Friday, August 17, 2007

Faith in the Unseen

Kakashi by ~lenkapittnerova on deviantART
I cannot trust someone who follows the rules all the time. Their motivations are, of course, subject to suspicion. You have to wonder if playing by-the-book is something they do to cover their asses, or is dictated by compulsions that are way out of their control. I'd rather deal with the bottom-line type of guy--the guy who gives you results, not contingency plans. If it makes us look like assholes, so be it. I honestly feel it's better to be labeled an ass than a tightwad. I say, to hell with the rules, to hell with being punished. That is the essence of being deviant, after all. John Mayer may espouse the idea of having no room for squares, but I do operate in the spirit of tolerance. If you, however, need the rules, this is not the place for you. I say, long live the freaks of nature!

Thursday, August 16, 2007

Happy Birthday Mrs. Rodriguez

...Cake by ~Kasy-05 on deviantART
I just wish you the best of health, lots of money (don't worry, mananalo din tayo sa lotto), and yes mga cute at bibong apo. I'm working on the last part, but God isn't cooperating...yet. Nay, please watch what you eat and cut down your cola intake. Ano pa ba? Ano kayang regalo ni tatay sa'yo? Baka it's in the heart na naman. :) Di bale, pag yumaman talaga ako, trip tayo around the world!

Sasabihin ko pa ba? You're the best! Wala kang katulad. Ikaw ang pinakabatang 63-year old nanay sa tanang kaharian. You're a queen, and no, I'm not asking you for money this time. Hahahahaha. May God bless You and your four (wonderful) children.


skinny,skinnier,skinniest. by ~wednursedead on deviantART
It wasn't exactly a chance meeting, which I am absolutely happy for. If you saw me, I'd probably fake an amnesia or some cognition-impairing disease. Right now, I am the devil for saying this, but I'm glad we did not end up together. If 2004-me knew what 2007-you looks like, well, let's just say, a lot of crying could have been avoided. Oh my God, I am so going to hell for this. But nobody can fault me for being happy. After all, you did ruin me. I can finally put the past to rest. Sweet Jesus, that was the best gift ever. Thank you so, so much.

Tuesday, August 14, 2007

Bribery and Desperation

Okay, here's my offer. In exchange for a year of good deeds, I want a guy that looks like LJK. Tell You what, I'm giving You the creative freedom to decide the accoutrements--race, hair length, medical history. But, don't expect me to budge on the height/age/IQ requirement. At the very least, the bloke should be straight. I'm okay with You going bat-shit crazy with the little details. Besides, my birthday is less than two-months away. Say that You'll at least consider. I'm not gonna renege on the good-deeds bit, I promise (well, You know what I mean). So what say You? C'mon don't make me beg. Please, please, please!!!

Saturday, August 11, 2007

Full Disclosure

In classic Liz Lemon style,

Here's all my weird secret (and not-so-secret) stuff...

I never caught a dragonfly, either through sheer stupidity or just plain rotten luck.

When I was four or five, I thought my cousin's house was the entire Cavite area. Of course, when I got lost on the way to the local sari-sari, I had to ask their neighbor, "nasan po ang Cavite?" Needless to say, I still get ribbed for that shtick up to this day.

I used to act out scenes from local drama films. This was sometime in the mid-80s.

In the middle of one scene, I peed my shorts, but professional that I was, I didn’t stop until the scene was over.

I failed Statistics and Calculus ('nuff said).

My kindergarten teacher whacked my hands with a ruler when she saw my dirty fingernails. This perhaps explains my unhealthy obsession with making my nails as pudpod as possible.

The first time I used a sanitary napkin, I thought girls were supposed to use the adhesive side to capture "everything." In case, you are wondering, that really, really hurt!

At any given moment, whenever people ask me if I'm Chinese, the BS artist in me prods me to say, "No, I'm Vietnamese/Cambodian/Hawaiian."

I cannot take a bath without spraying the four corners of the bathroom with perfume.

On several occasions, I have challenged God to a duel.

