw many things that only remind me of her and the things we’ve been through together. I look at these things and feel too much things. Anger, probably. Pity, maybe. Nostalgia, even.

Of course I have not forgotten that I left Dumaguete many weeks ago without settling one heck of a problem with one of my closest friends ever.

I left feeling like the meanest person in the world. She did not even do anything to me—she was just being herself. And there I was treating her like shit.

Yes, I admit I’ve been harsh and completely unfair for the last few weeks of second semester and even for the years I’ve known her. I know that. Despite the fact that she has always been that person who’s capable of running on her high heels from guy hall to our dorm the moment I call her and tell her I’m sick and can’t get out of bed or something. That she’s my punching bag--the only witness to that other side of me I can’t show other people. That she is my, and I quote from a person I know, “Number one fan” (rarr). My non-fictional Samwise. The only person who doesn’t make me feel bad that I still don’t have a boyfriend. So despite all these things, how could I be so mean to her?

It’s because maybe for me she acts too immature. I guess I don’t have all the patience in the world to always have to deal with that. I mean, just like her and any other person in the brink of his or her college life, I have these pressures coming from school work and other co-curricular activities, as well as from my family enough to make me go insane. I don’t need her to add up to my problems. Many times I’ve tried to tell her what I think but every time I do, she only looks at me, not really hearing what I say, probably refusing to hear what I say.

This isn’t about me. Heck, I am not ranting right now because I hate having her burden my entire college life. I do love having her around and although sometimes she is irritating with her ways that remind me of my seven year old cousin, she is my friend and I care so much for her that’s why I need to let this out. For the nth time, here I am saying I want her to do what I’ve always wanted her to do: change. And the reason why I want her to do that is because life can’t always be as fun. Soon, we will be graduating and she would have to work just like everyone else and she would have to meet other people. And she can’t forever keep making these people understand. She can’t forever find a friend who can put up with all her ways. Let’s face it: People outside are harsh—harsher than me, no doubt.

The alarming thing is that because she’s too immature for her age, she appears too vulnerable to others. Because of that, people think that she’s very easy to be bossed around and taken advantage of. I sometimes think this is that one reason why she always finds herself in messes too unbelievable for an outsider to, well, believe.
I also think this is also the reason behind one of her never-ending complaints. She keeps complaining that people keep talking behind her back. Frankly, I think that backbiting is something that we can’t banish of its existence in the world—something that we just can’t delete into every person’s system. The truth is that all of us backbite a lot. What, don’t tell me she never does it? We’re close enough to know that she does it too.

But if you think about it, if people don’t see anything wrong with a person, then no negative comments will come out in the first place. Except people see something in her, and that’s the problem. Almost all people she has encountered here in college that I get the chance to talk with have something negative to say about her. For one, the people from both her previous and current dormitories have all these negative things to say that I so am just sick of hearing—just the same old complaints about her immaturity. But the thing is that when people talk behind our backs, we can’t just put all the blame on them for doing so. Of course we have the right to hate them for quite some time but we must eventually move on with the bitterness and start reflecting on our very own actions. We must eventually understand that there might be a pretty good reason why they are saying all these things.

I know that of all people, I should be the one to understand her. I know most of her problems and I am most familiar with her background. I know for a fact that she’s an only child and that’s a probable reason for her to be sometimes reliant on others. But I know a lot of only childs and they are as independent and as mature as can be. Maybe what she needs to do first is toughen up. Okay. I’m not exactly poster child for toughness and you know what? That’s exactly the reason why I’m suggesting this to her. She’s too much a good person to ever have to go through the things I have gone through because of my sensitivity. I’m saying out of my own unfortunate experiences that she can’t forever wait it out for each problem she encounters to pass by because strong people do action and not sulking. She can’t forever cry on her bed when she hears people talking behind her back. She can’t forever run to people when she’s frustrated with something. For all she knows, the people she runs to may have something bad to say about her as well.

So anyway. It’s given that I am maldita especially when it comes to her but I ask her, is she not maldita with me too? She keeps telling people about my treatment with her while missing out on that detail of her also fighting back. So don’t tell me I’m being unfair. Quits lang.

