Tuesday, January 4, 2011

An Apology to 2010

2010 had a profound effect on my blogging. It was a year of little to no posts, 365 days of willing myself to write something interesting, just hours and hours of staring at the screen all day.

2010 was a year of introspection, making sure that my moral compass - though badly worn and in dire need of an upgrade - was still in working order. It was a year of genuine regret juxtaposed with moments of uncorrupted joy; a year for friendships lost and gained; the perfect year for new beginnings and laying down roots.

2010 saw me getting engaged to the man I love. The occasion wasn't marked by anything extraordinary. There wasn't any of this or this or this but it didn't matter because in that moment, our happiness was second to none. In terms of making adult decisions, this was a step in the right direction. But more than that, this engagement proved that God answered our prayers.

2010 had me steering my career in a new direction. In June, I was hired by a company that gave me enough room to flex my writing muscles. I met new people, befriended most, found my footing in an environment populated by younger people. Some days, I barely had the energy to keep up with the demands of work. But for the most part, I was happy to have found another home.

2010, sadly, didn't do anything to cure me of my procrastinating ways. Even worse, I was and still am the poster girl for ningas cogon. Truth be told, this post was meant to be published on January 1 but the opportunity to write at leisure didn't present itself until today. I had planned to blog profusely in 2011 but maybe I was too ambitious.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

The Weird Uncle

It’s probably absurd comparing myself to the weird uncle. You know, the guy who gets invited to all the family events, not because he’s fucking amazing to have around but because somebody (usually a mom) feels sorry for the poor bastard, even if he does make all the other family members feel uncomfortable. I guess I’m that guy now. Well, at least in the office, I am. Surrounded by young blood – absolutely the best people you can possibly meet with nary an ounce of meanness – I find myself desperately wanting to get jiggy with them like it’s 1998. It’s depressing being hella old.

No, not this guy!

I’m Uncle Joey on downers. Not funny.

Now, I’m not exactly sure how accepting an office environment is of weird uncles. Realizing that I’m one has been sort of the easy part. Coming to terms with it will take longer I suppose, but only because the young folks in the office are super nice. They enable my delusions that allow me to believe I can still get down, get down, and move it all around with them a la BSB circa ‘96.

Friday, October 1, 2010

The Perfect Comeback, 9 Months Too Late

fuck you by ~tuhinchowdhury on deviantART

Disclaimer: I don't have a Tumblr account. I'm thinking of getting one after this.

5857) I’m not always going to be a good friend. I am going to fuck up. I am going to make mistakes. I am going to lose my temper. I am going to get angry. I am going to get depressed. I am going to freak out. I am going to put others before you sometimes. I am going to ignore you on occasion. I am going to be a bitch. I am going to keep things from you. I am going to lie to you. I am going to be myself, and if you don’t like that, then I’m not forcing you to do anything - I am not forcing you to talk to me or sit with me or be nice to me or like me or even go near me. So if you don’t want to deal with who I am and all my flaws, then you can fuck off.

(Reposted from: http://ithinkicanthink.tumblr.com/post/861160579/5857-im-not-always-going-to-be-a-good-friend-i-am)

Fuck yeah!

Friday, September 24, 2010

Saturday, August 21, 2010

111 Percent


To the woman who owns this blog, and my heart …

Yes, it hasn’t been easy lately. But as you’ve said, we’ll take our suckiest days together over not being with each other.

I think we’ve become different people in the sense that we have another person to care for besides ourselves. And we are no longer islands. There’s no more Melandia or Normandy. Just Poypotopia.

I try to always be there for you because I don’t want to miss a single minute. Some say that a couple seeing each other everyday is bad for the relationship. I don’t buy that for one second because married people live under one roof. But it is true that a little alone time won’t hurt.

You’re too generous. I’m not as kind as you say I am. But I try to be a decent human being.

I don’t think you’re selfish. I know you’re giving this everything you’ve got and I am thankful for that. I think I’m the more selfish one because I’m overprotective and can be quite demanding. And since I acknowledge that I can be selfish, I try to make an effort to put your needs above mine. Even if it may hurt sometimes, because that’s the essence of giving.

You’re always good to me, even when I’m at my worst, and that’s more than I deserve. You sacrifice daily to keep our routine. You put up with my idionsyncrasies and make an effort to work on your issues. The tears you shed you swiftly replace with a reassuring smile, to say that it’s alright.

