January: In A Nutshell
This is my first nutshell for 2013. (Insert something here that says, “Congratulations! More nutshells to come!”)
January as a whole wasn’t my favorite month. I know, I know, I should be all excited and optimistic and fake a happy smile since it’s the kick off of the new year, but Jesus heavens, I wouldn’t survive in the modeling world – I can’t fake it till I make it (and hello, my
body!). There were awesome moments, yes: a lot of laughing and old movies and a sweet
blog post from my best friend, but most of the time, January just gave me stress, fatigue, and more stress. This will probably continue until February or until we finish this production. But anyway, it’s a new nutshell and another 31 days spent and lived, so shall I say, “Let’s be happy and drown ourselves in butterbeers”? (Confession: I’ve been mentioning butterbeers a lot lately, but the truth is I haven’t really taken and don’t know where to get one. So it’s sad. My best friend and I are planning on making one during summer break anyway, so screw sadness.)
(Note: if you’re confused as to where my December Nutshell had scampered away, no, it didn’t elope with someone. It would never since it’s non-existing. I didn’t make one, instead I made
2012: In A Nutshell.)
JANUARY ARCHIVES
Atypical Holidays
Friday, January 04, 2013
Atypical Holidays basically tells you, my dear readers, how I spent my Holidays. It wasn’t majestic (I spent it with Paulo Coelho but it still wasn’t majestic), and pieces of my ever-changing, ever-odd puzzle went missing (maybe they shuffled away when they saw the amount of cholesterol I was guiltlessly consuming), so don’t read it anymore if you want to keep your happy disposition; continue if you’re a masochistic bitch. Thank you. (PS: Great Crush texted me on the 24th, so it wasn’t so bad. I’m. So. Shallow. But it gave me all the feels.)
Two Cents 2.0
Friday, January 11, 2013
I made another
Two Cents! I made a sequel too early! I loved making it, honestly, because I got to be real and sarcastic and opinionated and the nation probably hates me right now! Yehey! I’m pro-RH and against the banning of Justin Bieber in our country! I believe the RH Law is
pro-choice and not
anti-life, and that Bieber shouldn’t be scrutinized for utilizing his freedom of tweeting and he’s not killing anyone or stealing your candies so what’s all the fuss about! I’m giving you a helpful advice right now: let’s move on and clean our own shits before we poke on other’s and just enjoy Madam Rosemetta’s (Rosemertta? Rosmertta?) butterbeers! You can thank me later!
Twenty One and Five
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Here is the list of five things I discovered about myself in twenty one days (I make such good post titles!). It basically revolves around the crazy production mentioned earlier, zombies, zombie jokes, corns, stress, my inability to trust, the Art of Being Lame, pessimism and a fish. And a man named Gus. And my life dancing amongst these lines: “I’m so busy I don’t even have time to shave and/or pick my nose” and “I’m so broke I’m leaking – look, the whole place is fucking flooded.”
6th discovery: I am awesome.
All Purpose Cream
Thursday, January 24, 2013
One way to prevent this blog from being an old barren is to rewrite, edit and publish old essays I did for school. And so I did.
All Purpose Cream was originally entitled
My Life Plan. It was a paper for my Literature class a year ago, and it received a grade of 95. It was a decent essay, hence it found itself here. I needed to change the title, though – it’s too cheesy (massive snorting). Another, this wasn’t the original, word per word essay I submitted to my professor (who, by the way, took the liberty to read it aloud in class) – if I posted it without editing it wouldn’t contain antics and hardcore cusses and my blog would probably throw it up on my face, hard and whole. Cheesy: “I still have more days and roads to take ahead of me; more roadblocks and rocky patches to pass through; more highways to pay my toll fee to; more people and pilgrims and inspirations to meet and learn from; and more stories and morals to collect and share. But for now, I’ll enjoy this ride and fill the fuel tank up with the dime I have. Mr. Purpose is truly scary since his last name is apparently Responsibility, but life is like a movie: it is a blockbuster flop without some thrill, cliffs and climaxes.”
HALLELUIAH CATHARTIC
“I have Jack and shit and Jack left town.” ©
It’s Kind of a Funny Story, Ned Vizzini (I know this doesn’t make sense and isn’t cathartic in any way, but I just find this so funny. It’s such a
powerful mantra. Ha!)
LOONY DRAGONSLAYER
If you’re wondering whether I’ll add another 50-100 reads to my list and successfully ram my brain, no, I’m not pressuring myself to be the Wonder Reader this year. My goal is to at least have 20 reads (and 10 of them should be from the YA shelf). I just realized that I’ve been missing a lot lately and that I need to discover other things besides new characters and another dimensions and wonderful dystopias, so I’m lying low on my reading right now.
But I can’t. I can’t. I CAN’T. I’m a lost cause.
December reads (just to update you):
The Book Thief by Markus Zusak (amazing, amazing, and amazing);
Veronika Decides to Die and
The Winner Stands Alone, both by Paulo Coelho (Paulo freakin’ Coelho is freakin’ incredible);
Suzanne’s Diary for Nicholas by James Patterson (heartbreaking);
Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson (simple yet moving – and KStew on the movie) and
Warm Bodies by Isaac Marion (movie!!!).
January reads:
The Maze Runner by James Dashner (I loved everything, until the Grievers strutted their stuff);
Zombiecorns and
The War for Banks Island, both by John Green (zombie jokes);
The Other Side of Haight by James Fadiman (the hippies and their extravagance); and
It’s Kind of a Funny Story by Ned Vizzini (it
is a funny story, and also touching).
FAVORITE PHOTO/GIF ©
Let me introduce my new dorky crush: Skylar Astin. He is popularly known as Jessie Swanson of The Treblemakers, from the movie
Pitch Perfect, which I adore. I’ve seen it three times and this particular
scene never fails to crack me up. It amuses me so much I always had to rewind and replay to this audition moment. And Skylar has amazing vocal chops and a nice, sweet face, so it’s fine, I’m okay, it doesn’t hurt.
EARGASM
- With Ur Love – Cher Lloyd and Mike Posner (I listen to Cher Lloyd because I like her fashion sense. What.)
