Stop breathing, it's annoying!

        It's annoying, really, to have the obligation to be annoyed at everything on a monthly basis and then feel bad about it afterwards. Every month, hormones in the feminine head decide to mess everything up--from logic, to anger, happiness, and uncontrollable misplaced laughs.

You made her mad! Taken from www.chizofrenic.com.

     I noticed it when I was in high school, when a friend asked, 'It's your red day isn't it?' that I was among the unlucky majority that lose their heads when bleeding underneath. In college, I realized that it either happens a week before or during the period--you know--the instance of hating the Earth and its injustice and the cashier who was taking her time to make you wait.

And that someone is the people you live with. From www.deliberateblog.com

My roommates fear my red days because I get mad easily and then suddenly stops talking to them. My family, well, they've learned to live with me. When I do tantrums, my Mom just shuts her mouth, my brother becomes more understanding, and my Dad becomes more concerned ('Why do you want it? Ask your brother and hurry up!'  instead of the usual, 'It's a waste of money!').

Because denial. From www.weknowmemes.com

It isn't just the people around us that suffer though. We suffer, too, from guilt after realizing we'd done wrong. I suffer from making people feel bad about themselves, I make them feel as if everything's their fault.

It's annoying to have to be annoyed. Gaaaah!

Almost accidents

I have this expression when (almost) accidents happen--when I trip over, almost got hit by a car, or skip a step. It was Muntikan na 'kong/tayong/silang mamatay! and then it morphed into I almost died/I could've died!

Obviously, it's a form of exaggeration. Cham would say it for me when I forget. But I never got to fully appreciate what it meant until two near-death experiences.

First was when I was walking along Grove, the street right in front of our university gate, at around 2 pm. It was the field trip season so numerous schools visited our campus. (In high school, we unbelievably had our trip to the Museum of Natural History. Seriously, the Botanical Garden was so close then.)

And so there I was, walking dreamily when this imported huge Korean bus went straight through an electric wire and cut it in half. I saw it break before my eyes and I heard it crackle. A few seconds later and there was the wire, fiery and sparkly in front of me. It stopped sparkling in a few.

If I had walked three more steps, I could've been hit by the wire and ended up electrocuted. I'm not sure if I could've died--if the amount of electricity generated then was enough to stop my heart--but the mere sound of electrocuted chilled my bones. A few seconds were all it takes.

The bus stopped and then went on as if nothing happened. What a prick and lucky driver.

The second instance happened yesterday. Now, I know how to cross roads: I just so often forget to look right or left and end up almost always hit by cars, trucks, buses, whatever. But yesterday,  yesterday was different.

I went out of the house feeling frustrated because Mom kept telling me not to buy an umbrella (my brother had mine) because it would be expensive, blah. I had not a second of sleep, it was seven in the morning, and my head was practically floating, my mind still bent on frustration and hormonal madness, and my eyebrows met. I knew it because this time I felt my eyebrows meet. (Ash said she'd know if something was bothering me because of my eyebrows. I wasn't aware I was making The Face).

To the right I saw a woman hold a baby, what a cute baby, and then I crossed the road. For my last step I felt a gust of wind pass by my right leg. A jeep suddenly appeared beside me and there were passengers obnoxiously looking at me. My brain registered what just happened a little too late. I almost got hit, sugar honey iced tea!

The jeep remained unmoving as if the driver wanted to scold me. Thank God our driver seat are on the left side. I didn't even see his face but his passenger said, 'Miss, muntikan ka na!' and I acted as if they weren't there, as if I was still lost in thought as I was a few seconds ago when I crossed a one-way road haphazardly.

 I fudging felt it. If I were a step behind I would've ended up lying down on the ground, blood and all. The jeep was fast, I felt by the wind, by the effort of the driver to stop five seconds than usual if he just ignored it. We both must've felt it. And I did see myself on the ground if I had been a step behind. That was not my ideal death. My ideal death would be a gunshot through my brain.

 On the way to school, I realized we all could've been dead one way or another. We could've been on the airplane that crashed, the building that was bombed, or the locked house flooded to the roof. Every second of our lives we could've died.

I've nothing left to say than to thank God for His countless chances and saving grace.

Hey society, I have something to say!

The face.

That’s my face when my Mom answered ‘I don’t know’ to Ninang's question ‘Does she have a boyfriend?’ Mom knows pretty well that I’m a single lady (so put your hands up!) so why would she say that?

Let’s count the reasons why.

(1)  The double standard that high school teenagers must not have a boyfriend YET, but in college they SHOULD have one.

(2)  A daughter without a boyfriend is not pretty. 

(3)  A good person would have someone to love her. You don’t have a lover? You must be a psychopath or something. Either that or you're ugly and fat. (I have to say, I scored high here.)

The amazing thing is, ladies are also pressured to have husbands before they turn 30. Beyond that and you have a slim chance of ever finding the love of your life. So my question is: why? Why is society so eager to pair up so-called soulmates to the point that some people settle?