I promise that I won’t stop trying. I owe it to you and to myself.

A promise is a promise. Sealed with a pinkie swear. And a chuu.

Monday, August 2, 2010

Project 10 Pan

I have so much shit to get rid of. Mine would have to be Project 50 Pan. Seriously, I should not be allowed near an ATM. Shopping is the devil!

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

The Ultimate Showdown: My Sony Ericsson W660i vs the HTC HD Mini

Proving that the technology gods have a wicked sense of humor, I, the acclaimed quasi technophobe has been chosen to test a smartphone. Which one, you ask? As a firm believer in the 1 picture = 1000 words equation, let me present for your collective nerdgasm, the HTC HD Mini:

Now, I've had HTC's Mini for seven days, make that eight (editing deities, you'll be the death of me). And my initial impressions are documented here for those who have IQ points to shave or brain cells to damage. At this point, I think it's only fair to introduce the Mini's fiercest competition (at least in my heart, where everything counts), the Sony Ericsson W660i:

Page 1 in the annals of badassery

And now for the tale of the tape, here be the pertinent statistics:

No concluding statements yet, as there are still aspects of this showdown I haven't fully investigated. All I can say is, stay tuned for part deux of this battle.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

A Love Letter – Sort Of


It’s a tragedy, this crippling need to say the right words at the right time, especially for someone who has spent most of her life cataloging emotions, organizing thoughts and basically mistrusting her judgment of people’s characters. It’s a shame, my shame that I am constantly disappointing people. From my hatred of serious discussions to my inappropriate use of humor, this to deflect attempts at involving me in discussions – discussions that could turn serious at any given moment, makes me a hopeless case. It is, as they say, unfortunate.

So, change. Of the people I disappoint on a regular basis, I’m quite sure this has often crossed their minds. Disappointing, I may be, but dense I am not. Change, however, is as unappealing to me as being part of a serious discussion I cannot get out of. I have learned to accept myself and have never expected of people – the same group I disappoint on a regular basis, even the tiniest measure of understanding for my shortcomings. It’s only now that I have really started to care. See, when your significant other is severely hurt by your emotional vacuity, you try to get over your aversion to things.

And that’s where I am today; getting over my initial dislike of serious conversations and change. Trying, because I have taken a really long look at what I have now and realized that resisting change can cost me everything. Out of all the realizations I have had in all my 28 years, this is perhaps the most liberating, having come from a place of pure love instead of fear or insecurity.

Indulge me now, as I deviate from 28 years of disappointing behavior.


I love you, Francis Norman M. Lucas.

Happy 138th.


Friday, November 13, 2009

Dribble, Drabble, Droubble


A/N: Unbetaed.
Disclaimer: I disclaim.


There isn’t one decision that changes one’s life. Not a singular yes or no that pulls everything along with it, building your life or making it more insignificant than a mere dot in the cosmos. In choosing to be with that person, you’re agreeing to a million yeses, maybe more.


He’s still getting used to her stubbornness. But he’s a clever guy and he’s found ways to work around her mulish behavior. When she says she doesn’t want to eat, for example, he doesn’t wax rhapsodic about the merits of nutrition and what have you, just smiles and makes her pinky swear to tell him whenever she’s feeling hungry. For her part, she’s relearning what it means to be in a relationship again and how she’s not going to let anything or anyone screw it up. And if that means moving her thumb to seal a promise, so be it.


Boyish girl Potpot met girly boy Popoy once upon a rainy night. She was wearing a blue dress and he was wearing something that looked like a decent outfit for a womanly man. Popoy didn’t like Potpot at first sight because he thought her hair too fluffy and her bag too big to actually be of use. For her part, Potpot was quite taken with Popoy, even though he was late (30 minutes to be exact) and was clueless enough to make her walk in the rain for what seemed like hours. They did make it to the restaurant though, armed with umbrellas and a grim determination to end the evening on a positive note. Unfortunately, dinner proved uneventful, at least for Potpot, who didn’t really care for her rice with seafood swimming in coconut milk and spicy oil. The same couldn’t be said of Popoy, who devoured every bit of his salmon belly, which he washed down with grape juice. Nevertheless, both agreed that the conversation was illuminating, even if he did reveal too much about his ex and she went on and on about her weird family…

It had taken days before Popoy asked Potpot for another date.