She’s not really thinking that there must be a reason why I only act like this when I’m with her. I mean, I don’t do with my other friends the same thing I do with her. It’s not that I’m taking advantage of her just because I have a stronger personality and all. No, it’s not that. It’s that I’m far from perfect to be able to deal with her and all her ways 24/7. I’ve known people nearby who can’t stand being with her even for an hour so maybe they could try putting themselves in my shoes. She is with me almost all the time and nearly every single time I’m with her, she never fails to test my patience. I guess we all have our own flaws. Mine, really, is that I get irritated quite easily. Hey, I am not so wonderful and I can’t always control my boiling point.

I guess you could say that the solution here, really, is to just avoid each other for good. Our friendship, I should say, is no longer healthy. To tell you honestly, I’ve already tried many times to distance myself—many times I’ve tried avoiding her and many times I’ve tried explaining to her why. But every time I do she acts in odd ways that makes me feel all awful and guilty.

Even though it pains me to let go of all the memories I’ve made with her, I think it’s really just for the best to keep this distance. I will miss her company but at the same time I can’t bear think about what we could still do to each other in the future if we keep hanging out.

I sometimes wonder about the real reason why we became the best of friends in the first place if we have conflicting personalities. And the only answer I could think of is proximity. If she lived in Edith Carson or somewhere else far away from Woodward and that if we weren’t KabSis and if we don’t have the same religion, then I think she’d just be another friend in college.

As much as people would often say that it’s harder to let go of best friends more than boyfriends, I think this will be, I should say as I set free all our pinky swears and the rest of our sisterhood memories, for the best.

Bye, friend. But I hope that despite this, you’d still be one of my bride’s maids when I get married someday and I hope that I still am, too, when you do.

What you think I need to know.

Understanding male university students

I was browsing through my files and I saw this one. I just remembered how bitter I was after I finished writing this article for my Opinion Writing class.



Dota. Kobe Bryant. Rock Music. Gory Movies. Carbohydrates. Calculus. Fraternities. Liquor. FHM.

“What?” whines the girls in chorus. What the heck are those, they ask, completely oblivious as if those mentioned are things that are a million light years away from their own understanding. And then here goes the guys laughing about these girls’ ignorance.

Oh come on, girls. It’s about time to understand them, really.

Well then, enter the world of a Male University Student.

First off, there is a huge difference…not.

“I like movies with bloody scenes, I like punk rock, I like basketball, I like challenging subjects, I like Megan Fox,” a typical male college student would probably say. On the other hand, comes a typical female college student saying, “I like romantic, tear-jerker films, I like pop songs, I like hanging out with my girlfriends, I like caring professors, I like Robert Pattinson.”

A guy is different from a girl just as numbers are different from words. Just as sneakers are different from stilettos. Just as a live coverage of NBA is different from the season finale of Gossip Girl. Just as playing Mafia Wars is different from playing Fashion Wars. Just as Stephen King is different from Meg Cabot. Just as Coldplay is different from the Pussycat Dolls. Yes, there is a huge difference between a guy and a girl—yet they are still the same.

“Girls usually think that just because guys prefer rock music doesn’t mean that we can’t listen to Pop or ballad songs,” says Dave Gabriel Abalos, a freshman Physical Therapy student from Silliman University. “They think that we can’t watch those movies that move them to tears, that we can’t distinguish between Havaianas or Ipanema, that we can’t worship anyone else but Kobe Bryant…well they’re wrong, because we can…sometimes, we are just afraid to admit it.”

A guy’s world is so much the same as a girl’s world. What makes it appear different is that guys tend to keep some things they do secret, to preserve the image that makes them a “man”—you know, competitive, invisible at times, and hard to the core. No sissy-ness please, at least that’s what girls think.

“They have no idea that we run to our mommy and cry like crazy when someone hurts us,” laughs Timothy Te, a junior Nursing student from St. Paul’s University. “They have no idea that behind the tough exterior is one pusong mamon that also falls for cute, cute kids and puppies and butterflies and all that sappy stuff.”

Identifying with each other

The question started way before our ancestors’ ancestors’ time: Why is it so hard for guys and girls to really understand one another?

Simple. It’s because of lack of communication to comprehend each other. Here’s an example: the girl wants affection while the guy wants to be appreciated. The main trouble is that they don’t say anything. They keep assuming that the other would understand—but it doesn’t work like that. It will never work like that.

“I ended a relationship with a guy because we just couldn’t understand each other anymore,” said Anna Maria Felizardo, a sophomore Mass Communication student from Foundation University.

“But lately, I’ve been thinking that we never really talked about our problems…that I never said anything about how I felt and I never really understood his side…now I realize that if only we talked more, then we could have sustained our relationship.”