Let’s count the reasons why.

(1)  Love is magical, when you find that someone you realize how incomplete you were from the beginning even when you’re pretty sure you were born with perfect limbs.

(2)  It’s scary to live alone from here on out.

(3)  You live as the loser who still resides with his/her parents and a dozen of cats without a hubby/wifey (Is that a thing? The wifey? I got red lines there).

(4)  According to romantic comedies and misinterpreted fairy tales, happily-ever-afters consist of kisses and weddings.

(5)  Kids are cute.

(6)  Species survival.

The last two I believe are the most logical reasons. The list is not exhaustive: go blame my grey matter and the fact that I experience society second-hand most of the time.

I just hate it. Even my father, after realizing that I can’t fry aubergine (Let me play pretend. Stop judging.) without running away from fright had this to say: I pity your husband. That’s also what he says whenever I can’t breathe without making whistling noises and inhaling in a pathetic manner: I pity the man who’s going to take care of you for the rest of your life.

Seriously, it’s like we signed a contract with inexistent (whoops) cupid or something. As a communication student, may we please use the Critical Theory? Why is this thinking dominant over living alone that the single ones have to suffer the same mockery from relatives, friends, and even teachers over and over and over? Here's what I have to tell you society: stop telling me what to do! Gah!

City of Bones: Unveiling Skeletons in the Closet

First, the obligatory disclaimer: I am not a good writer as evidently presented by my prose herein. However, I've read enough books to distinguish one writing style from another. There's also the fact that the following paragraphs are plainly my opinion.

While searching for a new book obsession, I came across this series from Goodreads. The title was inviting and it was on the popular section together with Harry Potter, The Hunger Games, and freaking Twilight. It's called the Mortal Instruments. I got a copy of the second until the fourth instalments but not the first. Unbelievable, isn't it? I had almost forgotten about the series until I visited my phone's E-books folder. To keep the story short, I had just recently got a copy of the first book- the City of Bones.

The Book Cover. Taken from Wikipedia.

I read it with excitement. Here's another new world I'm entering! My impression was that the narration was not clear enough since I had to read the sentences twice to understand what was happening. But it was okay, I told myself, I just had to get used to the writing for a smooth flow and believable images in my head (Seriously, the book suggested rough images and metaphors and similes but you get used to it in time.)

Reading on, I started to hate the descriptions about unnecessary things. Clare, did you have to tell me this? Then stuff started heating up so I reminded my nosy self to go on. I couldn't help but think of Harry Potter, Twilight, and later on, Star Wars as I moved forward the storyline. On one hand, even though I hated Twilight I remembered not taking my eyes off its pages until I smelled, not unlike the way I read Harry Potter and Sophie Kinsella's chick lit. City of Bones in contrast, was tiring that I had to amuse myself with a movie about magic and dream on about the future before getting on the TASK to figure what happened next (Note: Reading becomes tiring when you begin to classify it as a task and not a pastime).

But it was forgivable enough. By the middle I started to read on continuously that I finished the City of Bones in two days. It made me laugh although everything about it was predictable. It made me tear up as Clary (protagonist) remembered Luke's (protagonist's father figure) part in her life. The rest was, EH.

I wasn't sure what to think of the book. It was average: as earlier implied, something I just had to finish. The world of Shadowhunters, demons, mundanes, werewolves, and vampires altogether could've been more exciting but the writer failed to present it to me in awesome ways as J.K. Rowling did. I researched on how people saw it and boy, those reviews made me laugh.

Research revealed that HP and City of Bones seem similar because it was originally a fan fiction by Cassandra Clare to the former. Some reviews listed the City of Bones characters paralleled with those from HP. They also saw it as combination of a variety of other movies and books weaved poorly by clumsy narratives and 'infodump.' Infodump is the term for when the writer becomes so excited to tell you of this fantasy world s/he invented and tells every information in the most inconvenient ways (Seriously, why did Jace define what demons are in front of a demon? Imagine yourself being robbed and the robber tells you, 'You! You're human, a four-legged mammal with brains and I am going to steal from you. Muhahaha!')

What is more disturbing is the fact that as Clare wrote her fan fiction for HP, she actually plagiarized a lot! She took four or five paragraphs from a book in 2001, only to have a disclaimer that practically says 'I was inspired by Wrong Novel Title written by Somebody Unimportant I don't Remember Her Name.' Here's the catch: As someone had argued, for her to have written word per word of the paragraphs she must've had the printed copy of the book herself as she wrote the HP fan fiction. So much for a journalist's professionalism. (Link here to the informative post about Clare's fan fiction plagiarism.)

I read more reviews of the book and the movie (Did I mention there was a movie? Yeah. There was a movie released last August this year.) than the links posted but who cares.

The movie poster. Taken from MRQE.

Here are the links to the reviews:

Movie Review
A review about the similarities of the fanfiction and City of Bones she didn't bother finishing it.
This review has awesome introduction. Seriously.