- Bittersweet – Ellie Goulding
- Holes Inside – Joe Brooks (‘Cause sometimes, fate and your dreams will collide.)
- Square One – Parachute
- What I Know – Parachute (I literally had fished every Parachute song there is.)
- Drunk – Ed Sheeran
- And some Paramore songs from Brand New Eyes
AND CONFETTI
Other than attending the first Media Specialists Association of the Philippines’ Media Congress and the fact that it’s 2013, I should probably celebrate the release of my darling baby
Colton Dixon’s debut album,
“Colton Dixon: A Messenger”. Colton is coming back this February for a Valentine concert with Jessica Sanchez, and it’s so weird that, of all people, they chose him as the special guest. But I came into a conclusion that maybe he accepted this gig so he could also promote his album. AND I’M JUST SO PROUD OF HIM AND HE’S AMAZING AND I’VE ALWAYS BELIEVED HIS STAR WOULDN’T CEASE TO SHINE EVEN ON A BAD, STORMY NIGHT AND I’M CHEESY AND I LOVE HIM SO. I’m still hoping, though, that he’ll have his own solo concert someday. I want a full-on Colton Dixon concert experience. But anyway, congratulations my darling! xoxo
FEBRUARY ACTIVITY LIST
- Warm Bodies with Zandro!!!
- Colton Dixon gracing the Philippines with his allure
- Paramore concert which I won’t be seeing
- RCS Literary Musical
- PalaRotary
Words of wisdom from amazing authors (a extension to Halleluiah Cathartic – because there’s no other way I could properly close this nutshell): “A lot of us are turned on to God, but not too many are finding him in the churches.” ©
The Other Side of Haight, James Fadiman
All Purpose Cream
I’ve read a quote in a self-help book before, back when I didn’t know what novels were and just read whatever my grandmother had in her bookshelf: “Life is like a coin – you can spend it any way you want, but you can only spend it once.” With this mantra, I choose to live my life (eh, not really) – becoming a little curious, a little skeptic, but still taking chances. Becoming the pilot of my own rusty, little plane, but still believing in fate and destiny. Still dreaming (both with my eyes open and closed), but not forgetting to live and face reality. I’m not really a person with a definite or particular shining “dream” in life, so I think in my case, the “coin” that we call life still needs to be broken down into its smallest possible denomination.
I like doing a lot of things. I want to try different activities and take different jobs when I hit that age. I want to be a jack-of-all-trades or be a prodigy (although that’s more impossible than possible). I want to be a writer (big shot), a firefighter (real), a playgroup teacher (and scare toddlers to death), a radio commentator (rather than a news anchor), and an employee of Ovations Production (so I’d get free passes to the hottest concerts in town). I want to visit Europe (who doesn’t anyway) and maybe live in Greece for a year or two (I’m a bit gung-ho over the Greek mythology). I want to meet the great J.K. Rowling and have butterbeers with her in The Wizarding World of Harry Potter. I want to finish an Arts degree in NYU. I want to get married to the great love of my life and have smart, funny, responsible kids. I
will give my mother a house and a nice designer bag. I
will write my own fiction and have it published in hardbound. I
will have hardcore abs and less hardcore shit. My bucket list grows longer and longer every living day. It isn’t something I can accomplish and file neatly and send to Santa overnight.
Living like a sick, distraught, semi-depressed and terribly weird kid in this world for nineteen years, I still know and believe I have this great purpose. I know that I was allowed to borrow this life because I need to accomplish something not only for myself and the people around me, but most importantly, for the glory of God the Father. But what this big purpose is, I still haven’t any idea. I don’t think everybody knows theirs completely. I envy the small percentage of people who do – at least they don’t feel wretched and useless anymore. Purposes are responsibilities: responsibilities that can take a lifetime to realize and
another lifetime to execute and successfully accomplish. I believe that having a purpose is what makes our lives going, what gives us this energy phenomenon to continue shuffling in these challenging times, what gives us the strong will and desire to wake up and live. And I guess a purpose also defines a person: what he thinks his use is in this world says so much about what he thinks of himself – his capabilities and skills, what he wants to achieve, how much he trusts himself, and how he wants to live.
Cassandra Clare once wrote, “Only people with no purpose are unhappy.” And discovering and accomplishing my own special reason of living is my ultimate life plan. Yes, my bucket list is a growing bucket list, eating and eating desires like a real human being on puberty, but when it comes to the last line, Purposes always win. Screw Wants and Needs; the only way to live a fruitful life is to be friends and work harmoniously with Mr. Purpose. I’m as dubious and clueless as a wailing newborn, but so far I think my purpose is to
share stories – verbal, written, virtual and any other ways possible. I like listening and sharing ideas to people all the time. (I always have two cents to spare in my trusty, little pocket.) I share stories as much as possible, without annoying the small number of listeners I have. I actually read a lot not only because I want to have a companion and not feel alone, but also because I want to have something to share to others however weird and awful they (stories) may be. I will someday learn how to properly tell stories (without uncalled-for spoilers and prejudices) and live happily ever after.
I still have more days and roads to take ahead of me; more roadblocks and rocky patches to pass through; more highways to pay my toll fee to; more people and pilgrims and inspirations to meet and learn from; and more stories and morals to collect and share. But for now, I’ll enjoy this ride and fill the fuel tank up with the dime I have. Mr. Purpose is truly scary since his last name is apparently Responsibility, but life is like a movie: it is a blockbuster flop without some thrill, cliffs and climaxes.
Parting words from Dr. Jose Rizal: “The road is ours as the present is ours, and if it is not given to us to reach the end, we may be sure that by fulfilling our duties, the future will be ours also.”
Twenty One and Five
It’s a wonder how one can change or acquire different values, attitudes and thoughts in
twenty one days – it’s like a shorter, pressured, flop version of
Big Brother and/or
Survivor. It’s only been three weeks and I’m already writing about my January. Do not look at this as one of my nutshells, though; I will still allot a separate post and time for that (can’t spoil the first nutshell, can I?).
