June: In a Nutshell
I had this inkling to write everything about a whole month before it ends, and make that entry the last in the monthly archive. I’m not sure how I ended up with this idea, but it sounded cool so I will do it because I’m desperately trying to be cool. Plus, it’s easier to make an “inventory” at the end of the year when I have a summarization of months just some clicks away. Basically I’m going to include a lot of Favorite Things I have from the featured month. It will all be informal and sometimes in bullets and definitely random… in a nutshell. (Notice: This will be my first, so bear with me or get off my blog.)
June has been very surprising for me. The birth month of my brother brought him an age older and me a great deal of blessings and good news (e.g. my Immortalization Escapade, Rotaract Club, scholarship, Institute of Liberal Arts family). Everything was new, of course, the month being the start of a new semester – new faces care of the freshmen and transfer students; new subjects and units to take down; new professors; new shoes; new bag (although my favorite bag will
always be my favorite bag, so I haven’t touched the new one). Truth be told, I conclude June is better than April or May or April
and May put together.
JUNE ARCHIVES
(what I’ve written and posted in this blog)
(Saturday, June 02, 2012)
Here, I wrote how my summer had come and gone, leaving me without
anything worth to be ecstatic about. Basically, this was a rant entry, a hastily written rant entry. I listed some movies I’ve seen online and novels I couldn’t wait to finish; wrote about my glorious first semester schedule, my fascination with the dorky Michael Cera, and how the totally-Mary-Sue-bitch-she’s-so-annoying Luce Price from the
Fallen series pisses the hell out of the bookworm me. This entry was practically bursting with excitement and annoyance at the same time. And because of my “The Red Sea Has Parted” dilemma, yes, I wrote it badly. I always do anyway.
(Friday, June 08, 2012)
“I know I’m not in love right now, but that doesn’t me I’ll never fall in love.” I love rereading this entry. I entitled this “Halted Descent” because it meant “I’m wavering from falling” which simply meant “I don’t like to fall in love yet”. My wonderful best friend triggered me to write about this because it annoyed me how he said that he was worried I wasn’t going to fall in love anymore and would live in a far away, deserted place, rocking on my wooden chair while stroking the backs of my dozen cats and watching the sun set over the freakin’ horizon, frustratingly frustrated and sadly sad at the painful fact that I’m all alone and without a husband and/or a family and just have cats. It wasn’t that he annoys me (it is forever my responsibility to love him), but I was annoyed with his senseless anxiety. So what now, I’m going to be
forever alone just because I’m in love with celebrities and fictional heartthrobs and
not with real, reachable, possible people? Love can wait, my friend.
(Saturday, June 16, 2012)
Unlike the entry prior to this, this was one of the saddest and full-with-self-pity entries I have in my half-happy, half-shitty blog. Readers would be treated to a massive dose of nostalgia: I’ve Known Him Since Forever, When I Was Young, I Remember; all about a man whose identity wasn’t confirmed at first. It was about my family, so it was distressing. It was about my father, so it was painful. It was written for Fathers’ Day, so it was basically a suicide. It was
sad, okay?
(Tuesday, June 19, 2012)
I posted this particularly-bursting-with-hormones entry three days after the particularly-bursting-with-stupid-misery entry because I didn’t want my father and/or any of my relatives to read it (the latter). Anyway, this was one of the many Subject: Annoying Love entries that either make me gag my breakfast or smile like a maniac every time I back-read, although I still haven’t decided yet if I’d gag or smile at this. In a freakin’ nutshell: this was a Declaration of My Hopeless Love for GEMV entry. I have no idea if he’d seen this and not said a thing about it, or if he didn’t give a damn about my blog because he has his own (which is
really famous, for heaven’s sake) which means he will never know about this… this
feeling. I don’t know if his unawareness about this is a good thing or not. I don’t know; we haven’t talked online for a while. He’s too busy to continue our make-believe worlds with me. I’m annoying.
STRIKING QUOTE
“You don’t get to choose if you get hurt in this world, old man, but you do have some say in who hurts you.” © Augustus Waters,
The Fault in Our Stars (John Green)
BOOKS UPDATE
I had finally finished
Passion, the third book from the
Fallen series (Lauren Kate). It wasn’t that good; I think
Hush, Hush is still better. I’m still having some internal battle whether I should continue the series because I really like these bad ass fallen angels and the Nephilims Miles and Shelby. Forget about Luce and her ironically and literally dying love for Daniel Grigori. Team Bad Ass!
Aside from the aforementioned title, I had also finished three novels this month:
Spell Bound (Rachel Hawkins),
The Son of Neptune (Rick Riordan) and
The Fault in Our Stars (John Green). Hawkins, Riordan and Green are three of my favorite authors, so let’s cut this short: the novels were amazing; the characters were all funny, smart and had hearts; the authors were, God, I wish
I could write like
them. Yay for inspirations!
Current read:
Boy Meets Boy (David Levithan). I love gay people.
FAVORITE PERSON
(lad/s or lass/ies who made an impact to my life or anybody else’s or someone who inspired me the most)
I could have said “My mom is the best” but I need not to because she will always be and everyone knows that, but my favorite person this month would have to be my professor, Ms. Lorie S. (I won’t post a photo of her because she’s a private person.)
I first met her last semester, during our first institute meeting for Literary Musical. She’s young and open, so it was easy to get along with her (although we still respect her, of course). I’m currently enrolled in three of her classes, and I guess that’s good news because I heard she gives damn high grades (although I don’t take that for granted). You may ask why she got the prestigious I Love You, Congratulations Award for the Month of June: she only got me a scholarship.
It was her who asked me about my general average and informed me that I can apply for academic scholarship which I stupidly wasn’t aware about because I’m the lamest student possible. My grade didn’t make it to Dean’s List; I didn’t get full scholarship; I got 50% discount. 50 freakin’ percent! It was enough to make my Mom relieved and ultimately decide to support me in my dream to purchase all of John Green’s books. I am so thankful for Ms. Lorie that I want to lift her and twirl her round and round. I told her I owe her my life; she just laughed at it but I was serious. Thank the heavens for people like her.
Can you say that my boyfriend is super macho? Thank the heavens for gyms and weight lifting.
ONLINE ENDEVOURS
(things I’ve done online to hopelessly make me cyber-famous without removing my clothes or making Youtube covers)
More John Green epic quotes
typographies (the most reblogged and liked have 115 notes); List of
life ruiners (meaning painfully beautiful, flawless, talented and perfect celebrities); Fresh
Sam Concepcion Confessions.
SONGS OF THE MONTH
CHAMPAGNE TO POP
(celebrations, yays, confetti!)
My best friend
Zandro and I’s friendship anniversary. I can’t believe it’s been five years since we first realized that we are meant to best friends and we will never be romantically together because we get turn off by each other a lot of times… before all that I-don’t-like-you-because-my-friends-hate-you perception he had towards me, and before all that you-are-weird-and-such-a-snob perception I had towards him. We don’t really know when
exactly our ridiculous friendship started, so we decided to celebrate it late June and the whole month of July. Yep, we are cool like that.
Happy 5th friendship anniversary, Zandro! It is an honor and my responsibility to love and take care of you through crazy hormones and annoying people we secretly talk shit about (totally harmless, though).