I saw the film. Honestly, I found it more entertaining than the book. It didn't religiously follow the sequence which pissed a lot of fans. It also had spoilers like Clary's powers and the potion Jocelyn, her mother, drank. Honestly, without those additional information I wouldn't be so interested to watch the sequel much more read the second installment.

It's amazing how I was more interested about the background of City of Bones than the story itself. The writer had some skeletons in her closet and it was presented in more colors than she did in her book but that's just my opinion.

An Eye-opening Experience

Honestly, I didn't like poems that much at all. For me they were broken narratives, broken phrases, and broken thoughts of the mind strewn by rhymes. The fault is not on the poems. They were beautiful but I was blind to them.

In my head poems mean reading more than twice the same sentence and still without understanding. There was this Literature class that got me into poems though, and since then I've become more appreciative of the genius minds of the poets.

Edgar Allan Poe. Image taken from
www.theguardian.com

Do you know Annabel Lee by Edgar Allan Poe? We learn it from high school but I didn't fully understand it until I was in college, especially after learning about its theorized background story (Thanks to the movie The Raven, I became curious about this genius and his works). His The Raven is also a masterpiece, but even after reading it five times I still didn't fully understand it and had to do a research on it. Maya Angelou's Phenomenal Woman and Still I Rise are also empowering. Of course there are various more poems and poets like William Shakespeare, Robert Frost, and Pablo Neruda but I wouldn't pretend to be a poem critic. I remember reading Romeo and Juliet and losing my mind.

The thing is, poems are powerful especially when you have to read between the lines. At first you think it's about riding a bike and then a few lines later you realize it's about life. Other poems are also songs but those kind usually need no second look. Nonetheless, that shouldn’t disentitle them as masterpieces.

About my Literature class, we had a poem-making exercise. I was really troubled knowing I lacked the creative knack necessary for beautiful strings of words but heck—I did my best. Still, the best part is that I’ve opened my eyes to this new world. An artful one.

Mom is my Yellow

The class was asked to think of our favorite color that would resonate our past or the present, and then write a poem about it. I thought of my yellow sarong, the one from Mom, and how bright it was.

The level of my creativity is lower than my grades so I'd rather not publish it here.

Essentially, it's about how my Mom is my yellow and how her whole person has been and always will be my sun. When the world was rude to me she was kind. She is flawed, yes, but for me I couldn't ask for more than what she gives.

My Sun and I.

I've been hearing rude comments about her. Those people who dare talk bad about her in front of me. It hurt me to the point that while I was telling this to Ash, I started to tear up.

I don't want to be like them. I tell my Mom what I think and she listens and all those badmouthed prejudiced people know nothing of her reasons because they don't tell her and she doesn't share.

And I remind myself to never be like them. I hope I'll never be like them.

What I hope for is to be bright to my family and the important people around me. It need not be the world. A few is enough. Even the sun can't light up the whole universe.

How to get over someone who was never yours

          Feeling blue because the person you thought who loved you actually found someone new? Are you devastated because for nine years (length of time may vary) you felt the inconsistencies of loving someone who suddenly turned his/her back on you?

         Your situation may be different, but the point is, you love a person who is in love with someone else! You must be crying, sad, and inconsolable. But be inconsolable no more: here is the solution you've been waiting for- the how-to article that could actually channel your time and energy from mourning and feeling heartbroken into moving on (even though s/he wasn't yours in the first place)!

1. TELL EVERY DETAIL TO YOUR FRIENDS. Tell your friends how you found out the truth (e.g. by stalking). Every word, every letter, every tiny detail that broke your heart- tell them every damn thing.

You know what to do. (Photo taken from the Internet)

NOTE: Make sure that they are your real friends with ears that will listen. You don't want to have to repeat the story because they were busy doing some Calculus. This step is very crucial to the moving-on-from-someone-who-was-never-yours process so follow it religiously.

2. MOURN AND CRY LIKE A BABY. If you think you've moved on because you never cried over him/her, then you're wrong. That person made you believe in fairy tales, in Disney's happy-endings and ever afters- how could you not cry when s/he's found new love? Cry! Cry because your heart is broken and the dream you've been dreaming about for a long time could never be yours!

CRY! I said cry! (Photo taken from you-know-where)

NOTE: It is advised that you cry on your own so that you get to reflect about what happened without distraction and fake embrace about how it will all get better when all you feel is the world crumbling down under your feet. But if you think it will make you feel any better, you can cry on someone's shoulder.

3. STALK THE LOVERS. You know you shouldn't but you want to do it anyway. If the play-by-play report of their first date from Gateway to SM North (locales may vary) will crush your broken heart some more, then go: it's a free country even for stupid people like you.

You want to see them happy? Suffer! (Photo taken from someone else)

NOTE: The lovers may actually read your How-To article so be extra careful when providing context clues.