But when a girl enters a guy’s world…

“Everything else changes,” said Dan Ryan Rejuso, a junior Mechanical Engineering student of Silliman University. “Study becomes so much easier to handle and other problems become bearable…exhaustion after a very long day could no longer be felt.”

Computer games, fraternities, Frisbee, weekend jamming. To a guy, all of that would mean nothing as compared to a girl he loves. Because although a guy could be the Most Valuable Player in his team or be the president of his fraternity, it is still in loving a girl that he excels the most.

It’s true that guys may act indifferent and act like complete Martians at times, but when it comes to fighting for the ones they love, they no doubt find all means—no matter how impossible it could appear to some. That’s the nature of the male species when it comes to love, you see. They fight, they conquer, and they love more than what everyone else believes of them.

But aside from that, they also want to be recognized. They want to be appreciated because it boosts their ego. “What keeps us fighting is the girls’ appreciation of us,” said Rejuso. “It’s more than enough to know that they notice the simple things we do for them.”

The best place to be in during college years

“I’ve had a lot of bad relationships in the past and I keep blaming those guys for it because I thought I was the girl and I shouldn’t be the one to reach out and all,” says Anna Isabella Cortez, a fourth year Accountancy student of Silliman University.

“But then this certain guy appears and he made me realize that guys are no super heroes…that they can’t do everything we expect of them and they are just like us girls who hurt.”

“So we worked together to make our relationship last and now we’ve been together for four years now,” Cortez added.

One of the best things that can ever happen to a girl in college is to be able to enter the right guy’s world and stay there as long as possible.

Imagine a world full of hearts and roses and serenades. A world full of chocolates and hugs and companionship. Doesn’t it just sound like a pretty place to be in?

In Denially Stupid For You

This should explain everything.
Oh gawd I hope you don’t read this.



We were friends back then.

Not exactly close friends—just friends. But we were friends enough for me to open myself up to you. For me to tell you things I don’t usually tell others.

And I sort of liked the idea of us being friends. Of us being just friends.

And then during my sixteenth birthday, things changed. It all started with that code you wrote on the card you and our classmates gave me. After deciphering that code and realizing what that code meant, I began becoming uneasy around you. Thus, the infamous Friendster comments began. When you started being sarcastic on your comments, I understood you. Because I was like that too. But when your sarcasm went overboard, you made me appear like I didn’t care for you. And that hurt me because I did. I really did. It’s just that the level of care that you were probably expecting from me was not the same kind of level of care that I could give you at the time. But you know what? If I just wasn’t hurt, I may have mustered up the courage to ask you to wait. The thing is that I was confused at the time. I was still figuring out how I really felt for you.

But what I really hated about that situation was that it did not have the closure it so badly needed. Have we ever really been able to settle that issue? Neah, I don’t think so. Sure, we were given by our classmates the chance to talk. Remember that night at the lib lobby? Actually, I was so irritated by you that time. Because you weren’t even half as serious as I was. That time, I started doubting if you really were taking me seriously.

Well over time we learned to forget about all that. I still had a few questions I so badly wanted to ask, but I learned to just do away with the fact that some things are just better left unspoken. So although things never went back to the way they were and we started talking personally less and less, at least we were still okay in Friendster and in YM, sometimes even in text messages. I started opening up more things with you again. Especially matters about my family. And you still were the ever amazing listener. You still were the one person who always understood.

And that’s when it hit me. It was all becoming awfully clear to me. I was falling for you.

But the awkwardness—the wall that was built because of what happened some months back—kept me from telling you how I felt. Plus, I was overanalyzing things that time. I kept asking myself:

What if he never really liked me?

What if that code he wrote me did not really mean anything?

What if he was just being as dramatic and emo that’s why he seemed just as hurt in those Friendster comments?

What if that time at the library when he showed his indifference was his way of showing me that all along I was just being an assumer?

What if the real twist of the story is this: that I really was just (ugh, yes, eternally) in denial and I was the one who really had feelings for him so when I first read that code, it signaled like-like from him when it was only just like?

I mean, you never really told me personally that you had feelings for me. But even if what made me conclude that you liked me were all DUHHH circumstances, it could have been better if I heard the words—whatever they were—come straight out of you.

Anyway, when I first heard Marie Digby’s Stupid For You, I was like, OHMYGOSHTHISISEXACTLYWHATISOBAAAAADLYWANTTOTELLHIMRIGHTNOW.