Till next month, guys! (This closing sentence is shit.)
Status: Perilously Infatuated
It was in the middle of my Social Marketing and Broadcast Advocacy class when I found myself scribbling his initials at the back of my notebook.
I didn’t plan on doing it. Maybe the class bored me, maybe I already knew enough about Marketing so I decided to not pay attention because that was me being a natural stubborn, or maybe I realized that my fondness for him was so pathetic that acting all lovesick would make it more pathetic and push the thought that I’m really pathetic.
It is basically pathetic.
It’s pathetic that I miss him even though we don’t share any fond memories that don’t involve awkwardness and/or freaking out [from me]. It’s pathetic how one moment I don’t care about him, but just a message or a mention from him instantly brings back the infatuation that has already been living in me for more than two years. It’s pathetic how I only get to start a conversation with him when books are the topic, and I’d go nuts when he also reads what I read and like the characters that I like. It’s pathetic that it’s been two freakin’ eons and yet here I am, still hoping but obviously
hopeless. It’s pathetic how I keep telling myself that this foolishness will only bear spoiled fruits, but still I keep on watering and growing it. It’s pathetic that, albeit all of the painfully palpable flashing-in-neon-warning sign that says “Possible Heart Ache from Unrequited Love and False Hope!”, I still like him, a likeness that is, although inconsistent,
never ceasing.
I was waiting for a ride home when I started thinking of him again. When the public vehicle came, there was this random guy in a white shirt that also hopped in. My flirting instinct willed him to sit beside me; he did. It was crowded inside, and we’d have to squeeze everyone in so the driver would be a happy driver and the commuters would be grumpy commuters. I didn’t know why, but I felt
happy that I get to sit next to White Shirt Random Guy (WSRG) and be so close to him. Then I realized I was thinking of
him, the guy I’m talking about from the very start, the end receiver of my imprudent love. I was mentally coming up with scenes where we’d sit next to each other, get all cozy, be comfortable and be normal friends. I had no idea how WSRG reminded me of him. They didn’t look alike, not at all; even the style of their hair was dissimilar; don’t even ask about the height; I didn’t know how the both of them smelled but I was sure they also differ.
It was dead on weird. If this keeps happening, I might look at every guy and think of him, which is basically
not healthy.
You wouldn’t imagine how much I would want to see him right now… and not freak out or run away or do anything as stupid. Every time my friend and I make plans of meeting and catching up in her school, the first thing that would come out of my mind when I make a list of “Things I Would Get From This” is the idea of seeing him. And I feel guilty about it. It suggests the impression that I don’t care about my friend and that I miss him more than I miss her. That’s just so sick. But even though the idea is unacceptable and totally-Mary Sue, it happens; it’s true.
I miss him – I
always miss him, like every minute, every second, every hour of the day, every time that I’m away, I’m missing him, missing him (this is a song, if you don’t get the supposed-humor; he would surely do and snort in the process). I don’t know on what level of yearning he stands, but I bet he’s part of the upper half. I must
really like him… and it’s
scary.
I’m talking about the same guy I wrote about
here and
here; the second guy in
here; the same guy I had
dreams of;
this exact same guy; and basically the guy whom a quarter of my 200 posts is about.
I don’t know if I should move on and give the apple to someone else (other than Sam Concepcion, of course), because the despondency from this little crush is like a slap on my face. Every time I daydream about him, it feels weird, like forcing to wear badly fitted shoes just because they look awesome and such killers. As much as I would want to, I
can’t see him as someone I would hold hands with, share an extra large serving of ice cream with, laugh-snort with, visit bookstores with. It feels like we’re not
compatible, that he’s too good for me, that I’m too bad for him. Then I learned that he hasn’t had a girlfriend since birth, and what the
heck, look at
my record! And he’s good looking and smart and an all-around nice guy, but he’s like, “No, studies first before love.” And I’m like, “If you can juggle both then go!” – and heck, I’m not even good looking and smart and an all-around nice girl! (I even think that if he’s a girl, he’d look prettier than me. I’m not kidding.)
The feeling that he deserves somebody better keeps running through my mind and my veins. And. This. Sucks. Big. Time.
I don’t want to be pessimistic or a love killer or become anything evil, but I have this natural defense of slaying any romantic feeling right from the start, before it crawls everywhere and be out of control. Okay, okay, maybe I’m a love killer.
I’m just scared. I haven’t tried to stop this feeling for him because I’m not sure if it’s still a harmless infatuation and just point 209273761% away from becoming love, hanging by a flimsy thread. It’s not love yet, but I’m not sure. Sometimes it feels like
love, sometimes it’s just me being
hopeless romantic. It’s confusing, really – so confusing I want to fling this laptop like how a laptop-flinger flings a laptop, but I can’t because it’s a laptop and laptops are expensive so I think I’d just look for something less valuable and breakable than a laptop (and
ding! I just set a new world record for Most Number of the Word “Laptop” Used in One Sentence). I know this
isn’t love yet, and I
don’t want it to be love yet. It’s wretched to say this but… possibly unrequited love from false hopes can
seriously lead to heart aches. And I suck at heart aches, just as how much I suck at dancing (don’t even get me started – pandas dance better than me).
But even if I like him and he probably doesn’t like me back, I don’t want to forget him, our little secrets, ridiculous songs, epic fail gags and make-believe worlds. (We started this childish make-believe before where we’re in the
Hunger Games arena; we’re both from the same district; we’re helping each other so we both get to live; and basically we’re like Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. But when I said that I want to be Annie Cresta, he suddenly said that he’s The Boy with the Trident. Umm… err…
what?) I
cannot forget someone like him. Albeit the fact that we’re not super friends and we barely talk in person, I’m so grateful that at least, online/virtually, we established a relationship that can last until Facebook or Twitter dissolves (or
beyond that).
I know this may sound like a petty declaration of my petty love, but
Jesus Heavens, I like GEMV aka The Corny Dude aka The Geeky Guy with the Cyborg. Really. I don’t care if he reads this and feel awkward, or if one of his thousand friends reads this and rats me out and he’d feel awkward. I’ve been dying to tell this to him anyway. I just don’t like keeping admiration from someone who’s worth the recognition. If awkward we become after this, then awkward it is. Besides, he’s a good guy; he’s
not a douche bag. He knows this stuff. And that’s why I like him.
And I plan on keeping it on Infatuation Mode if necessary… or until it feels like it’s already beyond that. Ah, this is weird.
This Uncharted Territory
There’s this man. He means a lot to me. I hope I mean a lot to him, too. But I think I am part of his “Most Important People” list. I really hope that’s the case, because he’s part of mine.
I love this man. I may not say it a lot of time – heck, I never said anything like that to him – but I do.
I love him. He’s like the number one man,
my number one man. I haven’t told him how much he means to me because affectionate words aren’t my thing – aren’t
our thing actually. Funny, I come up with meaningful words and phrases in my blog post every week, but simple words like “I love you” seem like the hardest to say. It’s not that I don’t actually love him, because I do, I love him so much. Maybe I’m just that girl: good at written, humorous words, but sucks at deep and honestly meant ones. Yeah, this kind of person exists; go to this blog’s profile page and you’re looking at her.