4. STOP STALKING THE LOVERS. This step needs no explanation at all.

She looks like a friend I know. (Photo downloaded from a site somewhere)

NOTE: This will be hard, but you have to do it after some time. Block his account if that is what it takes: no need to be a hypocrite about it. Delete every message, call history, or image that will trigger your brain to remind you of the past. Forgetting is hard if you remind yourself time after time.

5. MAKE A POEM, WRITE A SONG, A SYMBOLIC STORY, OR SOMETHING. Be literary, be artistic. Let the pain and the sorrow flow through you and then be a sport about it: damn, be creative about it! Who knows, you may be the next Taylor Swift!

Lyrics from Taylor Swift's 'I Almost Do'

NOTE: I need a copy-reader for this story I am writing...


          Getting over someone is never easy, even if that someone was never really yours to begin with. But you know what they say: life goes on. As cliche as it sounds, losing a person is not the end of your world. You may never be the same person you were, but who is?

OPLAN JJ: Helping my brother survive the demands of high school

As an elementary pupil, I always envied my classmates who had elder siblings to help them with their projects. My projects were all clumsy and stupid-looking while theirs were nicely done. I couldn't possibly ask my parents: they knew nothing about designs and stuff. It was just me and the right side of my brain.

Keeping those memories in my head, I decided to help my brother with his projects. JJ isn't an artsy fartsy and his low grades were mainly because he didn't submit his projects. At least now, he did as far as to ask me to do his projects.

First Project: The Scrapbook

His TLE subject is Computer IV and I don't really understand the need for scrapbooks (shouldn't they learn to use PhotoShop or something?) aside from that his teacher who sold the materials at such high cost would profit from it (This is a public high school anyway, so, pft.).

That's my Mom's bag right there. I have a messy workplace on the floor

This is my favorite page in his scrapbook.

With all fairness, I had fun doing it. I kind of missed the artsy fartsy stuff.

Second Project: Bible

I am excited to help my brother design his bible. It's meant to narrate his genesis and prophecy: from the time our parents met to his ideals for the future.

     

The front page of my brother's Bible. It is still under construction.

My (so-called) Masterpiece

The 'bible' is just a scheme of a teacher. Even though I could smell money and nothing but money from it, this was actually worth keeping (and I guess that is why other teachers made it a requirement even though they didn't sell materials).
 
This project helped me trace my history back from how my parents met, the wedding, my childhood, and the origin of my name. It's been four years and mine is still in one piece. It went as far as Los Baños so that I wouldn't feel so homesick when I couldn't go home.

I entitled my bible 'Crescendo' because life gets louder as we grow old.

My favorite page of Crescendo shows me graduating from prep, kinder, and grade school.

Good thing I haven't started on my own academic problems yet which I think is coming soon.

A Hundred-Word Story: Faint Beats and Foosteps

Every breath I take is painful: every heartbeat's a struggle, and the longer I lay drowning in my blood, the more I wish for my demise. The darkness is not helping, and neither is the cold brick wall any comfort. My heart was stabbed by a traitor: even the beautiful moon was sufferable.

Across, the busy street buzzes with life-- the exact thing I'm slowly losing. If only I could shout for help, if only I could run...

Dub-dub. Suddenly, I hear footsteps. Dub-dub. Someone's coming.

'Help,' I forcefully whimper, clutching my chest as if it can save me.

Silver screen: A look at the past

Just when I thought I wouldn't have any time for vacation, my internship ended on May 22, leaving me 17 days of summer before school starts. As you may have guessed, I had a lot of free time. I thought of watching old movies that I kept hearing about from the new ones, so let me play the role of a movie critic for a while.

Here are the list of the oldies I got to see before and during the summer break—some of which were personally recommended while the others were mentioned from movies and TV series.

Breakfast at Tiffany's (1961) - I'm not sure where I got the recommendation to watch this. I loved Audrey Hepburn here (Cross my heart, kiss my elbows!). She was really skinny and stylish. The story is about a phony socialite in New York who had a brother to take care of after his supposed comeback from the military. She met a neighbor, a writer, who also ended up as her friend. What I liked about this film was that it did not have many self-inflicted dramas some just can't relate with. I had to search the Internet for the plot in order to better understand it. Way back, people talked too fast.

 Star Wars (1977-1983, 1999-2005) - The intention to see this saga rooted from How I Met Your Mother (HIMYM). Not recently, my brother and I bought a DVD and were hooked with the prequel trilogy, Episodes I to III. I just learned that the prequel was filmed later (1999-2005), and that Episodes IV-VI were filmed earlier (1977-1983). No wonder the plot went all crappy and corny! I didn't finish the later episodes: I got saturated and bored. Anyway, I'm thinking of re-visiting the other episodes in order to see the Ewoks Barney kept talking about.

The Breakfast Club (1985) - When I saw Pitch Perfect and after everybody else did, there was a fuss to watch this film. Judd Nelson was really cute here, something about his nose? I’m not even sure. Easy A also mentioned the fist-in-the-air scene. The movie was about five different teenagers getting along and understanding their differences.