It’s only been three weeks and I’m already half-transitioning into this overly matured version of myself, complete with the responsibility instincts and half-optimistic, half-pessimistic premonitions I really shouldn’t have. My brain is actually crying right now, without the tears, of course (that’d cause a lot of trouble in my whole system). I’m so
tired. Even this blogging is a forceful conscience knock from whatever’s inside me. I can’t think properly. My awful clumsiness has gotten into a full-on
monstrous one. Whatever I’m holding either falls to the floor or breaks into pieces. Sometimes I even think that maybe I’m a superhuman or something with abnormal super strength that I can ruin something just by touching, but
shoot, that’s never the case.
I feel hopeless to the point that even reading John Green can’t elevate this wretchedness. I’m currently reading
Zombicorns (which is taking me forever for reasons nobody can fathom), and I should, like,
laugh or something because the whole idea of being zombie-d by eating a particular breed of corn is so odd that it’s hilariously pathetic already. But,
tada, I can’t seem to comprehend zombie jokes. What a great way to start my year. Yay…
neh.
I have a lot of things to say but I’m not in my Awesome Uproarious Blogger state right now… so what to do when grammar and writing skills seem to have ran away from you? Use bullets/numberings (from
This is Stupid 101 Manual).
One: I’m so stressed. I’ve always believed that I’m this light, free spirited person who can keep the light, free spirited self when under pressure… NOT. We’re doing this crazy difficult and impossible morning show in school, and I would’ve been excited about it had I know enough about production. Problem is, I HAVEN’T LEARNED ANYTHING TECHNICAL YET – and that’s saying something. I do advanced reading most of the time, but screw theories and terms: I need hands on exercises, experience, actual observations and proper applications in my computer. I don’t know what to do, and I’m so keen on pleasing our professor because her elusive grading system is putting my scholarship grant in danger.
Two: I want to fully trust (not thrust), but it seems to be always broken. This is the same problem I stated once in
Spearing Head: a tainted confidence that everyone can properly deliver on time. I’m not sure if it’s just me and my annoying, demanding, anxious habits, or if they really don’t give a damn. I don’t know if it’s my putting pressure in everything I do, or they just don’t care if we suck so badly we’re siphoning underground. Should I change my ways? Should I adjust to their easy breezy attitudes towards school works? Should I not care and just do my own thing? Will it be fair to all of us? Don’t they want good grades? If you’d ask me, I don’t want good grades, I want
excellent grades. I’m not the kind of person who settles for something mediocre and okay’s and barely-there’s; I want to produce something that’d give me high, if not the best, marks. Hello, I’m maintaining grades here. I CAN’T UNDERSTAND. Maybe it’s me, maybe it’s them. Whoever’s to blame, I just freakin’ hope that we won’t flunk this.
Three: I know but can’t teach. This is the same as, “I know a lot of stories but can’t story-tell.” It’s kind of frustrating in a weird way. Once in our Statistics class, someone asked for help in a frequency distribution topic. I know the equations and how to evaluate, but couldn’t show him. I just kept on pointing and talking and explaining, and I saw it in his face that I wasn’t making sense. Even
I didn’t understand what I was saying. I just made his Statistics life harder. In the end I resorted to checking his answers every time he arrived at one and compared it to mine. I’d point what’s wrong and what’s right, but I never really helped him. It’s sad; I can never be a playgroup teacher. I gave him spoiled fish and never taught him how to catch fresh ones.
Four: I’m missing a lot on movies. I originally planned on seeing
Life of Pi and
Les Miserables this January, but those plans were left unexecuted. I’m so lame and boring. My excuse is either “I’m so busy I don’t even have time to shave and/or pick my nose” or “I’m so broke I’m leaking – look, the whole place is fucking flooded”. But I swear I’m gonna see
Warm Bodies this February. It will kill me if I didn’t.
Five: Pessimism is eating me. Since working on this project, I’ve been expecting a lot of bad things. I don’t have confidence, and the word “trust” is missing its first letter in my dictionary. And “luck” is becoming swear words (both the S and the F) in my everyday life. Thank God for friends (and
The Vampire Diaries) who somehow makes me forget my non-mediocre, hardcore shit. Oh, I want a hug from Lord Voldemort.
What I need: a legit video editor, a big gallon of ice cream, a working team,
Speak, a camcorder,
We Need to Talk about Kevin, a visit to Fullybooked and a whole no-school week. Ah, suck it, we can’t have everything (what a fucking gloomy Gus I am!).
Two Cents 2.0
Usually, sequels to any of my posts come four to six months later, but right now I’ll break that routine and write a continuation to
Two Cents, a blog post dedicated to the nation (geez), its issues and what I have to say about it [whether you want to hear me out or not]. The following issues just bug me out so much that torrents of thoughts about them just wouldn’t stop
crashing in my brain all night long (thus,
eye bags).
Reproductive Health Law. The once controversial bill has now become a legitimate, enacted law… but still controversial. One thing: I am
pro-RH Law. Second: I am
not against the Church. I know we all have our virtues and moral ethics, and I respect that. But let me get this straight: If you’re not against this law, does this mean that you’re
anti-life (because those who are against it call themselves “pro-life”)? So am I
not pro-life because I believe birth control methods can help the country in the long run? Is my faith
unstable because I support something the Church doesn’t? Am I
not a true Catholic by virtues and by heart because I don’t don a red ribbon or red shirt – and that I like purple better? Am I
killing zygotes? Is our country backward?
I’m a liberal-minded person; I want and am open to changes; I believe it’s time to move forward and tag along with several progressing countries in their It’s The New Century ride. If we don’t accept changes in our old ways, we wouldn’t actually progress, or if we do, we’d do it like snails. Anyway, accepting the RH Law wouldn’t make you immoral and God wouldn’t probably send you to hell just because you didn’t fight to death to stop its enactment. I know God isn’t like that; if He is, I guess God must be irrational. But then again He
isn’t.
Another thing: I think RH Law isn’t trying to be immoral. It’s just utilizing the people’s ability to choose. There’s nothing on its provisions that orders everyone to use contraceptives or condoms, or else they’d remove your genitals and make you an old barren. The government wouldn’t assign people for Special Task: Make Sure Couples Use Birth Control Methods – Barge Into Their Love-making Escapade If You Have To. That’s
not how that works. The main concern of RH Law anyway is to promote family planning. You can choose whether you want to use birth control methods or not (there are always doctors available for consultation). You can decide for yourself if you want to have children already or to wait a few years more to build a family (nobody – maybe except you grandparents, I don’t know – is forcing you to get married and become a child factory already). You can support this law and
still be a religious, God-fearing, Church-loving person. It always comes down to making a choice.