Let me tell you something about this man, though. I’ve known him since forever. I grew up with him. He watched me grow old and be eaten by hormones; I watched him grow older and be eaten by time. He witnessed me grow taller than him; I witnessed his figure shrink before my eyes. He once wrote a journal entry about me on my birthday (he didn’t know that I was nosy); I don’t always remember the day he was born, and I don’t know how old he is. He comes up with endearing, although silly, versions of my name; I don’t call him by what a civilized human should call someone like him. He always loves me; I sometimes hate him.
When I was young and not puberty-stricken yet, he would take me on a joyride; I would hint indifference because we’d take the same route over and over again. When I was young and not hating the world yet, he would tickle me until I die and strangle me until I run out of breath; I would give him a seething look but like it anyway because I know it’s our version of “bonding”. When I was young and still living with him, sometimes a day would pass without us acknowledging each other, as if we don’t live under the same roof. When I was young and everything wasn’t awkward yet, I could act all silly and throw tantrums and wish that he would notice that something was wrong – sometimes it would work, sometimes it wouldn’t.
I remember seeing him drunk with his amigos and me not giving a damn because that’s how he lives his life. I remember that one Facebook moment when he sent me a personal message of how sorry he was that our life was screwed and he wasn’t being what he was supposed to be; I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know what to say and because it felt so awkward. I remember not seeing him attend any of my awarding ceremonies when I was in grade school, not climbing up the stage with me to receive any of my honors medal.
I remember him bringing me to the mall and asking me to choose clothes for myself – we went shopping! It was memorable because it was the only memory I have of him buying me clothes. (We weren’t always rich so shopping wasn’t my childhood hobby.) I remember him taking me back home when I accidentally took a splash in the canal one totally-embarrassing-that-it-would-haunt-you-forever night. I remember being fetched almost every day from our neighbor because I always forgot that I have my own home. I remember him bringing us to the carnival: we loved the rides; after a minute, he wished to stop and hop off because he easily got nauseated. I remember him soaping my knee when it stupidly got stuck in between the gate’s metal railings; I was so scared that they would need to cut off my knee that I just cried. I remember asking him why the lenses of his eyeglasses had different “textures” and why it looked weird and hurt my eyes; he said that one part was for reading and one was for normal stuff (I didn’t understand this). I remember him asking me what I wanted to take in college and suggesting that I take Engineering; I told him Engineering is a pain in the ass and Mathematics hates me anyway.
I remember him being what he was supposed to be towards me. I remember having him as how I should have him.
I don’t always see him, only on several holidays. Sometimes a year will pass without me seeing him, knowing how he is, being aware of how he looks. It’s the same thing for him, too. Sometimes I miss him, sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I hate him for doing what he did that led us this imperfect life. Sometimes I just wish that he’s happily living with the people he’s living with now.
I miss him. I miss
having someone like him. I miss the
feeling of having someone like him. I miss
myself having someone like him.
But I can’t be selfish and ask God to flip events so he could be with us rather than where he is now. I can’t afford to always feel that our lives suck because a man left us. I can’t act all shitty and shallow because losing him isn’t the end of the world. We survived without him for half of our lives, we can survive for another. I
don’t hate him. I try not to keep grudges and think ill of him. I try to stop it when the ugly hopelessness starts to overshadow me. I just try to keep in mind that it didn’t work, so I shouldn’t push anymore because worse damage can be done if I don’t stop.
He’s still my father anyway, however you put it, whichever side you look at it.
And I love my father. I love him.
Halted Descent
“I know I’m not in love right now, but that doesn’t mean I’ll never fall in love.”
© Charlyne Yi, Paper Heart
Paper Heart (directed by Nicholas Jasenovec) is one of the many movies I’ve seen online this past month, a month which is supposedly called “Happy Summer” but became just “Boring Bummer” to me. I came upon this movie, which isn’t really mainstream because it was originally produced for Sundance Film Festival (which I think means it’s an indigenous film), because I fell in love with the geeky and dorky Michael Cera and had a summer goal of watching every film he starred in, be it a box office, an indie or a flop. Paper Heart is a documentary movie starring
Charlyne Yi as the “host”,
Jake M. Johnson (whom I also adore) as the “director/producer” and Michael Cera as… umm, Michael Cera, Charlyne’s love interest. The documentary is composed of different stories from different people with only one element that keeps them figuratively connected to each other:
love. Charlyne decides to make love as the subject of this docu-film, because, as far as she knows, she doesn’t believe in and hasn’t fallen in love yet.
But tada! This entry isn’t a movie review (because you all know how crappy I make them). I decided to incorporate this movie in this post because of the aforementioned quote. I love this quote because I can relate to it so bad in this chapter of my consistently distraught life. “I know I’m not in love right now” – yes, I am
exactly that line.
You may ask what brought me into writing about my insipid relationship status
again. It was because of my best friend. One Facebook moment, he told me (through instant messaging) that he worries about me because I don’t seem to be in love or inspired or something. He worries that my hopeless and constant fangirling over celebrities and fictional characters will leave me hopelessly and constantly fangirling over people who seem to be either impossible to
attain or impossible to
exist, that it will ultimately leave me depressed and forever alone… and still a fangirl. I find all of it funny. Not that I don’t give a damn about what my best friend has to say because I do, but it’s just… umm…
what the hell?It made me wonder… should I fall in love this moment, fall in love again? Have I set my priorities straight yet? Do I even like someone? Does someone even like
me? Do I have to tell Mom? Am I even ready? Is my heart ready? Is my psych ready?
It’s been three years since I’ve last dated someone. When I was in high school, I always had a boyfriend or a “mutual understanding partner” or a flirting partner. Nope, I wasn’t a hormone-driven, high school bitch with the longest list of boys in tow. Nope, I didn’t have guys lining outside waiting for my “yes” with fucking flowers on one hand and fucking chocolates on the other. What the fuck, that never happened to me (thank goodness!). I always had some guy because, I don’t know, I
>liked falling in love. I liked the feeling of it. I liked the giddiness and tingling nerves and never-ending electricity. They told me I looked better and had a happier disposition when I was in love. So I was. After my last relationship, I didn’t care about how I looked or how my disposition was. It wasn’t that I had a hard time moving on – screw that. Love just dropped down to the lower part of my priorities.
It occurred to me that I had my own share of love and relationships and kisses already, enough to complete the cycle of successfully making a naïve tween to a worldly teen.
I’ve had enough for now. It’s time for me to resurface before I drown in this endless sea of love and butterflies and whatever-cute-insect-there-is, a sea with an uncontrollable torrent, a sea where a man can lose navigation and become lost and confused and eventually heartbroken. It’s time to have a break and press pause the abnormal heart rate. It’s time to draw the lovesick curtain and look at the bigger picture. It’s time to search for the deeper meaning of love other than kissing someone passionately and scribbling shipment nicknames at the back of every notebook, believing that these nicknames would last “4ever”. It’s time to realize that there’s more to life than just being with someone romantically.
It’s time to have a more meaningful existence… even without the romantic company someone as special and as perfect as Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.