     






Sleepless in Seattle (1994) - Robin, from HIMYM, saw Ted re-enact the last scene from this. I didn't like it. It was an old chick-flick about magic and destiny and hearts and flowers. I wasn't in the mood for such.

Pulp Fiction (1994) - I asked the Internet for the best films of the 1990's, and this movie kept appearing on almost every list. I was surprised that 9gag used scenes from this as memes (I double dare you, motherfucker!). It got me really entertained; it was funny in so many ways. I still had to ask Wikipedia for some facts though, because I honestly did not understand how Jules' and Vincent's conversation centered about a foot massage and someone getting thrown from the window. I was confused at first.

     





Nell (1994) - This made me cry! Despite some critics, I found Jodie Foster appealing here! This was recommended by Lyn, a friend, who belonged to a class where this film was shown. Well, interpersonal communication was the topic, and Nell communicated rather differently, so it was logical. It's a masterpiece.

Anna and the King (1999) - Again, another film from Lyn which stars Jodie Foster. Blooper alert, it was a sad ending. I really liked this film. Plus, I got to know what Chow Yun Fat looks like! Some scenes were rather corny and unbelievable, but all in all it was great.

         All the movies here were from Hollywood. I’m thinking of re-visiting the Filipino cinema, too. I mean, I've seen enough FPJ and Bong Revilla action movies, but I don’t think I've seen enough drama yet. Is it about time I check what the Vilma Santos and Nora Aunor craze is about?

   

Guess who got Enchanted?

Last May 26, Sunday, Rav and I went to Enchanted Kingdom (EK). Originally, the plan was to go there months ago, but then she failed to file her leave on time so it was cancelled. Honestly, I thought it was never going to happen, but here I am, blogging about the fun we had.

The last time I went there, I was four years old. It’s been 15 years, EK! And we meet again!

The most fun rides are Anchor’s Away, Disc-O’-Magic, Log Jam, and Space Shuttle. Anchor’s Away took me by surprise, I thought it was a light ride that we sat by the end of it to have a better ‘feel.’ Man, those few minutes almost took my breath away! When it started throwing us higher and higher, I started to scream like AAAAH! WOOOH! MAMA! WHERE ARE YOU WHEN I NEED YOU?

We asked an EK staff to take a picture of us before we go Anchor's Away.

Disc-O’-Magic made me dizzy a lot. My eyes were open the whole time to savor the moment, and I felt really dizzy what with all the circular motion. But it was A-OK! You’d feel really secure with it, so it isn't as scary as should be, but it’s mighty good!

The dizzying Disc-O'-Magic with Eldar in the middle.

Log Jam was a short and wet ride. The first time we went down from an uphill slope, it made me scream big time. We had no seat-belts on or whatever and we had to literally hang on for dear life! The second time we went down, I screamed with anticipation since it was higher, but I shouldn't have: I was not afraid afterwards. Like, what? That’s it? Needless to say, it got us wet and scared for a while, so the ride is also in my list of fun rides.

Is my imitation of Eldar good enough?

Somebody is scared of heights. The Ferris Wheel was not as high as I thought it would be
 nor was it fast and scary nor fun. I was a little bit disappointed.

Last but not the least, the Space Shuttle. Rav won’t ride it with me, so I waited the long line alone. It was not supposed to be my turn yet, but the train had two vacant seats by the end. The people in front of me were in group of threes and fives, and when I was asked, ‘How many are you with  Ma’am?’ I motioned with my index finger, ‘I'm alone.’ And so I had to ride almost at the back (again) alone, and had the ride of my life! My eyes were wide open as we were sent to higher altitude, but when the train started moving fast I closed my eyes. I opened my eyes twice, saw the sky, regretted it, opened it again, and saw the flashing lights of cameras. It felt nice being thrown and everything, but I regretted having closed my eyes afterwards. I was a brave girl, I told myself, and now I brag about it here. Huh.

The trail for the Space Shuttle

We also rode the Carousel to get even dizzier after Disc-O'-Magic.

The sad part of the trip was the rain. If it hadn't rained, we could have been able to ride the Anchor's Away and Space Shuttle twice! And we could have got the time to ride EKstreme, too. Nonetheless, it was a day to remember, way better than my EK memory from when I was four.

The wet look we had after the Rio Grande Rapids. Man, Ania  was really unlucky with
that one. I hated how it wet my shoes.

Rav and I had a really good time catching up what was going on with each other’s life. Thanks to her I got to go to EK, have a great bonding moment with an old friend, and forget about all the drama I’d been afflicting myself with. Thanks, Rav!

Honey and some clover, please?

            I've been wanting to post about Honey and Clover (H&C) for two months now, but I got pre-occupied with other things like internship and procrastination. H&C is one of the best animes I ever watched, one that was heartfelt since I was especially heartbroken the time I saw it. It's an anime that revolves around the lives and love affairs of five (5) characters.