So when you were going all emo on your Friendster posts again, I told you to listen to the song. I told you to listen to the lyrics real close, while I say at the back of my mind something like so that you’ll understand how I really feel .

That was it, I thought. You were finally going to know how I really felt.

When you posted the lyrics on my profile I was thinking that you got the idea already. But as it turns out, you got confused pa. CONFUUUUUSED? Haaaay. I wanted to sapak you talaga that time. I mean, ano baaaaah.

It was supposed to be a secret that only you and I could share. I never told anyone about the truth. I never told anyone except for you. Sure, I’d share some stuff about us with some of our friends, but those were just bits and bits of the big chocolate cake that was my real feelings.

Eventually, I kind of gave up on you. I was hurt because just when I finally understood my feelings, there you were, but you never did—not even said man lang—something. I concluded that I was just carried away by your emo-ness and in time accepted that you really had no feelings for me.

So that summer after our first year, I started liking another guy. Sure, I did like him. But susko, isa pang lechugas yung taong yun. Anyhows. Despite that so-called summer romance I had, you were still there.

Shet, you’ve always been there. Sometimes to listen to my problems. Other times to compete with my sarcasm. And most of the time to make my life more complicated than it already is. But despite all that, yeah. At least you’ve always been there. Prince Charming was never there. But you, you were always there.

So for a moment there, you actually went a notch higher than Prince Charming’s level. Do you realize how much of a big deal that is? No other guy in my eighteen years of existence was able to defeat Prince Charming.

Realizing that paved way for my feelings to come back. For the first time, Prince Charming was out of the picture. You became the Big Picture.

But then something happened. When that summer was about to come to an end, I learned you were shifting to another course. That just completely, devastatingly, heartbreakingly surprised me. I mean, I know you’ve had plans of shifting but I never thought it would be that soon. I remember crying for hours that time. Yes, I was being completely selfish, childish even, for not really considering that you had your reasons. But that time, all I could think about was the idea of you being far away. Of the idea of Us becoming blurred out by different schedules, different groups of friends, different lives.

But I got over that too. I soon got used to not seeing you during classes, to not seeing you every day.

So just like what I had feared, we fell apart. And with pain too awful for words, I accepted that. And let go. Again. But the thing is that although I’ve liked other guys here in college, no one was really able to compare with you. No matter what I say, it has always been just you that I really liked.

I hate it when people say I am in denial because they’re right. When people would ask me what’s going on between us, I’d go with my Endlessly In Denial Monologues. For me, it’s better to be in denial…just so I could keep all that pride that’s left of me. It’s better to be in denial because I know that telling the truth would no longer make a difference anyway. Especially now. What, you thought I don’t know? I stalk your Facebook profile almost every day.

I could blame myself for what has happened to us. I never told you these things I’m writing right now. Aside from that Marie Digby song I forced you to listen to, I have not done anything. But if you think about it, have you?

I ask again. HAVE YOU?

The reason why I started to avoid you was because I knew that talking to you would really hurt me so, so bad. I couldn’t imagine talking to you without ever thinking of every single chance we could have had if only things have worked out for us. But that was before. In case you haven’t noticed, I grew up. I am no longer that sixteen year-old you left in MassCom. I have become mature enough to face you.

But if you thought I was the kind of girl who could make the first move, then you’ve thought wrong. I thought you’ve always understood that. All those three years, I’ve just been waiting for you to approach me. You should never have thought that every time you’d approach me, I’d avoid you. Because I really do want to talk to you. And I really do want to hear what you have to say.

You have no idea how much I miss you. I miss our friendship. I miss how you’d listen to me when I rant about my dad’s over protectiveness or my failures as a student. I miss how you’d make fun of all my crushes. I miss how I automatically think of you whenever I have a problem and no one else could help me. I miss how I can't say No to you. I miss how we’d connect with our same taste in music. I miss the feeling I get whenever people tell us how perfect we are for each other and I see that look on your face. I even miss our little arguments. Basically, I just miss your existence. Okay, I still see you. But whenever I see you around now, I feel like I’m looking at a stranger.

And you’ve also moved on. Which honestly, as it turns out, is the worst thing a guy has ever done to me by far. It could have been okay if it was just any other guy. But it was you. You moved on. You did not wait for me.