I told my best friend that I can be happy even without a guy. I assured him that even if I’m literally falling for
Sam Concepcion and
Colton Dixon and that I’m hopelessly wishing to pull the sexy Patch Cipriano out of the
Hush, Hush pages, I will not end as a forever alone, loveless, hormone-driven, fangirling female. I
swear I will not. I told him to stop fidgeting and worrying about my love life and the history it’s making, because I don’t give a fuck so he
shouldn’t. I will have my time again. At the moment I’m just contented at studying, reading, blogging and flirting virtually with somebody who I’m not sure is also flirting or wants to flirt back. (Guys! It’s not what you think! I’m
not registered to a dating website or anything as pathetic. Oh, Christ. I know this guy personally and I like him so much it’s retarded. I’m just extra sweet when it comes to him.) I’m contented with just liking someone and guarding my feelings to make sure I don’t walk far enough to step inside the scary and pretty region of love.
“But that doesn’t mean I’ll never fall in love.” I know I will fall in love again, in the right time, with the right guy. And when that moment comes, I want it to be a peaceful, long and happy descent.
I Write Badly
Hello, June!
I still can’t believe I’m – in all of the world’s divine meaning –
actually feeling this: I am so freakin’ excited to go back to school and sweep these units off. I’ve wasted half of the year last 2011 to unsuccessfully become a beardless hermit living with her mother. This mistake pushes me to go to school and catch up with life and education and educational life.
I already have my schedule, and I freakin’ like it. I will spend my Mondays, Thursdays and Fridays stuck in school for seven hours, draining whatever’s left in my brain to drain. But I like it, still. At least I won’t have classes on Tuesdays and Saturdays and only have Gym on Wednesdays. I hope this majestic schedule will stay unchanged till the semester ends. I’m basically in love with it… and
please, for the love of all that’s holy, make me in love with it more.
So, you may ask how my May went. My May archives basically (I love this word!) didn’t tell you anything about my summer (yes, my post
“Summer Bummer” wasn’t everything there was). I wrote more about my views regarding petty and infuriating subjects in our “more fun” country (i.e.
PBB: Teen Edition,
Lady Gaga,
American Idol). Maybe this happened because my summer wasn’t fun at all so I noticed everything that were worth and not worth noticing and wrote about them. (Also, the coming of fucking Ian Somerhalder, Leighton Meester, Joe Jonas and Allison Harvard and my fucking
missing them made everything damned.) You can say that my boredom and unfortunate fate led me to my
hating the world.
When I wasn’t practicing my hates, though, I was up to something more productive. So what did I do for thirty one days? I watched tons of movies online, listened to playlists, stalked One Direction, and looked up more books. I had this one summer goal to watch all of Michael Cera’s movies. I almost did it, almost saw everything, but I didn’t because I wasn’t able to find the remaining online. And since I can’t come up with acceptable words to make a decent blog entry right now because my female hormonal monthly challenge had begun (slash “The Red Sea Has Parted”) and my back and lower
everything hurt like hell, I will just make a list of every movie I saw online this May:
Michael Cera’s:
- Paper Heart. “I know I’m not in love right now, but that doesn’t mean I’ll never fall in love.” – Charlyne Yi
- Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist. I basically love this movie! Kat Dennings is beautiful.
- Youth in Revolt. Francois Dillinger is a BAMF.
- Superbad. Too much life lessons.
- Scott Pilgrim VS The World. Weird, but Mary Elizabeth Winstead is indeed a hottie.
I didn’t see
Year One because I think I already saw it some time;
Juno, yes, I’ve seen it when I was in high school; I wasn’t able to find
Extreme Movie and
Bad Dads.
Other movies:
- The Chronicles of Narnia: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. I just cried at the last ten minutes (why did Lucy and my Edmund have to leave?); in love with Reepicheep and Eustace Scrubb.
- Flipped. Love the book; love the movie; love Callan McAuliffe.
- Wristcutters: A Love Story. Weirder.
- The Virgin Suicides. Creepy, hence in love with it, and hello, Kirsten Dunst!
- Starstruck. Sterling Knight + What You Mean To Me = Heaven!
- The Diary of a Wimpy Kid. Finally.
- Halloweentown. Take me there!
- Halloweentown II. Hormones.
During the summer, I wasn’t able to read books and e-books. I was just too fascinated with the wonders I found online that I didn’t bother turning some leaves and/or turning on my Scroll-slash-Ebook Reader to continue reading
Passion (Lauren Kate). And oh, maybe it was also because of
Passion itself. I’m back to reading it now and I’m just so eager to finish it because I don’t like where the story is heading so far. I thought travelling through Announcers would be fun… it was, by the way. I like the time travelling part of the story because it shows a lot about culture in different nations in different centuries. But what I don’t find so exciting is Luce Price herself. I hate her. I hate how she keeps on barging in the past like she belongs in it and not keeping in mind the big changes her small actions in her travelling will make in the present and future. She’s like, “What harm can I do?” And everyone around her are like, “Everything, bitch!” She’s so shallow. I don’t like her Mary Sue side.
I don’t like Mary Sues, period. And she keeps on forgetting what her main goal is. Every time she sees Daniel Grigori, the hot and beautiful and glorious fallen angel, exude his hotness and beauty and gloriousness, she’s like, “I miss him. I want to feel his touch, the softness of his lips, his love.” Oh heck, Luce! You leave your present Daniel to make out with the past ones? Are you
freakin’ kidding me? I basically hate every heroine who doesn’t act like a true heroine because they’re too blinded with love. Love sick females are the worst kind of characters. But since I don’t like leaving a novel hanging, I will finish this… and if this ends better than how it’s going, we’ll see if I’d still continue reading the whole series… which makes me remember, if I finish this, I should go and continue reading
Extras so I could finally end the
Uglies series (Scott Westerfeld).
But, don’t get me wrong, I
still love books – I will
forever love books, so here’s my list of new novels to read!
- Before I Fall (Lauren Oliver)
- Boy Meets Boy (David Levithan)
- Delirium (Lauren Oliver)
- Hex Hall: Spell Bound (Rachel Hawkins). I love this series!
- I Am Number Four (Pittacus Lore)
- If I Stay (Gayle Forman)
- Matched (Allie Condie)
- Starters (Lisa Price)
- The Chronicles of Narnia (CS Lewis). I’ve already finished The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe last year, but I didn’t continue.
- The Book Thief (Markus Zusak)
- The Infernal Devices (Cassandra Clare)
- The Mortal Instruments: City of Lost Souls (Cassandra Clare). By the Angel, this series is amazing!
- The Selection (Kiera Cass)
- The Virgin Suicides (Jeffrey Eugenides). I only wanted to read this because the movie intrigued me so much.
I have a lot of novels and series to finish. If there is hoarding in reading, I might as well be a shy away from doing exactly that. I’m actually setting a goal regarding my reading: To finish enough novels to have “100 (read)” in my
Goodreads account. So now that I have at least two weeks before school opens, I am basically running and panting to catch up, because I’m afraid that my subjects this semester will kill me and my free time, hence my reading will be affected. Good luck to me.