What I think, in a nutshell: The Reproductive Health Law is neither obligatory nor anti-life; it is
pro-choice.
Justin Bieber and the Philippines. To start off, Bieber and our country never really clicked the first time he visited for his tour. He came here sick as a dog, with a media frenzy that he wasn’t able to deal with properly, an attitude issue involving a man and his CD, and a concert audience that was so lame he threatened to cut short his closing number. Yes, Filipino Bielibers went all fangirl/boy nuts, but overall his visit was a
disaster. It went so badly that there was even a rumor that he said he’s never coming back.
Oops, Bieber, be careful what you wish for.
Bieber would probably never come back again, because an order of rejecting him of entry to the country is now being pushed to the Legislature. Or maybe he’s
already banned, I’m not sure. Banned or not banned, I think all of this is just utterly pathetic. YES, PATHETIC. I know what he did was wrong and ego-stabbing, but hello, it’s the social media, and he’s a free citizen who lives in a democratic country. Just like us. He shouldn’t have posted those
satirical photos of Manny Pacquiao’s fall, but I guess he never intended to insult the country as a whole. Maybe he thought the boxer’s defeat is kind of amusing; maybe his side was on Juan Manuel Marquez and it was his way of celebrating. We can’t rob him of that. We shouldn’t act all saint-like just because we didn’t do what he did. (Believe me, under different circumstances, we already
did what he did.)
The problem was we couldn’t accept what happened to Pacquiao, and anybody who ridiculed our champion becomes our number one enemy. When will we realize that sometimes we win, sometimes we lose? Can’t we just accept everything and
move on and leave others’ opinions alone? Sucks for Bieber: he’s a famous, filthy rich kid who either has too many fans or too many haters. Oh, I’m sure as hell that if it was an Unknown Nobody who posted those photos, we wouldn’t get all hot and interested. AND WHAT’S THE ‘PERSONA NON GRATA’ FOR? He didn’t kill anyone; he’s not shitting on our faces; as far as I know he’s not a mass bomber. There are worse things to worry about and give answers and pass laws to. Give him a break.
Some Filipinos still like him even after what happened, and so we shouldn’t condemn and ban him like this. How about those girls who still dreams of meeting him in person? Their dreams wouldn’t come true anymore unless they go out of their way and fly to Hollywood to meet him. Poor little girls.
BUTTERBEER, ANYONE?
Atypical Holidays
Christmas: Pajamas and Paulo Coelho
Christmas 2012 was one of the saddest Christmases I ever had. It seemed like the usual traditional Christmas we Filipinos practice was left in history and became just plain, dead, long-forgotten tradition. I didn’t go to church for both the 24th and the 25th; I slept through 12:00 a.m. and welcomed the yuletide with a snore; I spent the remaining vacation days stuck in my grandmother’s house, in my pajamas all day, with the sound of pattering rain sitting shotgun with me in my
The Winner Stands Alone journey. The great Paulo Coelho basically supplemented my every days with his thriller, a lunatic Russian millionaire, the world of fashion, films and fame, and the deaths of prominent Cannes figures. It was a good thriller; and I definitely learned a lot from it since I’m into media and I find the natural obsession for the Supers very interesting. The saddest thing, besides the season break of
The Vampire Diaries, was the absence of my father.
I was really looking forward to seeing him and, I don’t know, playfully insult each other or something. I didn’t try going to his place since I was sure it’d be too awkward to handle, but I at least held on to fate that I might see and bump into him on the streets. That happened, but it was too dark to see anything at ten in the evening, and he was preoccupied, and okay, I actually didn’t know what to do. So that one-sided anticipation of chance meeting was painfully neglected. I miss him, really. But I can’t handle inconvenient family awkwardness; I’d dissolve from the universe.
In a nutshell: What I liked about Christmas 2012 was the fact that I spent it sleeping in between my beloved mother and my unusually sweet brother. And I met my first goddaughter Angel. And my nieces Sam and Orange and I saw a local movie. AND GREAT CRUSH TEXTED ME FOR THE FIRST TIME ON THE 24TH AND I DIDN’T DELETE IT BECAUSE OH MY GOD MY FEELS.
New Year: Glossaries
I spent my New Year’s Eve with my mother and my cousin Selene. For all it’s worth it was just a normal night, except for the scary bomb-like sounds from the neighbors. It was a normal night that I resorted to studying and reading; I scanned Broadcasting books I borrowed from my other cousin, wrote the terms found in the Glossary down in my trusty, battered green notebook (this notebook contains every trivia I find in different books, i.e. the 50 States and their nicknames, basic Spanish words, etc.); and made my bucket list for the new year (I stopped making resolutions the moment I realized that I’m such a lost cause). Near deafness, brain-pushing, tired right hand, a diminishing self-assurance – what a
majestic way to welcome 2013!
What I loved about it? The fireworks, of course. And the news programs’ year-end wrap up of every issue that rocked the world. The fruits I get to eat without guilt (I don’t give a damn about guilt anyway). Jeff Canoy’s (a field reporter of a local news program) striped necktie and his I’m Having Fun Here In Eastwood aura. Jorge Cariño’s obvious jealousy because he’s stuck in the news center while his colleagues were out there partying. And the fact that it’s 2013 and the world didn’t end and new movies are coming out in the next months and that I’m out of the Teen Age Bracket this July (not sure if I should be happy or not).
In a nutshell: I’m really excited for this year. Screw the star forecasts saying it won’t be a lucky year for the Rooster babies. I want to break this Odd-Numbered Year Curse I’ve been having for the past years. I have my bucket list and I’d start from there. I will make this my year – I’ll meet Colton and Sam and Great Crush and be an almost-legit writer and get fantastic grades and read good novels and complete crosswords puzzle like my life and future depend on it.
Happy 2013! (Can someone teach me how to properly close a blog post? Anyone? Nobody? Err, okay. Pfft.)