I don’t know why it bothers me so much seeing you with someone else. I mean, I do like you, but I have learned to practice the Let Go If That’s What It Takes For Him To Be Happy principle. Maybe I’m being bitter right now because since I started college, I was always that girl linked with you. Maybe I’m just not used to the idea of having another girl aside from me be linked with you. Well, it’s not like I reserved you and you absolutely have no right to fall in love with some other girl.

But I don’t know. Maybe this is the feeling they were talking about when they said that love can make you think and do selfish things.

Wait, I’m not yet finished. I remember quite perfectly you telling me that you don’t have time for any relationships right now. Yes, I completely accepted that because I don’t really imagine us being together anyways. At least not right now. So imagine the surprise and, right, rage on my face when I found out you’re with someone. I mean what happened to the I’m-busy-right-now conversation you brought up in Facebook?

Seriously, while I’m writing this, I am realizing more and more how unfair you’re treating me.

Yes, I am completely aware of the fact that you have your reasons too. One of my friends recently made me realize that the problem with us girls is that we only think of ourselves. Yeah, yeah. What about you guys, you ask. What about your feelings? But why oh why, can’t you just tell me what those feelings are? I am so ready to tell you all that I’ve been keeping inside. But I need you to approach me first. Why, you ask again. Well, it’s one of those rules in life that I just want to follow.

I can’t make you like me anymore. No matter how many more paragraphs I add on this post, I just can’t anymore. It’s too late na, right? And although it hurts, I can always learn to accept that. I’ve accepted much too many awful truths already. What more damage would this do to me?

I guess the only thing I’m asking from you right now is an explanation. A detailed explanation of your actions from first year until right now. I want to know why I get the feeling that people around me know something that I don’t. I just wish you’d tell me what you’ve been telling them so that I am not so left out. And by the way, I want to know why everything suddenly changed after I came back from Manila for the field trip. I was only gone for four friggin days and suddenly, you were completely changed.

Not that I have anything against the girl. I’m sure she’s amazing and all and I don’t want to include her here. The problem is you. You’re sort of being like a jerk, you know that?

Many times I was almost there—getting over you. But you keep appearing out of nowhere every time to do something that would make me like you again. And that keeps repeating and repeating and repeating over and over and over again. Now that you’re in love with someone else, I wish you’d just stop doing that crazy, stupid thing you do with me. Okay?

We were friends back then. And sure, we could still be friends now. But please stop hurting me first. It hurts enough to know that you can never be mine.

Yun lang.:)





Shit. I did not just post this.







............

The Stupid-est thing I have ever done in my eighteen years of existence

Writing this article.
:)


Through the eyes of a hopeless romantic
By Jeahan Virda B. De Barras

You ask me if I have a problem. Well, I do have a problem. And to tell you honestly, I’m getting a little worried about it.

You see, I think I have been missing out on some things. Things like hugs and roses and chocolates and sweet letters. And maybe even gushing and blushing and serenades. Well generally I think I have been missing out on, umm, the most beautiful thing this life has to offer—what I have always wanted—the very thing that keeps people moving and makes life so much worthwhile. Yes, I have been missing out on love.

All my life I’ve been hearing stories about love and every time I do, I can’t help but ask, with a sorry look on my face, where is mine. Most of my friends had one. Cinderella had one. Korina Sanchez had one. Even the old lady at one of the beauty parlors downtown had one. But what about me?

If Fairy Godmother appears right now, I won’t wish for another pair of Havaianas. Instead I would ask her to make having someone to love be as easy and as instant as an instant cup of noodles. An instant cup of noodles comes in a small package, and all you need to do is just add hot water, then voila, you have food! So at that one moment when you were so hungry you couldn’t turn to the next page the thick book you’ve been reading for seven hours already, that instant cup of noodles was able to satisfy your empty, desperate stomach. I really think life will be so much easier if the love of your life could just be found inside a little hot water-enduring cup.

But because Fairy Godmother is taking her time to appear, up to this day I still have never had anything to satisfy my stomach with— oh wait, what I meant was, I have never had anything to satisfy my heart with. Never, not anything since Land Before Time.

I was never able to smile with flying hearts on my background. And I tell you, it's not easy. I am the person you see walking next to a couple who are holding hands together. I am the person who goes inside a flower shop, looks at the beautiful roses and wonders just when I'd be able to get one. I am the person you happen to pass through the benches--the person who just sits, arms crossed, and stares at the laughing boy and girl at the bench just across. I am the person who secretly cries inside the shower room, wondering if there's really somebody saved especially to lift up the loneliness and emptiness I feel inside.