I hate Sarah Geronimo. I know, I know, even Melo tells me she's all sweetness and light. Maybe it's synchronicity, or some shit like that. Something tells me, she murdered my family in the 14th Century. I could be wrong.

Thursday, August 9, 2007


Some of my favorite lines (poems, movies, songs) . . .
For every thousand conversations
it participates in one,
if even that,
since it prefers silence.
--"A Few Words on the Soul," Wislawa Szymborska

Passion and silence,
Every word, every line, a measure,
It's the science of the soul
-- "Sophia," Nerina Pallot

And sometimes you can even convince yourself that he'll see the light and show up at your door. And after all that, however long all that may be, you'll go somewhere new. And you'll meet people who make you feel worthwhile again. And little pieces of your soul will finally come back. And all that fuzzy stuff, those years of your life that you wasted, that will eventually begin to fade.
--Iris, "The Holiday"

Look, for some reason, Felicity cares about me. And on a good day, I feel like I might become everything she sees in me. It is because of that, it is because of about a million other reasons that she means pretty much the world to me.
--Ben Covington, "Felicity"

To be loved means to be consumed. To love is to give light with inexhaustible oil. To be loved is to pass away, to love is to endure.
--"An Intimate Correspondence," Rilke and Benvenuta

Monday, August 6, 2007


A crush meant painting my toenails electric blue so you'd notice. It meant teasing my hair, but this was way back in the eighties, before the toenails and my obsession with Felicity. Crushes meant relinquishing the teacher's pet title and making you feel like you were better at math. It meant laughing at your jokes, even if they really suck. Sometimes it meant listening to you whine about a classmate--your soulmate according to your dreams. It meant hours of conversation that started with Keanu Reeves and ended with me bashing Britney Spears. Other times it meant crying my heart out, while my roomies sleep, seeking the bathroom as witness to my pathetic existence. And then there were times it meant seeing the back of your head, thinking to myself, "Oh God, I am ruined." It meant nights of tossing and turning, wondering, praying for the significance of a gesture, a word. And now, I discovered it meant subjecting yourself to the possibilities--the good, the bad, the ugliest. It meant accepting defeat. It meant promises to oneself, that this should never happen...never again.

Thursday, August 2, 2007

Last Full Show

I'm no Roger Ebert, but I found Ratatouille, on the whole to be a palatable feast for the eyes. And while I'm secretly wishing for streaks of creativity to infuse this review of sorts, truth is, I'm still smashed from lack of sleep. Therefore, do not expect a Pulitzer-winning piece. This is just me mouthing off, expressing my unsolicited two cents...
There were of course, some very disturbing scenes--rats cooking swordfish, tenderizing meat, and the like. Obviously, hygiene and rats do not even make sense when used in the same sentence. But on the whole, the idea was a novel one. I really liked the ambiguity of Ego's character and the supporting cast (Collete, Linguini, and the-character-voiced-by-Will-Arnett-whose-name-I-forgot) amplified the whole comic effect. Relatability-wise, I'm ashamed to admit that I'm totally like Remy's brother Emile. I'd probably just hork everything down. But after Ratatouille, I don't know. Maybe, I'll leave my job and become a food critic. Jules from My Best Friend's Wedding, can you hear me???

Wednesday, August 1, 2007

Tattered Jeans

Call me obsessed, but there's not a lot of time before August 25. The goal of course, is to be able to fit in my size 25 tattered jeans before d-day. I just don't exactly know if that's possible, given the way I eat and exercise. Needless to say, I have to write about it here, because for some reason I cannot seem to budge the extra inches off my waist and thighs.
I guess, one of the nastiest habits I should get rid of is eating like a pig on weekends. Really, there's no describing it. It's bound to scare the most compulsive eater in the history of mankind. This week, I feel is better, because (1) I'm not really starving myself, and (2) I put in my minutes of working out. Although, I could probably take it up a notch by (1) doing more cardio, and (2) foregoing the sweets and nibbles especially at night.
As a final note, I really love LiLo's jeans. Niiicccee!