        The Main Characters of Honey and Clover. From left to right: Yamada, Morita, Hagu, and Takemoto.

Behind Morita is Mayama. Photo taken from the Internet.

Mainly, the characters are Hagu, Yamada, Morita, Takemoto, and Mayama. My favorite character is Yamada, she was the girl who helplessly fell in love with a guy (Mayama) who was madly in love with another woman. She often cried and whenever she was hurt, so was I.

Yamada, crying in front of a Ferris Wheel. Photo taken from the Internet.

           Meanwhile, Hagu was the perfect character. If you’re an avid anime fan, you should know about how there’s always a perfect character. She was very pretty, blonde, and talented. That’s the reason why two guys fell in love with her at first glance. The two guys are, of course, Morita and Takemoto.

Hagu's face when Morita and Takemoto first saw her. Photo taken from the Internet.

 Of the two guys, I liked Morita more. He was very perky, as talented as Hagu, and he was filthy rich, too. Takemoto played the good guy Greg, and I didn’t like him much. It wasn’t because he was a good guy, it was because he reminded me of people saying they love somebody, but then, being too scared to do anything about it.

Shinobu Morita and his older brother, Kaoru. The plot of his family is nice, too. 

Photo taken from the Internet.

In the end, Hagu chose her Uncle Shuuji who is also in love with her (incest alert). She chose him to take care of her, give his life to her, as she was being treated to be able to paint again. Did I mention she got into a life-changing accident?

            H&C is, relatively, a short anime compared to Inu Yasha and Naruto, but since it wasn’t fantasy, it was enough. The ending would leave you hanging, but needless to say, all of the characters reached their dreams. In my opinion, that is. 

Suckers for beauty

Some people would argue that beauty is skin-deep, that it is one's personality that matters. But who are we kidding? Just as Taylor Swift said in her song Lucky One, 'Everybody loves pretty. Everybody loves cool.'

If it is talent alone that decides a person's career, we'd have many not-so-good-looking singers, ugly actresses, and fat models on TV. In real life though, to be successful we are pressured to look good according to society's standards. That is why our famous celebrities have unattainable perfect faces.

How we appreciate beauty

To tell you more accurately about how we appreciate beauty, I'd give you a specific phenomenon I experienced.

It all started in sophomore year, when our dorm serviced wi-fi. Ash and I would use her laptop to browse through Facebook to search for the prettiest girls we knew and then decide how beautiful  they were.

Just to clarify, nothing here is weird. We simply appreciated our acquaintances' beauty so much that we'd boast about them to each other. It became some kind of competition on who knew the prettiest girl on the planet. Sad to say, it ended as fast as it started. It was a one-day competition in which we realized we had different types of girls we liked.

However, it didn't end there. Recently, in our new dorm, our roommate Cham brought a magical broadband modem, and although it was the slowest I had ever encountered, it worked. Not surprisingly, they searched the pages of their good-looking lady friends. I was reviewing for a long exam so I wasn't a participant but a mere spectator who would give them approval or otherwise.

Shin Min-Ah, a famous Korean actress who played the role of Mi Ho from My Girlfriend is a  Gumiho. Photo taken from the Internet.

Cham never brought the magical stick again, but then on our own, we started to download photos of pretty celebrities, shared them via bluetooth, and gazed at the images in our phones until we were out of the trance. In fact, we'd download photos even of the non-celebrities so long as they were beautiful. Maybe it was stalker-like, but to us three, we were merely looking at the faces who did and who would make it big in life.

The Media

Perhaps we did this because we were in awe of their beauty. Either that or deep inside, we actually wanted to be as pretty, sexy, and perfect as the pretty people probably were.

With this realization, I find it disturbing and would like to blame the Western Popular Culture I so adore. Show by show and advertisement by advertisement, the media would portray the certain kind of perfectness we are supposed to follow. We use whitening soaps, moisturizing lotion, and oil-control face wash for this reason--to be beautiful--because women are meant to be as gorgeously appealing as American models.

Jennifer Lawrence, one of Hollywood's prettiest face today. She played Katniss from The Hunger Games, and she received an Oscar from playing Tiffany of the Silver Lining's Playbook. Photo also taken from the Internet.

Even in China, people are becoming major Western Pop Culture consumers. Signature brands of the US are making their way to foreign malls. I also saw on National Geographic how surgery was becoming more and more famous to the Chinese. One of their most famous actress had her eyes widened, her eyelids doubled, and who knows what else she did to her whole face. You get the idea.

The Average Joes

We are then, left with the conclusion that we are indeed suckers for beauty. We want what we see on TV. So what do we do aside from buying products that could make or break our chances?

Some of us become anorexic. Some of us develop low self-esteem and some of us are pressured to the extent that we go under the knife. Some would post photos on Facebook to fish for the necessary compliments for boost.

