How A Lucy Should Look Like

I like this photo. I drew this and edited it in my phone one boring Wednesday evening. It simply goes to show that I have too many boring evenings. I can't wait to grow up, dammit.

The Apple of Discord

I'm nineteen and ideally, I have my whole life ahead of me. Taking into account the average lifetime of a human being in the gloriously dangerous 21st century, I still have fifty-one years to go. Not bad, I guess. Hopefully I don't get run over by a jeepney or die from street food poisoning any time in the near future—not that I mind dying you see—but I assume it's some primeval urge to live as long as possible even if you find that your life is a rather pointless son of a bitch.

 
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The Ineffable

I'll make this quick. The thumping on the stairs below are getting louder, and nearer. All the lights have gone out besides the light of this tiny computer monitor providing me the means for my last words. I can't even see my fingers but small matters such as that are better left to the ineffability of fate. My time has come. A low moan accompanied the opening of the door behind me. They are here.

 
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Slumbook Stuff

So i got a whole bunch of questions that I have to answer, and I think some of them deserve a whole post. I mean if someone asks you something like this—if you can do an immoral, unlawful, or mortally sinful thing and get away with it, what would it be—you don't answer it in about a hundred words. Well maybe you will but I won't because I'm weird like that, and I have to go into defining the nuances of the words immoral and mortally sinful before I answer. Anyway.

Questions not pertaining to me are not answered. Otherwise, those that are not answered here will be answered eventually in the next posts.Here they are folks!

 
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Shoot!

I'm interested to hear your questions about me. You know, stuff you've always wondered about me. Make it serious, make it crazy, make it creative. The best questioner gets a sandwich! If no one wants a sandwich then boo. I answer your questions in the next post, give me something to write about. C'mon it's easy. Just one (or more if you're bored) question. 

Shoot!

Father’s Day Bullshit

I don't need a special day to tell my dad that I love him. I know this makes me sound as if I tell him I love him quite often, or at least occasionally. Well ladies and gentlemen, nothing can be farther from the truth. I tell him how I appreciate all the stuff he does for and gives me like only once in a green moon. Of course you fuckers know there's no green moon. It's called metaphor.

But okay I'll be honest. I do tell him I appreciate his clutch of sperm cells getting into my mum's ova and by some glitch accidentally concocted yours truly. And that I love him. The last time was some months ago, when I had this dream of him dying in a stupid flash flood, and get this, the dream has some creepy tree in it. I woke up crying and scared at 2 am. Then I texted him and told him how much he means to me. So you must understand, I'm pretty affectionate in my own twisted way. After nightmares, of course. With cellphone load.

 
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Crocogator Tears

What's up with Wowowee? I know it's founded on horrible gunk like the shameless promotion of mendicancy and tasteless theme jingles, among others, but no one can deny this: it's fucking good entertainment. Cheap entertainment, to be exact. The geniuses who thought of tapping on the inherent sad and happy stories within each participant to provide noontime entertainment for the rest of us is simply brilliant. And cost-efficient. Of course, throw in a few scantily-clad, gyrating women in the picture and you're all set to beat the ass of more than a quarter-century running show like Eat Bulaga.

Wowowee is gruesome and morbid. All those poor people hoping for a whiff of dollar ecstatically jumping like crazy monkeys not fed for a week. All those ex-Pinoy traitors with their forced American accents saying hi to their relatives and throwing green money around as if they use it for toilet paper. Morbid—it's like not wanting to watch a car crash but peeking between your fingers anyway. And, ah, yes, the dancing women. They all look creepily alike, like marionettes controlled by one secret hand. Gruesome.

 
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My Online Friends

This is the product of a boring Saturday morning. These guys are from the awesome Man Blog, which you should by the way visit and while you're at it, do join the forums. There are fun people there who would solicit for either pity secks or tittie pictures. Or herpes. I love you Bim!

 
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How Important Is Conversation?

My mind does not work in conventional ways. Sure it sometimes works dumbly and sometimes not at all, but never in a straight line. Must have something to do with all the books I've read—I mean, all those voices of authors speaking in your head, explaining things from their own phenomenal worlds, you're bound to get a little bit crazy. As I have become.

 
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Out Of Love

I've fallen out of love. Maybe it started with the feeling of not being worth each other's time. Who knows? Maybe the spark that made me want you was just that—a spark. Not a fire, not a flare, not even a glow. A spark, sweet and succinct.

Before, I never tired being with you. You occupied all my time. I touched you and you shiver; as you shiver I am filled with a wanton joy which is almost sinful. But it was not meant to last. The shiver became stagnation, the joy, frustration.

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Goodbye, Corporate Life

I'll be leaving dotPH today. It feels unreal that I won't wake up at 4 am anymore from groggy tired sleep to fix myself up for work, expend all my energy bumming in front of a computer all day then go home to groggy tired sleep. It feels like this gig is not going to end anytime soon, after two months of doing this. I guess 'anytime soon' came rather early for me to prepare for it.

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When The Cosmos Conspire

One of the things I dislike about life is when things start to pile up in one day. I know this is a common phenomenon for most people, but for me, nah. I live a rather boring, nondescript existence. Important events usually happen evenly spaced from each other that I rarely encounter the hassle of juggling things around just so they would fit in places they should.

Today is another one of those days. Ugh. It felt like I spent half of it worrying whether I'll meet the schedule I made for myself. The order for this day: enrollment in Faura in the morning, job briefing in Makati (it definitely doesn't feel like it but I simply don't know what to call it) for the afternoon and despedida in Cavite for the evening. Sounds quite simple really, but enrollment in UP sucks balls. It sucks assholes when you're wearing white mules which haven't been broken in yet. Like I said, ugh. 

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Hope For The Flips

What makes me proud to be Filipino? I haven't really thought about it. All I know is that ever since I was a wee lass, I never considered changing my nationality nor wanted to migrate to another country. I love the Philippines. Most importantly though, I like it. Sure it's dirty, sure it's smelly, so many poor people litter the cities and so many evil people litter the government, but not all of it is. Another side to our country is the beautiful archipelago with quaint, hospitable folks living simple lives. I wonder how a lot of us can overlook it.

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Pssst, Blog Hobos!

Hey everyone. I have a Chicken McDo right here in front of me right now and it's calling to me. I want to eat it but it's for my lunch and it's only 10 am. Boo. Also, it's freakin' cold here in the office. Reminds me of those times when it's raining cobras and mongeese in Padre Faura but still the aircon in the classrooms are on to full cryogenic blast. Good times. My ass will be back in school in a week or so.

But that's another post.

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