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a woeful & chaotic diary since 071409
January: In A Nutshell
This is my first nutshell for 2013. (Insert something here that says, “Congratulations! More nutshells to come!”)
January as a whole wasn’t my favorite month. I know, I know, I should be all excited and optimistic and fake a happy smile since it’s the kick off of the new year, but Jesus heavens, I wouldn’t survive in the modeling world – I can’t fake it till I make it (and hello, my
body!). There were awesome moments, yes: a lot of laughing and old movies and a sweet
blog post from my best friend, but most of the time, January just gave me stress, fatigue, and more stress. This will probably continue until February or until we finish this production. But anyway, it’s a new nutshell and another 31 days spent and lived, so shall I say, “Let’s be happy and drown ourselves in butterbeers”? (Confession: I’ve been mentioning butterbeers a lot lately, but the truth is I haven’t really taken and don’t know where to get one. So it’s sad. My best friend and I are planning on making one during summer break anyway, so screw sadness.)
(Note: if you’re confused as to where my December Nutshell had scampered away, no, it didn’t elope with someone. It would never since it’s non-existing. I didn’t make one, instead I made
2012: In A Nutshell.)
JANUARY ARCHIVES
Atypical Holidays
Friday, January 04, 2013
Atypical Holidays basically tells you, my dear readers, how I spent my Holidays. It wasn’t majestic (I spent it with Paulo Coelho but it still wasn’t majestic), and pieces of my ever-changing, ever-odd puzzle went missing (maybe they shuffled away when they saw the amount of cholesterol I was guiltlessly consuming), so don’t read it anymore if you want to keep your happy disposition; continue if you’re a masochistic bitch. Thank you. (PS: Great Crush texted me on the 24th, so it wasn’t so bad. I’m. So. Shallow. But it gave me all the feels.)
Two Cents 2.0
Friday, January 11, 2013
I made another
Two Cents! I made a sequel too early! I loved making it, honestly, because I got to be real and sarcastic and opinionated and the nation probably hates me right now! Yehey! I’m pro-RH and against the banning of Justin Bieber in our country! I believe the RH Law is
pro-choice and not
anti-life, and that Bieber shouldn’t be scrutinized for utilizing his freedom of tweeting and he’s not killing anyone or stealing your candies so what’s all the fuss about! I’m giving you a helpful advice right now: let’s move on and clean our own shits before we poke on other’s and just enjoy Madam Rosemetta’s (Rosemertta? Rosmertta?) butterbeers! You can thank me later!
Twenty One and Five
Saturday, January 19, 2013
Here is the list of five things I discovered about myself in twenty one days (I make such good post titles!). It basically revolves around the crazy production mentioned earlier, zombies, zombie jokes, corns, stress, my inability to trust, the Art of Being Lame, pessimism and a fish. And a man named Gus. And my life dancing amongst these lines: “I’m so busy I don’t even have time to shave and/or pick my nose” and “I’m so broke I’m leaking – look, the whole place is fucking flooded.”
6th discovery: I am awesome.
All Purpose Cream
Thursday, January 24, 2013
One way to prevent this blog from being an old barren is to rewrite, edit and publish old essays I did for school. And so I did.
All Purpose Cream was originally entitled
My Life Plan. It was a paper for my Literature class a year ago, and it received a grade of 95. It was a decent essay, hence it found itself here. I needed to change the title, though – it’s too cheesy (massive snorting). Another, this wasn’t the original, word per word essay I submitted to my professor (who, by the way, took the liberty to read it aloud in class) – if I posted it without editing it wouldn’t contain antics and hardcore cusses and my blog would probably throw it up on my face, hard and whole. Cheesy: “I still have more days and roads to take ahead of me; more roadblocks and rocky patches to pass through; more highways to pay my toll fee to; more people and pilgrims and inspirations to meet and learn from; and more stories and morals to collect and share. But for now, I’ll enjoy this ride and fill the fuel tank up with the dime I have. Mr. Purpose is truly scary since his last name is apparently Responsibility, but life is like a movie: it is a blockbuster flop without some thrill, cliffs and climaxes.”
HALLELUIAH CATHARTIC
“I have Jack and shit and Jack left town.” ©
It’s Kind of a Funny Story, Ned Vizzini (I know this doesn’t make sense and isn’t cathartic in any way, but I just find this so funny. It’s such a
powerful mantra. Ha!)
LOONY DRAGONSLAYER
If you’re wondering whether I’ll add another 50-100 reads to my list and successfully ram my brain, no, I’m not pressuring myself to be the Wonder Reader this year. My goal is to at least have 20 reads (and 10 of them should be from the YA shelf). I just realized that I’ve been missing a lot lately and that I need to discover other things besides new characters and another dimensions and wonderful dystopias, so I’m lying low on my reading right now.
But I can’t. I can’t. I CAN’T. I’m a lost cause.
December reads (just to update you):
The Book Thief by Markus Zusak (amazing, amazing, and amazing);
Veronika Decides to Die and
The Winner Stands Alone, both by Paulo Coelho (Paulo freakin’ Coelho is freakin’ incredible);
Suzanne’s Diary for Nicholas by James Patterson (heartbreaking);
Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson (simple yet moving – and KStew on the movie) and
Warm Bodies by Isaac Marion (movie!!!).
January reads:
The Maze Runner by James Dashner (I loved everything, until the Grievers strutted their stuff);
Zombiecorns and
The War for Banks Island, both by John Green (zombie jokes);
The Other Side of Haight by James Fadiman (the hippies and their extravagance); and
It’s Kind of a Funny Story by Ned Vizzini (it
is a funny story, and also touching).
FAVORITE PHOTO/GIF ©
Let me introduce my new dorky crush: Skylar Astin. He is popularly known as Jessie Swanson of The Treblemakers, from the movie
Pitch Perfect, which I adore. I’ve seen it three times and this particular
scene never fails to crack me up. It amuses me so much I always had to rewind and replay to this audition moment. And Skylar has amazing vocal chops and a nice, sweet face, so it’s fine, I’m okay, it doesn’t hurt.
EARGASM
- With Ur Love – Cher Lloyd and Mike Posner (I listen to Cher Lloyd because I like her fashion sense. What.)