You know the feeling when you come from an exhausting organization meeting and it’s already 11pm and you have to walk to your dorm alone and when you get there you still have to wait for your dorm manager to open the door for you and while waiting you hear all these weird, creepy sounds. Don’t you just suddenly wish right then and there that you were with someone strong and brave? What about those times when you are alone—reading a heartbreakingly sad book—at a coffee shop filled with laughing couples and then because of an attempt to uplift your loneliness, you suddenly begin imagining that you are also laughing with someone—The Someone. Don’t you just wish that The Someone really did exist to keep you from being insane? Since you are so curious, yes, those are just some of the random feelings I get every single day.

It’s funny, by the way, that of all people it has to be me who is put in this situation. I mean, I love love. Love is the keyword I type on Google on a regular basis. Love is why I cry over weddings and marriage proposals. Love is why I listen to Norah Jones and John Lennon. Love is the word that first catches my attention on the front cover of a novel. Love is why I get goose bumps when I hear a guy serenading the girl he loves. Love is why I keep doodling hearts on my notebook instead of listening to my boring teachers. Love is the top category out of all the fan pages I have become a fan of in Facebook. Love is why I curl myself up on my bed until 3am reading Nicholas Sparks books and watching Meg Ryan movies instead of studying for my Scriptwriting report. Love is why I smile, I laugh, I cry. Love is, I think, what really defines me.

But whyohwhy, love, can’t you just love me back? WHY?

Well I am a bit overreacting but maybe you’d understand that while others have been moping around over failed after failed relationships, I’ve also been moping around. Over relationships that never did and never will (oh gosh, I hope not) exist. At least some of you have experienced blushing and sobrang cheesy-ing before the heartaches happened.

But I don’t consider my situation unfortunate. I’m not saying that you all turn your attention away from the victims of Haiti for me. Goodness, please don’t pity me. I love being free. Even though I’ve had no experience whatsoever when it comes to relationships, at least, and I quote from my friend, “staying single means I’m increasing my market value.”

And I definitely have no plans of wasting my first real relationship over just anyone. I don’t plan on making someone my First Love just because I’m tired of being alone. I am saving myself up for one person alone. As to who that person is, I really don’t know yet.

So even though I’m kind of getting worried about this problem, don’t worry because I’ll get by. I’ll get by because I am a hundred and one percent sure that when the right time comes, the reason why I am writing this article in the first place will come.



(This is the unedited version with the more relevant title...haha)




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Love Earth.

1. Hold that straw! Plastic straws are among the most abundant debris found on beaches. Marine animals nibble on these, thinking they’re food. Remember: you are fully capable of drinking without the help of a plastic appendage.
(During the International Coastal Clean-Up and UP Clean-Up, we found so many of these. KADIRE.)

2. Donate those tarps! Tarpaulins are made of non-biodegradable and non-recyclable stuff. Instead of throwing them away, donate them to Earth Day Network, an environmental NGO that turns them into schoolbags for less fortunate children around the Philippines. Contact Ms. Binggirl Clemente at earthday_village@yahoo.com for more details.
(Tita Binggirl is AWESOME. She inspires me everyday.)

3. Chuck those (disposable) chopsticks: when dining at any Asian restaurant, bring your own reusable chopsticks. Though wooden chopsticks are biodegradable, they take a long time to decay and just add to the volume of solid waste in dumpsites. The annual production of chopsticks uses up to 90, 000 tons of wood, which comes from trees—climax of the plant kingdom and lungs of the earth.
(I AM PROUD TO SAY THAT MY FRIENDS AND I BRING CHOPSTICKS EVERY TIME WE EAT IN OMAKASE. WHICH IS AT LEAST TWICE A MONTH. Or else Ms. Fernandez goes into a bitch fit with matching hampas sa lamesa.)

4. Think big, buy big. We Filipinos have a tingi-tingi culture where everything must come small. Imagine the amount of waste we’d reduce if we bought in bulk! Instead of buying in sachets, reach for the big bottle. When traveling, just put the contents in smaller, refillable bottles that you can buy in any department store.

5. BamBOO YEAH: instead of planting a tree, plant bamboo—it’s a kind of grass, which means it grows faster. Other bamboo bonuses: it doesn’t need fertilizer, generates 35% more oxygen than a tree, and stores more CO2.
(My dad and I planted bamboos to celebrate his 55th birthday.)