Nonetheless, some of us would focus on what we do best and thank God for the imperfect face and body. Some of us would still make it big even without the pleasantries. Some would still eat chocolates to be happy and not mind the pounds.

Just as it depends on who is looking to appreciate art, it depends on who is using the media to be affected. We should learn to be critical on what we see and hear, and on what we accept as norms and goals. We are affected to some extent, but all of us are ourselves responsibility.


We live in a society we didn't choose. We live by the kind of rules we didn't agree on. Our lives are shaped by the community, yes, but our success lies on our hands and the strength of our faith. Not all of us may be beautiful, not all of us may have the edge, but maybe we should think of beauty as more of an 'advantage' than a requirement. A few some may have it, but not all have the heart. Also, not everyone who is adored is happy. Quoting Swift's same song: 'You don't feel pretty. You just feel used.'

My true love

Reading was not my hobby until my best buddy in high school persuaded me to try Rosamunde Pilcher's Come Home. That was in 2008, when I thought I'd never finish a book. But I did--which felt rewarding--and I was so proud I wanted everyone to know I finished a real book. Not a Sweet Dreams one, but a real one! And com'on, I perfectly understood what the characters were saying!

Since then, my best friend and I started reading every novel Rosamunde Pilcher ever made. We also read the other novels in the condensed Reader's Digest Jet's aunt gave her, and we enjoyed talking about the stories afterwards.

It was in high school when I started reading novels, and I'd forever be thankful to my best friend who persuaded me. If she hadn't, I'd be missing a huge part of my life.

Although it is not a hobby as cool as volleyball, Kung Fu, or whatever, reading is the only thing I do constantly. Not that I read every single day, but not a long time pass by without me finishing a book or a series of it. My academic grades can attest to this, because I'd rather read than study. In high school, before the UPCAT, I even prioritized a book over reviewing--which is probably why I skipped a lot in the Math section and answered all the blanks with B, because I heard Bs on Math exams are for sure.

But why are some people so hung up with reading? Reading is almost the same as entering a new world, meeting new people, and being to different places. Some you'd like, some you wouldn't. And even though I am not good enough to be a critic, if a storyteller has bad ears for narratives, why bother for so long? Unless you're as nosy as I am when it comes to endings, there's no need to stay in a world with bad storytellers.

Pride and Prejudice is one of the best books I have ever read.

And just the same with music, I don't patronize one genre of novels. I've read a lot of fiction from Mystery, Horror, Romance, Classics, and Chick Lit. However, I'm not rich enough to buy the books I like. Since I can't afford to buy printed books, I download e-books instead. If reading is something you're passionate about, it wouldn't matter if you had to read on your cellphone or your computer, even though paper would really smell nice.

This is the exact cover of the book I borrowed from Jet.

For example, I read the Sorcerer's Stone and The Prisoner of Azkaban in borrowed soft-bounds, but I finished the Harry Potter series on a China Phone that could read e-books in the .txt format. When I had a Java-enabled phone, I downloaded the Hunger Games in .jar, and now that I have a smartphone, PDF files would do. As my phones evolved, so did my e-books.

I'd assume that you see now the reason for this entry's title. If it's true love, it wouldn't matter how it appears because it's the inside that counts. I hope you have found yours just as I have found mine, because you see, my love takes me places I never thought I'd be in.

Hungover over the Ferris wheel

Have you ever felt so happy for a short period of time that even after the experience, the happiness would still sting and you'd be hungover for about a day or two?

That was how I felt when I rode the Ferris wheel with my friends during the Feb Fair 2013.

I've only ridden the wheel twice. Once when I was four, and the last was during the fair. That’s a 14-year difference. It’s a good thing because it explains my overreaction that I even had to blog about it.

Riding it was a spur-of-the-moment. One minute Ash, Cham, and I were roaming around the park, then the next we were waiting in line to ride the Ferris wheel. By the time we got in, Ash was screaming her lungs out to let out her anxiety. Cham was rocking us back and forth, which is why we got scolded. Rocking was prohibited.

Cham, Ash, and I chilling at the fast-turning Ferris wheel.

And then slowly, the wheel turned. Before we knew it we were high up and I could see through Baker Hall (which was nothing but trees, of course). On top, I saw the fair below shrink...and shrink...and then become big again as we go down. It was ecstatic and with the bright lights and music, it was like… magic. The Freedom Park was filled with busy people who looked like ants. There was the tiny sound of music from the band then the rest were the screams of Ash and Cham. I was shouting, “ANG SAYA! ANG SAYA!” for like ten thousand times. I kind of exaggerated there.

The fair below with teeny tiny ants.

The people in front were screaming their lungs out, too.

For some reason, Cham managed to take photos. Some were blurred, but do understand that she took it with a camera phone, and it was nighttime. All the photos here were taken by Cham.