- Bittersweet – Ellie Goulding
- Holes Inside – Joe Brooks (‘Cause sometimes, fate and your dreams will collide.)
- Square One – Parachute
- What I Know – Parachute (I literally had fished every Parachute song there is.)
- Drunk – Ed Sheeran
- And some Paramore songs from Brand New Eyes
AND CONFETTI
Other than attending the first Media Specialists Association of the Philippines’ Media Congress and the fact that it’s 2013, I should probably celebrate the release of my darling baby
Colton Dixon’s debut album,
“Colton Dixon: A Messenger”. Colton is coming back this February for a Valentine concert with Jessica Sanchez, and it’s so weird that, of all people, they chose him as the special guest. But I came into a conclusion that maybe he accepted this gig so he could also promote his album. AND I’M JUST SO PROUD OF HIM AND HE’S AMAZING AND I’VE ALWAYS BELIEVED HIS STAR WOULDN’T CEASE TO SHINE EVEN ON A BAD, STORMY NIGHT AND I’M CHEESY AND I LOVE HIM SO. I’m still hoping, though, that he’ll have his own solo concert someday. I want a full-on Colton Dixon concert experience. But anyway, congratulations my darling! xoxo
FEBRUARY ACTIVITY LIST
- Warm Bodies with Zandro!!!
- Colton Dixon gracing the Philippines with his allure
- Paramore concert which I won’t be seeing
- RCS Literary Musical
- PalaRotary
Words of wisdom from amazing authors (a extension to Halleluiah Cathartic – because there’s no other way I could properly close this nutshell): “A lot of us are turned on to God, but not too many are finding him in the churches.” ©
The Other Side of Haight, James Fadiman
All Purpose Cream
I’ve read a quote in a self-help book before, back when I didn’t know what novels were and just read whatever my grandmother had in her bookshelf: “Life is like a coin – you can spend it any way you want, but you can only spend it once.” With this mantra, I choose to live my life (eh, not really) – becoming a little curious, a little skeptic, but still taking chances. Becoming the pilot of my own rusty, little plane, but still believing in fate and destiny. Still dreaming (both with my eyes open and closed), but not forgetting to live and face reality. I’m not really a person with a definite or particular shining “dream” in life, so I think in my case, the “coin” that we call life still needs to be broken down into its smallest possible denomination.
I like doing a lot of things. I want to try different activities and take different jobs when I hit that age. I want to be a jack-of-all-trades or be a prodigy (although that’s more impossible than possible). I want to be a writer (big shot), a firefighter (real), a playgroup teacher (and scare toddlers to death), a radio commentator (rather than a news anchor), and an employee of Ovations Production (so I’d get free passes to the hottest concerts in town). I want to visit Europe (who doesn’t anyway) and maybe live in Greece for a year or two (I’m a bit gung-ho over the Greek mythology). I want to meet the great J.K. Rowling and have butterbeers with her in The Wizarding World of Harry Potter. I want to finish an Arts degree in NYU. I want to get married to the great love of my life and have smart, funny, responsible kids. I
will give my mother a house and a nice designer bag. I
will write my own fiction and have it published in hardbound. I
will have hardcore abs and less hardcore shit. My bucket list grows longer and longer every living day. It isn’t something I can accomplish and file neatly and send to Santa overnight.
Living like a sick, distraught, semi-depressed and terribly weird kid in this world for nineteen years, I still know and believe I have this great purpose. I know that I was allowed to borrow this life because I need to accomplish something not only for myself and the people around me, but most importantly, for the glory of God the Father. But what this big purpose is, I still haven’t any idea. I don’t think everybody knows theirs completely. I envy the small percentage of people who do – at least they don’t feel wretched and useless anymore. Purposes are responsibilities: responsibilities that can take a lifetime to realize and
another lifetime to execute and successfully accomplish. I believe that having a purpose is what makes our lives going, what gives us this energy phenomenon to continue shuffling in these challenging times, what gives us the strong will and desire to wake up and live. And I guess a purpose also defines a person: what he thinks his use is in this world says so much about what he thinks of himself – his capabilities and skills, what he wants to achieve, how much he trusts himself, and how he wants to live.
Cassandra Clare once wrote, “Only people with no purpose are unhappy.” And discovering and accomplishing my own special reason of living is my ultimate life plan. Yes, my bucket list is a growing bucket list, eating and eating desires like a real human being on puberty, but when it comes to the last line, Purposes always win. Screw Wants and Needs; the only way to live a fruitful life is to be friends and work harmoniously with Mr. Purpose. I’m as dubious and clueless as a wailing newborn, but so far I think my purpose is to
share stories – verbal, written, virtual and any other ways possible. I like listening and sharing ideas to people all the time. (I always have two cents to spare in my trusty, little pocket.) I share stories as much as possible, without annoying the small number of listeners I have. I actually read a lot not only because I want to have a companion and not feel alone, but also because I want to have something to share to others however weird and awful they (stories) may be. I will someday learn how to properly tell stories (without uncalled-for spoilers and prejudices) and live happily ever after.
I still have more days and roads to take ahead of me; more roadblocks and rocky patches to pass through; more highways to pay my toll fee to; more people and pilgrims and inspirations to meet and learn from; and more stories and morals to collect and share. But for now, I’ll enjoy this ride and fill the fuel tank up with the dime I have. Mr. Purpose is truly scary since his last name is apparently Responsibility, but life is like a movie: it is a blockbuster flop without some thrill, cliffs and climaxes.
Parting words from Dr. Jose Rizal: “The road is ours as the present is ours, and if it is not given to us to reach the end, we may be sure that by fulfilling our duties, the future will be ours also.”
Twenty One and Five
It’s a wonder how one can change or acquire different values, attitudes and thoughts in
twenty one days – it’s like a shorter, pressured, flop version of
Big Brother and/or
Survivor. It’s only been three weeks and I’m already writing about my January. Do not look at this as one of my nutshells, though; I will still allot a separate post and time for that (can’t spoil the first nutshell, can I?).