Oh, well. Have a freakin’ awesome semester everyone! I will try my hardest to find time for my blog. (What the hell is this post? SMH. It’s so hard to have bad cramps during this time of the month.)
a woeful & chaotic diary since 071409
June: In a Nutshell
I had this inkling to write everything about a whole month before it ends, and make that entry the last in the monthly archive. I’m not sure how I ended up with this idea, but it sounded cool so I will do it because I’m desperately trying to be cool. Plus, it’s easier to make an “inventory” at the end of the year when I have a summarization of months just some clicks away. Basically I’m going to include a lot of Favorite Things I have from the featured month. It will all be informal and sometimes in bullets and definitely random… in a nutshell. (Notice: This will be my first, so bear with me or get off my blog.)
June has been very surprising for me. The birth month of my brother brought him an age older and me a great deal of blessings and good news (e.g. my Immortalization Escapade, Rotaract Club, scholarship, Institute of Liberal Arts family). Everything was new, of course, the month being the start of a new semester – new faces care of the freshmen and transfer students; new subjects and units to take down; new professors; new shoes; new bag (although my favorite bag will
always be my favorite bag, so I haven’t touched the new one). Truth be told, I conclude June is better than April or May or April
and May put together.
JUNE ARCHIVES
(what I’ve written and posted in this blog)
(Saturday, June 02, 2012)
Here, I wrote how my summer had come and gone, leaving me without
anything worth to be ecstatic about. Basically, this was a rant entry, a hastily written rant entry. I listed some movies I’ve seen online and novels I couldn’t wait to finish; wrote about my glorious first semester schedule, my fascination with the dorky Michael Cera, and how the totally-Mary-Sue-bitch-she’s-so-annoying Luce Price from the
Fallen series pisses the hell out of the bookworm me. This entry was practically bursting with excitement and annoyance at the same time. And because of my “The Red Sea Has Parted” dilemma, yes, I wrote it badly. I always do anyway.
(Friday, June 08, 2012)
“I know I’m not in love right now, but that doesn’t me I’ll never fall in love.” I love rereading this entry. I entitled this “Halted Descent” because it meant “I’m wavering from falling” which simply meant “I don’t like to fall in love yet”. My wonderful best friend triggered me to write about this because it annoyed me how he said that he was worried I wasn’t going to fall in love anymore and would live in a far away, deserted place, rocking on my wooden chair while stroking the backs of my dozen cats and watching the sun set over the freakin’ horizon, frustratingly frustrated and sadly sad at the painful fact that I’m all alone and without a husband and/or a family and just have cats. It wasn’t that he annoys me (it is forever my responsibility to love him), but I was annoyed with his senseless anxiety. So what now, I’m going to be
forever alone just because I’m in love with celebrities and fictional heartthrobs and
not with real, reachable, possible people? Love can wait, my friend.
(Saturday, June 16, 2012)
Unlike the entry prior to this, this was one of the saddest and full-with-self-pity entries I have in my half-happy, half-shitty blog. Readers would be treated to a massive dose of nostalgia: I’ve Known Him Since Forever, When I Was Young, I Remember; all about a man whose identity wasn’t confirmed at first. It was about my family, so it was distressing. It was about my father, so it was painful. It was written for Fathers’ Day, so it was basically a suicide. It was
sad, okay?
(Tuesday, June 19, 2012)
I posted this particularly-bursting-with-hormones entry three days after the particularly-bursting-with-stupid-misery entry because I didn’t want my father and/or any of my relatives to read it (the latter). Anyway, this was one of the many Subject: Annoying Love entries that either make me gag my breakfast or smile like a maniac every time I back-read, although I still haven’t decided yet if I’d gag or smile at this. In a freakin’ nutshell: this was a Declaration of My Hopeless Love for GEMV entry. I have no idea if he’d seen this and not said a thing about it, or if he didn’t give a damn about my blog because he has his own (which is
really famous, for heaven’s sake) which means he will never know about this… this
feeling. I don’t know if his unawareness about this is a good thing or not. I don’t know; we haven’t talked online for a while. He’s too busy to continue our make-believe worlds with me. I’m annoying.
STRIKING QUOTE
“You don’t get to choose if you get hurt in this world, old man, but you do have some say in who hurts you.” © Augustus Waters,
The Fault in Our Stars (John Green)
BOOKS UPDATE
I had finally finished
Passion, the third book from the
Fallen series (Lauren Kate). It wasn’t that good; I think
Hush, Hush is still better. I’m still having some internal battle whether I should continue the series because I really like these bad ass fallen angels and the Nephilims Miles and Shelby. Forget about Luce and her ironically and literally dying love for Daniel Grigori. Team Bad Ass!
Aside from the aforementioned title, I had also finished three novels this month:
Spell Bound (Rachel Hawkins),
The Son of Neptune (Rick Riordan) and
The Fault in Our Stars (John Green). Hawkins, Riordan and Green are three of my favorite authors, so let’s cut this short: the novels were amazing; the characters were all funny, smart and had hearts; the authors were, God, I wish
I could write like
them. Yay for inspirations!
Current read:
Boy Meets Boy (David Levithan). I love gay people.
FAVORITE PERSON
(lad/s or lass/ies who made an impact to my life or anybody else’s or someone who inspired me the most)
I could have said “My mom is the best” but I need not to because she will always be and everyone knows that, but my favorite person this month would have to be my professor, Ms. Lorie S. (I won’t post a photo of her because she’s a private person.)
I first met her last semester, during our first institute meeting for Literary Musical. She’s young and open, so it was easy to get along with her (although we still respect her, of course). I’m currently enrolled in three of her classes, and I guess that’s good news because I heard she gives damn high grades (although I don’t take that for granted). You may ask why she got the prestigious I Love You, Congratulations Award for the Month of June: she only got me a scholarship.
It was her who asked me about my general average and informed me that I can apply for academic scholarship which I stupidly wasn’t aware about because I’m the lamest student possible. My grade didn’t make it to Dean’s List; I didn’t get full scholarship; I got 50% discount. 50 freakin’ percent! It was enough to make my Mom relieved and ultimately decide to support me in my dream to purchase all of John Green’s books. I am so thankful for Ms. Lorie that I want to lift her and twirl her round and round. I told her I owe her my life; she just laughed at it but I was serious. Thank the heavens for people like her.
Can you say that my boyfriend is super macho? Thank the heavens for gyms and weight lifting.
ONLINE ENDEVOURS
(things I’ve done online to hopelessly make me cyber-famous without removing my clothes or making Youtube covers)
More John Green epic quotes
typographies (the most reblogged and liked have 115 notes); List of
life ruiners (meaning painfully beautiful, flawless, talented and perfect celebrities); Fresh
Sam Concepcion Confessions.
SONGS OF THE MONTH
CHAMPAGNE TO POP
(celebrations, yays, confetti!)
My best friend
Zandro and I’s friendship anniversary. I can’t believe it’s been five years since we first realized that we are meant to best friends and we will never be romantically together because we get turn off by each other a lot of times… before all that I-don’t-like-you-because-my-friends-hate-you perception he had towards me, and before all that you-are-weird-and-such-a-snob perception I had towards him. We don’t really know when
exactly our ridiculous friendship started, so we decided to celebrate it late June and the whole month of July. Yep, we are cool like that.
Happy 5th friendship anniversary, Zandro! It is an honor and my responsibility to love and take care of you through crazy hormones and annoying people we secretly talk shit about (totally harmless, though).