Anyway, it was such a fun experience, being high up gave me feelings of excitement and fear, something I haven’t felt a long time. We went rounds for a while, and then suddenly it was over. Stepping down, I thought instantly that I’d blog about it even if it took me weeks. I also thought of buying myself a Ferris wheel, which is kind of crazy but fun and reasonable. Imagine, all the kids would come to our house because of the ride, and then they’d be so happy that they might even blog about it, too! But of course I still have to think of a place where to put it, and then there’s also maintenance…

Okay. Maybe—just maybe—buying one was expensive and unreasonable. Which is why I thought maybe in the future--in God’s will--maybe I’d ride more of them? And maybe I’d blog about the ride again because it’s the only reasonable ride worth talking about.

Love and other matters

If you ask me what love is, it will take too much time and space to explain. But I won’t give up on you, which is why on a single paragraph, here is what love means to me:

Love is when God created you because He trusts you; love is when your parents work hard for your welfare; love is when your brother lets you sleep on his side of the bed; and, love is when you let your friends bully you because they’re allowed to.

I have a long list, but I’d rather not enumerate them all. Besides, the deal was that I’d define it in a paragraph which I already did. Now for other matters, these are the things that blur the meaning of love.

For example, the time you didn't keep your promise to God, the time you fought with your parents because they didn't understand why you were acting childish, the time you yelled at your brother because he wouldn't respect you, and the time your friends bullied you way too much that the pain lingered.

I also have a long list of other matters but I won’t expound on it because I didn't expound on love.

Simply, I just want to say that no matter how blurry, you must still acknowledge the presence of love. Despite all the hate, all the anger, all the sadness, and all the hurt, still you must tell yourself that surely, somebody somewhere appreciates you. Still you must tell yourself that you’re not hopeless because God still gives you the right to exist.

No matter how hard, no matter how unreasonable people are, no matter how they hurt you, still you must look forward and say that beyond the clouds, there is a kind of Love who won’t leave you if all else fails.

I tell you this not because I am a positive person who intends to write a whole book about the good life. If you know me, you probably think that it’s not my thing. I’m posting this for my future self, too, if all else fails because to tell you the truth, I've seen a glimpse of the dark side—the emotional, self-consuming guilt, and the erupting feeling of emptiness. When everything goes wrong, look up and tell yourself that you’re here for a reason even after people degrade you as a kind of trash they enjoy stepping on.

The world according to my ears

         Music isn't my life but it's a huge part of it. I recall my elementary and high school memories by associating them with songs. For example, it was in grade two when Salbakuta became popular (which reminds me that our room gets flooded back then) and it was in second year high school when Your Guardian Angel became a huge hit (the year we had a play and I brought the props).

I don’t patronize just one kind of music. As much as possible, I try to appreciate them all. (Except hard rock. Sorry. I’m not there yet.)

The kind of music I listen to depends on my mood, and my mood depends on what's in my playlist. A while ago I listened to The Scientist by Coldplay, and instantly there was heaviness in my chest. Instantly I felt frustration, loneliness, and failure. Self-hatred became my thing. Literally, all of my imperfectness entered my mind and there was the self-crap realization. (This is getting dramatic, but today didn't go well. I couldn't impress a certain person who thinks lowly of me, and it was getting hard to deceive myself that everything was OK.)

Anyway, after that I played Run by Snow Patrol. Suddenly, memories of past happiness flowed through my mind. That song reminded me of a girl who is my sister, best friend, and confidant. Somehow we're losing contact. Someday, maybe, she'd return and we'd be okay again.

I listen to a lot of pop songs. In fact, they occupy most space in my phone. I am a fan of some ‘bitch who writes songs about all her relationships.’ Truly, Taylor Swift has to fix herself, but one does not simply deny the creativity of her lyrics. Her lyrics are like Jessica Zafra’s prose in my head. This is just my opinion, don’t hate me because of this or I’ll cry.

Taylor Swift always looks pretty. Photo taken from the Internet.

The Script and OneRepublic are awesome bands! Coldplay is nice, but some of their songs are hard to sing (like Clocks for example-- it’s mostly instruments). Alicia Keys is also talented. Her songs are old, but they still get to me.

The Script being cool. Photo taken from the Internet.

Ed Sheeran has soothing voice although his lyrics are… artistically green (if you know what I mean). I patronize OPM as well. Yeng Constantino is our own version of Taylor Swift—creative lyrics, relate-able love songs, and guitar in one. But currently there's this woman whose voice I just love.

I was searching about Les Miserables--awesome movie--when I stumbled upon Lea Salonga. I watched her performance as Eponine, Fantine, and Kim on YouTube, and my golly, I was flipped!

         Why haven't I been listening to her before? She is a techie, she's married to a man she knew was the one by thinking to herself 'Why didn't I meet him in the beginning?' and she can cook. She can attach a doorknob, too!

          Now I know why Anna Oposa loves her very much.

          Here's a photo of her I got from the net playing Eponine of Les Miserables.

Lea Salonga playing Eponine. Photo was taken from the Internet.

           Isn't she just pretty?