It’s only been three weeks and I’m already half-transitioning into this overly matured version of myself, complete with the responsibility instincts and half-optimistic, half-pessimistic premonitions I really shouldn’t have. My brain is actually crying right now, without the tears, of course (that’d cause a lot of trouble in my whole system). I’m so
tired. Even this blogging is a forceful conscience knock from whatever’s inside me. I can’t think properly. My awful clumsiness has gotten into a full-on
monstrous one. Whatever I’m holding either falls to the floor or breaks into pieces. Sometimes I even think that maybe I’m a superhuman or something with abnormal super strength that I can ruin something just by touching, but
shoot, that’s never the case.
I feel hopeless to the point that even reading John Green can’t elevate this wretchedness. I’m currently reading
Zombicorns (which is taking me forever for reasons nobody can fathom), and I should, like,
laugh or something because the whole idea of being zombie-d by eating a particular breed of corn is so odd that it’s hilariously pathetic already. But,
tada, I can’t seem to comprehend zombie jokes. What a great way to start my year. Yay…
neh.
I have a lot of things to say but I’m not in my Awesome Uproarious Blogger state right now… so what to do when grammar and writing skills seem to have ran away from you? Use bullets/numberings (from
This is Stupid 101 Manual).
One: I’m so stressed. I’ve always believed that I’m this light, free spirited person who can keep the light, free spirited self when under pressure… NOT. We’re doing this crazy difficult and impossible morning show in school, and I would’ve been excited about it had I know enough about production. Problem is, I HAVEN’T LEARNED ANYTHING TECHNICAL YET – and that’s saying something. I do advanced reading most of the time, but screw theories and terms: I need hands on exercises, experience, actual observations and proper applications in my computer. I don’t know what to do, and I’m so keen on pleasing our professor because her elusive grading system is putting my scholarship grant in danger.
Two: I want to fully trust (not thrust), but it seems to be always broken. This is the same problem I stated once in
Spearing Head: a tainted confidence that everyone can properly deliver on time. I’m not sure if it’s just me and my annoying, demanding, anxious habits, or if they really don’t give a damn. I don’t know if it’s my putting pressure in everything I do, or they just don’t care if we suck so badly we’re siphoning underground. Should I change my ways? Should I adjust to their easy breezy attitudes towards school works? Should I not care and just do my own thing? Will it be fair to all of us? Don’t they want good grades? If you’d ask me, I don’t want good grades, I want
excellent grades. I’m not the kind of person who settles for something mediocre and okay’s and barely-there’s; I want to produce something that’d give me high, if not the best, marks. Hello, I’m maintaining grades here. I CAN’T UNDERSTAND. Maybe it’s me, maybe it’s them. Whoever’s to blame, I just freakin’ hope that we won’t flunk this.
Three: I know but can’t teach. This is the same as, “I know a lot of stories but can’t story-tell.” It’s kind of frustrating in a weird way. Once in our Statistics class, someone asked for help in a frequency distribution topic. I know the equations and how to evaluate, but couldn’t show him. I just kept on pointing and talking and explaining, and I saw it in his face that I wasn’t making sense. Even
I didn’t understand what I was saying. I just made his Statistics life harder. In the end I resorted to checking his answers every time he arrived at one and compared it to mine. I’d point what’s wrong and what’s right, but I never really helped him. It’s sad; I can never be a playgroup teacher. I gave him spoiled fish and never taught him how to catch fresh ones.
Four: I’m missing a lot on movies. I originally planned on seeing
Life of Pi and
Les Miserables this January, but those plans were left unexecuted. I’m so lame and boring. My excuse is either “I’m so busy I don’t even have time to shave and/or pick my nose” or “I’m so broke I’m leaking – look, the whole place is fucking flooded”. But I swear I’m gonna see
Warm Bodies this February. It will kill me if I didn’t.
Five: Pessimism is eating me. Since working on this project, I’ve been expecting a lot of bad things. I don’t have confidence, and the word “trust” is missing its first letter in my dictionary. And “luck” is becoming swear words (both the S and the F) in my everyday life. Thank God for friends (and
The Vampire Diaries) who somehow makes me forget my non-mediocre, hardcore shit. Oh, I want a hug from Lord Voldemort.
What I need: a legit video editor, a big gallon of ice cream, a working team,
Speak, a camcorder,
We Need to Talk about Kevin, a visit to Fullybooked and a whole no-school week. Ah, suck it, we can’t have everything (what a fucking gloomy Gus I am!).
Two Cents 2.0
Usually, sequels to any of my posts come four to six months later, but right now I’ll break that routine and write a continuation to
Two Cents, a blog post dedicated to the nation (geez), its issues and what I have to say about it [whether you want to hear me out or not]. The following issues just bug me out so much that torrents of thoughts about them just wouldn’t stop
crashing in my brain all night long (thus,
eye bags).
Reproductive Health Law. The once controversial bill has now become a legitimate, enacted law… but still controversial. One thing: I am
pro-RH Law. Second: I am
not against the Church. I know we all have our virtues and moral ethics, and I respect that. But let me get this straight: If you’re not against this law, does this mean that you’re
anti-life (because those who are against it call themselves “pro-life”)? So am I
not pro-life because I believe birth control methods can help the country in the long run? Is my faith
unstable because I support something the Church doesn’t? Am I
not a true Catholic by virtues and by heart because I don’t don a red ribbon or red shirt – and that I like purple better? Am I
killing zygotes? Is our country backward?
I’m a liberal-minded person; I want and am open to changes; I believe it’s time to move forward and tag along with several progressing countries in their It’s The New Century ride. If we don’t accept changes in our old ways, we wouldn’t actually progress, or if we do, we’d do it like snails. Anyway, accepting the RH Law wouldn’t make you immoral and God wouldn’t probably send you to hell just because you didn’t fight to death to stop its enactment. I know God isn’t like that; if He is, I guess God must be irrational. But then again He
isn’t.
Another thing: I think RH Law isn’t trying to be immoral. It’s just utilizing the people’s ability to choose. There’s nothing on its provisions that orders everyone to use contraceptives or condoms, or else they’d remove your genitals and make you an old barren. The government wouldn’t assign people for Special Task: Make Sure Couples Use Birth Control Methods – Barge Into Their Love-making Escapade If You Have To. That’s
not how that works. The main concern of RH Law anyway is to promote family planning. You can choose whether you want to use birth control methods or not (there are always doctors available for consultation). You can decide for yourself if you want to have children already or to wait a few years more to build a family (nobody – maybe except you grandparents, I don’t know – is forcing you to get married and become a child factory already). You can support this law and
still be a religious, God-fearing, Church-loving person. It always comes down to making a choice.