Till next month, guys! (This closing sentence is shit.)
Status: Perilously Infatuated
It was in the middle of my Social Marketing and Broadcast Advocacy class when I found myself scribbling his initials at the back of my notebook.
I didn’t plan on doing it. Maybe the class bored me, maybe I already knew enough about Marketing so I decided to not pay attention because that was me being a natural stubborn, or maybe I realized that my fondness for him was so pathetic that acting all lovesick would make it more pathetic and push the thought that I’m really pathetic.
It is basically pathetic.
It’s pathetic that I miss him even though we don’t share any fond memories that don’t involve awkwardness and/or freaking out [from me]. It’s pathetic how one moment I don’t care about him, but just a message or a mention from him instantly brings back the infatuation that has already been living in me for more than two years. It’s pathetic how I only get to start a conversation with him when books are the topic, and I’d go nuts when he also reads what I read and like the characters that I like. It’s pathetic that it’s been two freakin’ eons and yet here I am, still hoping but obviously
hopeless. It’s pathetic how I keep telling myself that this foolishness will only bear spoiled fruits, but still I keep on watering and growing it. It’s pathetic that, albeit all of the painfully palpable flashing-in-neon-warning sign that says “Possible Heart Ache from Unrequited Love and False Hope!”, I still like him, a likeness that is, although inconsistent,
never ceasing.
I was waiting for a ride home when I started thinking of him again. When the public vehicle came, there was this random guy in a white shirt that also hopped in. My flirting instinct willed him to sit beside me; he did. It was crowded inside, and we’d have to squeeze everyone in so the driver would be a happy driver and the commuters would be grumpy commuters. I didn’t know why, but I felt
happy that I get to sit next to White Shirt Random Guy (WSRG) and be so close to him. Then I realized I was thinking of
him, the guy I’m talking about from the very start, the end receiver of my imprudent love. I was mentally coming up with scenes where we’d sit next to each other, get all cozy, be comfortable and be normal friends. I had no idea how WSRG reminded me of him. They didn’t look alike, not at all; even the style of their hair was dissimilar; don’t even ask about the height; I didn’t know how the both of them smelled but I was sure they also differ.
It was dead on weird. If this keeps happening, I might look at every guy and think of him, which is basically
not healthy.
You wouldn’t imagine how much I would want to see him right now… and not freak out or run away or do anything as stupid. Every time my friend and I make plans of meeting and catching up in her school, the first thing that would come out of my mind when I make a list of “Things I Would Get From This” is the idea of seeing him. And I feel guilty about it. It suggests the impression that I don’t care about my friend and that I miss him more than I miss her. That’s just so sick. But even though the idea is unacceptable and totally-Mary Sue, it happens; it’s true.
I miss him – I
always miss him, like every minute, every second, every hour of the day, every time that I’m away, I’m missing him, missing him (this is a song, if you don’t get the supposed-humor; he would surely do and snort in the process). I don’t know on what level of yearning he stands, but I bet he’s part of the upper half. I must
really like him… and it’s
scary.
I’m talking about the same guy I wrote about
here and
here; the second guy in
here; the same guy I had
dreams of;
this exact same guy; and basically the guy whom a quarter of my 200 posts is about.
I don’t know if I should move on and give the apple to someone else (other than Sam Concepcion, of course), because the despondency from this little crush is like a slap on my face. Every time I daydream about him, it feels weird, like forcing to wear badly fitted shoes just because they look awesome and such killers. As much as I would want to, I
can’t see him as someone I would hold hands with, share an extra large serving of ice cream with, laugh-snort with, visit bookstores with. It feels like we’re not
compatible, that he’s too good for me, that I’m too bad for him. Then I learned that he hasn’t had a girlfriend since birth, and what the
heck, look at
my record! And he’s good looking and smart and an all-around nice guy, but he’s like, “No, studies first before love.” And I’m like, “If you can juggle both then go!” – and heck, I’m not even good looking and smart and an all-around nice girl! (I even think that if he’s a girl, he’d look prettier than me. I’m not kidding.)
The feeling that he deserves somebody better keeps running through my mind and my veins. And. This. Sucks. Big. Time.
I don’t want to be pessimistic or a love killer or become anything evil, but I have this natural defense of slaying any romantic feeling right from the start, before it crawls everywhere and be out of control. Okay, okay, maybe I’m a love killer.
I’m just scared. I haven’t tried to stop this feeling for him because I’m not sure if it’s still a harmless infatuation and just point 209273761% away from becoming love, hanging by a flimsy thread. It’s not love yet, but I’m not sure. Sometimes it feels like
love, sometimes it’s just me being
hopeless romantic. It’s confusing, really – so confusing I want to fling this laptop like how a laptop-flinger flings a laptop, but I can’t because it’s a laptop and laptops are expensive so I think I’d just look for something less valuable and breakable than a laptop (and
ding! I just set a new world record for Most Number of the Word “Laptop” Used in One Sentence). I know this
isn’t love yet, and I
don’t want it to be love yet. It’s wretched to say this but… possibly unrequited love from false hopes can
seriously lead to heart aches. And I suck at heart aches, just as how much I suck at dancing (don’t even get me started – pandas dance better than me).
But even if I like him and he probably doesn’t like me back, I don’t want to forget him, our little secrets, ridiculous songs, epic fail gags and make-believe worlds. (We started this childish make-believe before where we’re in the
Hunger Games arena; we’re both from the same district; we’re helping each other so we both get to live; and basically we’re like Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. But when I said that I want to be Annie Cresta, he suddenly said that he’s The Boy with the Trident. Umm… err…
what?) I
cannot forget someone like him. Albeit the fact that we’re not super friends and we barely talk in person, I’m so grateful that at least, online/virtually, we established a relationship that can last until Facebook or Twitter dissolves (or
beyond that).
I know this may sound like a petty declaration of my petty love, but
Jesus Heavens, I like GEMV aka The Corny Dude aka The Geeky Guy with the Cyborg. Really. I don’t care if he reads this and feel awkward, or if one of his thousand friends reads this and rats me out and he’d feel awkward. I’ve been dying to tell this to him anyway. I just don’t like keeping admiration from someone who’s worth the recognition. If awkward we become after this, then awkward it is. Besides, he’s a good guy; he’s
not a douche bag. He knows this stuff. And that’s why I like him.
And I plan on keeping it on Infatuation Mode if necessary… or until it feels like it’s already beyond that. Ah, this is weird.
This Uncharted Territory
There’s this man. He means a lot to me. I hope I mean a lot to him, too. But I think I am part of his “Most Important People” list. I really hope that’s the case, because he’s part of mine.
I love this man. I may not say it a lot of time – heck, I never said anything like that to him – but I do.
I love him. He’s like the number one man,
my number one man. I haven’t told him how much he means to me because affectionate words aren’t my thing – aren’t
our thing actually. Funny, I come up with meaningful words and phrases in my blog post every week, but simple words like “I love you” seem like the hardest to say. It’s not that I don’t actually love him, because I do, I love him so much. Maybe I’m just that girl: good at written, humorous words, but sucks at deep and honestly meant ones. Yeah, this kind of person exists; go to this blog’s profile page and you’re looking at her.