6. When buying ice cream, choose cones over cups. Note: cones are edible, cups are disposable.
(Besides, hindi ba mas fun kumain from a cone?! Mas feel mo ang pagiging bata debah?)

7. Be a botante and not a bobotante: in the upcoming 2010 elections, read up on your candidates. See if there’s any green platform behind the yellow, the orange, and the hand symbols.
(Uuuuy ALAM NA.)

8. Spread the word: one person can make difference if she reduces her waste. But if she tells others, then those others tell even more others, then we can begin to effect change. It may be important to practice what you preach, but it’s equally important to preach what you practice.

9. Paper or plastic? One ton of paper bags is equivalent to 17 trees and generates five times as much solid waste as plastic. One ton of plastic bags consumes 11 barrels of crude oil and takes 1000 years to decompose. The answer: neither - bring your own!
(Last time my mom and I went to the grocery, we were busy talking so mamang bagger put them in plastic bags. Then we freaked out and said we had an ecobag with us. So the mamang bagger put the plastic bags in the ecobag. FAIL. Tinanggal namin malamang!)

10. You can carry an eco-bag or just put your purchase in your own bag. While you’re at it, tell the cashier that you don’t need a plastic bag ‘cause you want to save the world. Trust us, it’ll make her smile.
(And it always does. I do this all the time.)

11. Bring your own water bottle! 2.7 million tons of plastic are used for bottled water annually, about 90% of which end up in landfills. An average mineral water bottle costs about P20. If you stop buying one or two bottles a day, you can save up to P1120 a month. While you're at it, bring your own tumbler too! When you’re going to meet your friends for coffee, hand the barista your own tumbler or ask for your drink in a mug. Starbucks Philippines even gives a P5 discount for those who bring their own!
(Anyone who knows me has seen my huge ass water bottle na mukhang pang dispenser. My Japan Starbucks tumbler is from Bun-Chan, from Japan talaga haha!)

12. Need to reload? Go to your nearest e-load or autoload suki! Those prepaid cards are made from and individually wrapped in plastic.
(I realized this when Ma said she doesn't like buying cards.)

13. Learn to love refillables! When buying pens and highlighters, choose those that are refillable, like Stabilo. That way, when the ink runs out, you no longer have to buy new ones. Just walk to your nearest bookstore and ask for a refill.

14. Eliminate phantom drain: Believe your charger when it says BATTERY FULL - it does not lie. Plugged chargers still consume energy.
(This is my pet peeve. I walk around the house unplugging stuff. I've turned into my father :| )

14. Give me the “green” light: Replace those incandescent bulbs into Compact Fluorescent Lightbulbs (CFLs). They may cost a bit more, but think long-term: CFLs consume ¼ of the electricity and last several years longer. Plus, they look like vanilla swirl ice cream!

15. Tara na, biyahe tayo! Have you trekked the Banaue Rice Terraces, chased after whale sharks in Donsol, and viewed the Chocolate Hills of Bohol? Explore your country’s natural resources to remind yourself what it is you are saving. After all, you can only protect what you love, and love what you experience.
(This is like, my personal mission. 2010 will be Cam Sur, Cebu, Cagayan de Oro, and Camiguin. PROMISE. I need to step foot on Mindanao soil!)

The late Ninoy Aquino said that the Filipino is worth dying for. Echos. Allow me to rephrase: the Filipino is worth living for and most definitely worth greening for. Now go forth and greenify :)

I got this from Anna Oposa's blog. And I feel like sharing this one because it made me realize some things. I hope it makes an impact on you too.


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To all the guys who have ever made me think that they are the person they can never be.

Thank you very, very much. :)









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Hey, it's about them again.

I know they laugh
when I tell them
I've been waiting for so long.

But I know it's just taking time
for someone as great as you
to come along.

I know it won't be easy
to prove to them
that they are wrong.

Because
You'll be perfect.
You'll be there.
And you will show how much you care.

Oh, I know one day
they'll realize
I wasn't just dreaming
when I said
I was bound to love someone like you.

They think it's crazy for me to love someone
I haven't even met.
They think it's foolish for me to expect
that you are just out there.


Oh, they will never understand
that you are worth all this waiting.
That you are worth all my patience
I never even knew existed before.

They want to wake me up
From this daydreaming
But I am wide awake.
I live in a reality
and that reality is you.
You just have not happened yet.







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