What I think, in a nutshell: The Reproductive Health Law is neither obligatory nor anti-life; it is
pro-choice.
Justin Bieber and the Philippines. To start off, Bieber and our country never really clicked the first time he visited for his tour. He came here sick as a dog, with a media frenzy that he wasn’t able to deal with properly, an attitude issue involving a man and his CD, and a concert audience that was so lame he threatened to cut short his closing number. Yes, Filipino Bielibers went all fangirl/boy nuts, but overall his visit was a
disaster. It went so badly that there was even a rumor that he said he’s never coming back.
Oops, Bieber, be careful what you wish for.
Bieber would probably never come back again, because an order of rejecting him of entry to the country is now being pushed to the Legislature. Or maybe he’s
already banned, I’m not sure. Banned or not banned, I think all of this is just utterly pathetic. YES, PATHETIC. I know what he did was wrong and ego-stabbing, but hello, it’s the social media, and he’s a free citizen who lives in a democratic country. Just like us. He shouldn’t have posted those
satirical photos of Manny Pacquiao’s fall, but I guess he never intended to insult the country as a whole. Maybe he thought the boxer’s defeat is kind of amusing; maybe his side was on Juan Manuel Marquez and it was his way of celebrating. We can’t rob him of that. We shouldn’t act all saint-like just because we didn’t do what he did. (Believe me, under different circumstances, we already
did what he did.)
The problem was we couldn’t accept what happened to Pacquiao, and anybody who ridiculed our champion becomes our number one enemy. When will we realize that sometimes we win, sometimes we lose? Can’t we just accept everything and
move on and leave others’ opinions alone? Sucks for Bieber: he’s a famous, filthy rich kid who either has too many fans or too many haters. Oh, I’m sure as hell that if it was an Unknown Nobody who posted those photos, we wouldn’t get all hot and interested. AND WHAT’S THE ‘PERSONA NON GRATA’ FOR? He didn’t kill anyone; he’s not shitting on our faces; as far as I know he’s not a mass bomber. There are worse things to worry about and give answers and pass laws to. Give him a break.
Some Filipinos still like him even after what happened, and so we shouldn’t condemn and ban him like this. How about those girls who still dreams of meeting him in person? Their dreams wouldn’t come true anymore unless they go out of their way and fly to Hollywood to meet him. Poor little girls.
BUTTERBEER, ANYONE?
Atypical Holidays
Christmas: Pajamas and Paulo Coelho
Christmas 2012 was one of the saddest Christmases I ever had. It seemed like the usual traditional Christmas we Filipinos practice was left in history and became just plain, dead, long-forgotten tradition. I didn’t go to church for both the 24th and the 25th; I slept through 12:00 a.m. and welcomed the yuletide with a snore; I spent the remaining vacation days stuck in my grandmother’s house, in my pajamas all day, with the sound of pattering rain sitting shotgun with me in my
The Winner Stands Alone journey. The great Paulo Coelho basically supplemented my every days with his thriller, a lunatic Russian millionaire, the world of fashion, films and fame, and the deaths of prominent Cannes figures. It was a good thriller; and I definitely learned a lot from it since I’m into media and I find the natural obsession for the Supers very interesting. The saddest thing, besides the season break of
The Vampire Diaries, was the absence of my father.
I was really looking forward to seeing him and, I don’t know, playfully insult each other or something. I didn’t try going to his place since I was sure it’d be too awkward to handle, but I at least held on to fate that I might see and bump into him on the streets. That happened, but it was too dark to see anything at ten in the evening, and he was preoccupied, and okay, I actually didn’t know what to do. So that one-sided anticipation of chance meeting was painfully neglected. I miss him, really. But I can’t handle inconvenient family awkwardness; I’d dissolve from the universe.
In a nutshell: What I liked about Christmas 2012 was the fact that I spent it sleeping in between my beloved mother and my unusually sweet brother. And I met my first goddaughter Angel. And my nieces Sam and Orange and I saw a local movie. AND GREAT CRUSH TEXTED ME FOR THE FIRST TIME ON THE 24TH AND I DIDN’T DELETE IT BECAUSE OH MY GOD MY FEELS.
New Year: Glossaries
I spent my New Year’s Eve with my mother and my cousin Selene. For all it’s worth it was just a normal night, except for the scary bomb-like sounds from the neighbors. It was a normal night that I resorted to studying and reading; I scanned Broadcasting books I borrowed from my other cousin, wrote the terms found in the Glossary down in my trusty, battered green notebook (this notebook contains every trivia I find in different books, i.e. the 50 States and their nicknames, basic Spanish words, etc.); and made my bucket list for the new year (I stopped making resolutions the moment I realized that I’m such a lost cause). Near deafness, brain-pushing, tired right hand, a diminishing self-assurance – what a
majestic way to welcome 2013!
What I loved about it? The fireworks, of course. And the news programs’ year-end wrap up of every issue that rocked the world. The fruits I get to eat without guilt (I don’t give a damn about guilt anyway). Jeff Canoy’s (a field reporter of a local news program) striped necktie and his I’m Having Fun Here In Eastwood aura. Jorge Cariño’s obvious jealousy because he’s stuck in the news center while his colleagues were out there partying. And the fact that it’s 2013 and the world didn’t end and new movies are coming out in the next months and that I’m out of the Teen Age Bracket this July (not sure if I should be happy or not).
In a nutshell: I’m really excited for this year. Screw the star forecasts saying it won’t be a lucky year for the Rooster babies. I want to break this Odd-Numbered Year Curse I’ve been having for the past years. I have my bucket list and I’d start from there. I will make this my year – I’ll meet Colton and Sam and Great Crush and be an almost-legit writer and get fantastic grades and read good novels and complete crosswords puzzle like my life and future depend on it.
Happy 2013! (Can someone teach me how to properly close a blog post? Anyone? Nobody? Err, okay. Pfft.)
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a woeful & chaotic diary since 071409