Let me tell you something about this man, though. I’ve known him since forever. I grew up with him. He watched me grow old and be eaten by hormones; I watched him grow older and be eaten by time. He witnessed me grow taller than him; I witnessed his figure shrink before my eyes. He once wrote a journal entry about me on my birthday (he didn’t know that I was nosy); I don’t always remember the day he was born, and I don’t know how old he is. He comes up with endearing, although silly, versions of my name; I don’t call him by what a civilized human should call someone like him. He always loves me; I sometimes hate him.
When I was young and not puberty-stricken yet, he would take me on a joyride; I would hint indifference because we’d take the same route over and over again. When I was young and not hating the world yet, he would tickle me until I die and strangle me until I run out of breath; I would give him a seething look but like it anyway because I know it’s our version of “bonding”. When I was young and still living with him, sometimes a day would pass without us acknowledging each other, as if we don’t live under the same roof. When I was young and everything wasn’t awkward yet, I could act all silly and throw tantrums and wish that he would notice that something was wrong – sometimes it would work, sometimes it wouldn’t.
I remember seeing him drunk with his amigos and me not giving a damn because that’s how he lives his life. I remember that one Facebook moment when he sent me a personal message of how sorry he was that our life was screwed and he wasn’t being what he was supposed to be; I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know what to say and because it felt so awkward. I remember not seeing him attend any of my awarding ceremonies when I was in grade school, not climbing up the stage with me to receive any of my honors medal.
I remember him bringing me to the mall and asking me to choose clothes for myself – we went shopping! It was memorable because it was the only memory I have of him buying me clothes. (We weren’t always rich so shopping wasn’t my childhood hobby.) I remember him taking me back home when I accidentally took a splash in the canal one totally-embarrassing-that-it-would-haunt-you-forever night. I remember being fetched almost every day from our neighbor because I always forgot that I have my own home. I remember him bringing us to the carnival: we loved the rides; after a minute, he wished to stop and hop off because he easily got nauseated. I remember him soaping my knee when it stupidly got stuck in between the gate’s metal railings; I was so scared that they would need to cut off my knee that I just cried. I remember asking him why the lenses of his eyeglasses had different “textures” and why it looked weird and hurt my eyes; he said that one part was for reading and one was for normal stuff (I didn’t understand this). I remember him asking me what I wanted to take in college and suggesting that I take Engineering; I told him Engineering is a pain in the ass and Mathematics hates me anyway.
I remember him being what he was supposed to be towards me. I remember having him as how I should have him.
I don’t always see him, only on several holidays. Sometimes a year will pass without me seeing him, knowing how he is, being aware of how he looks. It’s the same thing for him, too. Sometimes I miss him, sometimes I don’t. Sometimes I hate him for doing what he did that led us this imperfect life. Sometimes I just wish that he’s happily living with the people he’s living with now.
I miss him. I miss
having someone like him. I miss the
feeling of having someone like him. I miss
myself having someone like him.
But I can’t be selfish and ask God to flip events so he could be with us rather than where he is now. I can’t afford to always feel that our lives suck because a man left us. I can’t act all shitty and shallow because losing him isn’t the end of the world. We survived without him for half of our lives, we can survive for another. I
don’t hate him. I try not to keep grudges and think ill of him. I try to stop it when the ugly hopelessness starts to overshadow me. I just try to keep in mind that it didn’t work, so I shouldn’t push anymore because worse damage can be done if I don’t stop.
He’s still my father anyway, however you put it, whichever side you look at it.
And I love my father. I love him.
Halted Descent
“I know I’m not in love right now, but that doesn’t mean I’ll never fall in love.”
© Charlyne Yi, Paper Heart
Paper Heart (directed by Nicholas Jasenovec) is one of the many movies I’ve seen online this past month, a month which is supposedly called “Happy Summer” but became just “Boring Bummer” to me. I came upon this movie, which isn’t really mainstream because it was originally produced for Sundance Film Festival (which I think means it’s an indigenous film), because I fell in love with the geeky and dorky Michael Cera and had a summer goal of watching every film he starred in, be it a box office, an indie or a flop. Paper Heart is a documentary movie starring
Charlyne Yi as the “host”,
Jake M. Johnson (whom I also adore) as the “director/producer” and Michael Cera as… umm, Michael Cera, Charlyne’s love interest. The documentary is composed of different stories from different people with only one element that keeps them figuratively connected to each other:
love. Charlyne decides to make love as the subject of this docu-film, because, as far as she knows, she doesn’t believe in and hasn’t fallen in love yet.
But tada! This entry isn’t a movie review (because you all know how crappy I make them). I decided to incorporate this movie in this post because of the aforementioned quote. I love this quote because I can relate to it so bad in this chapter of my consistently distraught life. “I know I’m not in love right now” – yes, I am
exactly that line.
You may ask what brought me into writing about my insipid relationship status
again. It was because of my best friend. One Facebook moment, he told me (through instant messaging) that he worries about me because I don’t seem to be in love or inspired or something. He worries that my hopeless and constant fangirling over celebrities and fictional characters will leave me hopelessly and constantly fangirling over people who seem to be either impossible to
attain or impossible to
exist, that it will ultimately leave me depressed and forever alone… and still a fangirl. I find all of it funny. Not that I don’t give a damn about what my best friend has to say because I do, but it’s just… umm…
what the hell?It made me wonder… should I fall in love this moment, fall in love again? Have I set my priorities straight yet? Do I even like someone? Does someone even like
me? Do I have to tell Mom? Am I even ready? Is my heart ready? Is my psych ready?
It’s been three years since I’ve last dated someone. When I was in high school, I always had a boyfriend or a “mutual understanding partner” or a flirting partner. Nope, I wasn’t a hormone-driven, high school bitch with the longest list of boys in tow. Nope, I didn’t have guys lining outside waiting for my “yes” with fucking flowers on one hand and fucking chocolates on the other. What the fuck, that never happened to me (thank goodness!). I always had some guy because, I don’t know, I
>liked falling in love. I liked the feeling of it. I liked the giddiness and tingling nerves and never-ending electricity. They told me I looked better and had a happier disposition when I was in love. So I was. After my last relationship, I didn’t care about how I looked or how my disposition was. It wasn’t that I had a hard time moving on – screw that. Love just dropped down to the lower part of my priorities.
It occurred to me that I had my own share of love and relationships and kisses already, enough to complete the cycle of successfully making a naïve tween to a worldly teen.
I’ve had enough for now. It’s time for me to resurface before I drown in this endless sea of love and butterflies and whatever-cute-insect-there-is, a sea with an uncontrollable torrent, a sea where a man can lose navigation and become lost and confused and eventually heartbroken. It’s time to have a break and press pause the abnormal heart rate. It’s time to draw the lovesick curtain and look at the bigger picture. It’s time to search for the deeper meaning of love other than kissing someone passionately and scribbling shipment nicknames at the back of every notebook, believing that these nicknames would last “4ever”. It’s time to realize that there’s more to life than just being with someone romantically.
It’s time to have a more meaningful existence… even without the romantic company someone as special and as perfect as Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy.
I told my best friend that I can be happy even without a guy. I assured him that even if I’m literally falling for
Sam Concepcion and
Colton Dixon and that I’m hopelessly wishing to pull the sexy Patch Cipriano out of the
Hush, Hush pages, I will not end as a forever alone, loveless, hormone-driven, fangirling female. I
swear I will not. I told him to stop fidgeting and worrying about my love life and the history it’s making, because I don’t give a fuck so he
shouldn’t. I will have my time again. At the moment I’m just contented at studying, reading, blogging and flirting virtually with somebody who I’m not sure is also flirting or wants to flirt back. (Guys! It’s not what you think! I’m
not registered to a dating website or anything as pathetic. Oh, Christ. I know this guy personally and I like him so much it’s retarded. I’m just extra sweet when it comes to him.) I’m contented with just liking someone and guarding my feelings to make sure I don’t walk far enough to step inside the scary and pretty region of love.
“But that doesn’t mean I’ll never fall in love.” I know I will fall in love again, in the right time, with the right guy. And when that moment comes, I want it to be a peaceful, long and happy descent.
I Write Badly
Hello, June!
I still can’t believe I’m – in all of the world’s divine meaning –
actually feeling this: I am so freakin’ excited to go back to school and sweep these units off. I’ve wasted half of the year last 2011 to unsuccessfully become a beardless hermit living with her mother. This mistake pushes me to go to school and catch up with life and education and educational life.
I already have my schedule, and I freakin’ like it. I will spend my Mondays, Thursdays and Fridays stuck in school for seven hours, draining whatever’s left in my brain to drain. But I like it, still. At least I won’t have classes on Tuesdays and Saturdays and only have Gym on Wednesdays. I hope this majestic schedule will stay unchanged till the semester ends. I’m basically in love with it… and
please, for the love of all that’s holy, make me in love with it more.
So, you may ask how my May went. My May archives basically (I love this word!) didn’t tell you anything about my summer (yes, my post
“Summer Bummer” wasn’t everything there was). I wrote more about my views regarding petty and infuriating subjects in our “more fun” country (i.e.
PBB: Teen Edition,
Lady Gaga,
American Idol). Maybe this happened because my summer wasn’t fun at all so I noticed everything that were worth and not worth noticing and wrote about them. (Also, the coming of fucking Ian Somerhalder, Leighton Meester, Joe Jonas and Allison Harvard and my fucking
missing them made everything damned.) You can say that my boredom and unfortunate fate led me to my
hating the world.
When I wasn’t practicing my hates, though, I was up to something more productive. So what did I do for thirty one days? I watched tons of movies online, listened to playlists, stalked One Direction, and looked up more books. I had this one summer goal to watch all of Michael Cera’s movies. I almost did it, almost saw everything, but I didn’t because I wasn’t able to find the remaining online. And since I can’t come up with acceptable words to make a decent blog entry right now because my female hormonal monthly challenge had begun (slash “The Red Sea Has Parted”) and my back and lower
everything hurt like hell, I will just make a list of every movie I saw online this May:
Michael Cera’s:
- Paper Heart. “I know I’m not in love right now, but that doesn’t mean I’ll never fall in love.” – Charlyne Yi
- Nick and Norah’s Infinite Playlist. I basically love this movie! Kat Dennings is beautiful.
- Youth in Revolt. Francois Dillinger is a BAMF.
- Superbad. Too much life lessons.
- Scott Pilgrim VS The World. Weird, but Mary Elizabeth Winstead is indeed a hottie.
I didn’t see
Year One because I think I already saw it some time;
Juno, yes, I’ve seen it when I was in high school; I wasn’t able to find
Extreme Movie and
Bad Dads.
Other movies:
- The Chronicles of Narnia: The Voyage of the Dawn Treader. I just cried at the last ten minutes (why did Lucy and my Edmund have to leave?); in love with Reepicheep and Eustace Scrubb.
- Flipped. Love the book; love the movie; love Callan McAuliffe.
- Wristcutters: A Love Story. Weirder.
- The Virgin Suicides. Creepy, hence in love with it, and hello, Kirsten Dunst!
- Starstruck. Sterling Knight + What You Mean To Me = Heaven!
- The Diary of a Wimpy Kid. Finally.
- Halloweentown. Take me there!
- Halloweentown II. Hormones.
During the summer, I wasn’t able to read books and e-books. I was just too fascinated with the wonders I found online that I didn’t bother turning some leaves and/or turning on my Scroll-slash-Ebook Reader to continue reading
Passion (Lauren Kate). And oh, maybe it was also because of
Passion itself. I’m back to reading it now and I’m just so eager to finish it because I don’t like where the story is heading so far. I thought travelling through Announcers would be fun… it was, by the way. I like the time travelling part of the story because it shows a lot about culture in different nations in different centuries. But what I don’t find so exciting is Luce Price herself. I hate her. I hate how she keeps on barging in the past like she belongs in it and not keeping in mind the big changes her small actions in her travelling will make in the present and future. She’s like, “What harm can I do?” And everyone around her are like, “Everything, bitch!” She’s so shallow. I don’t like her Mary Sue side.
I don’t like Mary Sues, period. And she keeps on forgetting what her main goal is. Every time she sees Daniel Grigori, the hot and beautiful and glorious fallen angel, exude his hotness and beauty and gloriousness, she’s like, “I miss him. I want to feel his touch, the softness of his lips, his love.” Oh heck, Luce! You leave your present Daniel to make out with the past ones? Are you
freakin’ kidding me? I basically hate every heroine who doesn’t act like a true heroine because they’re too blinded with love. Love sick females are the worst kind of characters. But since I don’t like leaving a novel hanging, I will finish this… and if this ends better than how it’s going, we’ll see if I’d still continue reading the whole series… which makes me remember, if I finish this, I should go and continue reading
Extras so I could finally end the
Uglies series (Scott Westerfeld).
But, don’t get me wrong, I
still love books – I will
forever love books, so here’s my list of new novels to read!
- Before I Fall (Lauren Oliver)
- Boy Meets Boy (David Levithan)
- Delirium (Lauren Oliver)
- Hex Hall: Spell Bound (Rachel Hawkins). I love this series!
- I Am Number Four (Pittacus Lore)
- If I Stay (Gayle Forman)
- Matched (Allie Condie)
- Starters (Lisa Price)
- The Chronicles of Narnia (CS Lewis). I’ve already finished The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe last year, but I didn’t continue.
- The Book Thief (Markus Zusak)
- The Infernal Devices (Cassandra Clare)
- The Mortal Instruments: City of Lost Souls (Cassandra Clare). By the Angel, this series is amazing!
- The Selection (Kiera Cass)
- The Virgin Suicides (Jeffrey Eugenides). I only wanted to read this because the movie intrigued me so much.
I have a lot of novels and series to finish. If there is hoarding in reading, I might as well be a shy away from doing exactly that. I’m actually setting a goal regarding my reading: To finish enough novels to have “100 (read)” in my
Goodreads account. So now that I have at least two weeks before school opens, I am basically running and panting to catch up, because I’m afraid that my subjects this semester will kill me and my free time, hence my reading will be affected. Good luck to me.
Oh, well. Have a freakin’ awesome semester everyone! I will try my hardest to find time for my blog. (What the hell is this post? SMH. It’s so hard to have bad cramps during this time of the month.)
a woeful & chaotic diary since 071409
