ISWAK

can't wait for ISWAK II . . .

Sense and Insensibility

Sense:
Going to mass...

Insensibility:
in a gold g-string.

Sense:
Aerating the car... (is the proper term "freshening" the car?)

Insensibility:
with those pine tree air fresheners.

Sense:
Bojo Molina

Insensibility:
Shintaro Valdes/z

Sense:
Foo Fighters

Insensibility:
Michael Learns to Rock

Sense:
Dragonball Z

Insensibility:
Mojacko

Jesus, The Party Planner (II)

Because I believe God has a fantastic sense of humor.

Me: What do I have to do?
Jesus: You see, sports fest is just around the corner, and . . .
Me: No way!
Jesus: I haven't even finished yet. I promise it's not gonna be anything like last year's fiasco.
Me: Fine, I want Philip, Bartholomew, and Thomas on my team then.
Jesus: I knew you're gonna say that. Did I tell you, old testament folks are joining this year? Hehehe. Samson's volunteering to be our team captain.
Me: D'oh!!!
Jesus: I don't even care that John's on my team, even though he has the athletic skills of a comatose patient.
Me: That's no way to talk about your beloved best friend.
Jesus: I didn't say anything mean. I'm pro-truth remember?
Me: Yeah, yeah, yeah.
Jesus: By the way, don't forget to dress up for Sunday.
Me: Oh, right. I almost forgot about that. What's the occasion again?
Jesus: Another wedding. But don't worry, it's going to be fun. I'm taking care of the wine and stuff.
Me: Course, you are. (pause) Hey Lord, it's kinda late . . . and I have an early meeting tomorrow.
Jesus: That's okay, chubby bunny, I have tons of stuff waiting for me too. Anyway, you know my number, and I'm on my Blackberry 24/7.
Me: Night, night Lordy.
Jesus: Ciao babycakes, see you Sunday.
Me: Zzzz

Phone clicks.

Jesus, the Party Planner

The following conversation is based on a true story. (Translation: My system is filled with alcohol, and I have a sudden need to be irreverent.)

rrriinng, rriiinngg . . .

Me: Moshi moshi.
Jesus: Did I have too many sakes when I created you?
Me: Oh, hey Lord, 'sup?
Jesus: Err, just confirming if you can make it this Sunday.
Me: I don't know, I'm still undecided.
Jesus: I know. I'm omnipotent, remember?
Me: Then why'd you call me?
Jesus: Because I love pissy Mel. Pissy Mel is fun.
Me: Me? I'm not pissed.
Jesus: You are too. And you are definitely going. That's an order.
Me: What happened to free will, and all that stuff?
Jesus: Free will, schmeewill, You are going!
Me: Fine, fine. Is Mary gonna be there?
Jesus: Yes, and I'm telling you right now, if you throw that perfume thing in her face again, I'll...
Me: threaten me with eternal damnation?
Jesus: Worse, I'll let you have tea with Andrew for two months.
Me: Oh God, please not that. I still have nightmares about salmon-flavored tea, and sardine sandwiches.
Jesus: Weeeelll, being the fount of mercy that I am, I suppose you can do me one teeny, tiny thing. And then I'll forget all that business about taking my name in vain, and I'll even tell Mary to replace that perfume she stole from you.
Me: Hmmm.
Jesus: Well?

*post to be continued, creepy boss alert.*

I Am Not That Girl

"unra" unevbn,

ofa jqrc vc'b jfacq, v rz bfaal. rtcdryyl vc pryyb zn cqrc V qrin cf brl bfaal cf lfd. Cf sn qfenbc, V ufe'c yvxn lfd. Sdc cqrc'b zn snvep gnccl, reu lnb . . . wnryfdb.

V dbnu cf jvbq lfd qrggvenbb. V onyc bfaal sntrdbn V jrb deuna cqn vzganbbvfe cqrc qn tqfbn zn fina lfd. Zl jfayu ryzfbc tadzsynu jqne V ofdeu fdc cqn cadcq. Cqnan'b ef unelvep, V yfbc cqvb srccyn.

Ync zn wdbc tynra zl tfebtvnetn. V xefj cqvb jvyy enina anrtq lfd, sdc gynrbn ync zn brl V'z anryyl bfaal. Vo lfd xenj cqn bcdoo V uvu jvcq qvz, lfd'yy tfeunze zn cf qnyy. Reu zrlsn V'yy unbnain vc.

V cqvex V qrin ofapfccne jqrc vc'b yvxn cf garl. Zl zfary tfzgrbb qrb efc jfaxnu bvetn cqn ovrbtf cqrc jrb vre. Sdc V jvyy cal zl enkc garlna cf anoyntc zl anpanc, reu cf ntqf qfgn . . . cqrc bfznurl V jvyy bnn ofapvinenbb, vo efc oafz lfd, cqne oafz cqn Fen jqf snbcfjb partnb reu gdevbqznec ryvxn.

V'z bfaal V yfinu cqn jafep zre.

Distance

The distance between two hearts cannot be closed by a prayer, or a mere song. It's not about feelings or intentions, or the intensity with which you express them. I myself do not know what can cause this gap to close. I am aware, however, that should I possess a perfect understanding of things that render themselves to imperfection, then I have already unlocked an important key to this puzzle.


Once again, I am letting curiosity get the better of me.

Look After You - The Fray (Live)

Listen . . .

I Hate My Thighs and Other Variations of Fat is Evil (version 2)

Last night, I was watching Tyra Banks yak about gams and cellulite. Of course, I was glued to the set. Two years ago, I was sporting size 0 jeans. Today, I'm lucky if I could fit into my stretch pants without butter or some equally oily substitute. What a cruel, cruel world. Actually my goal is to regain my 25" waistline before my 26th birthday this coming September. But I don't want to starve myself, the way I did two years ago. Back then, I was doing it for a boy, a boy who later turned out to be the worst type of jerk in the history of mankind. 10 pounds and gallons of tears later, I realized that there's always a selfish component to losing weight that most of us tend to ignore. Essentially, we want to look good. However, we never think of doing it exclusively for ourselves. We exercise because we're worried that someday our bodies will give out on us (boo-hoo for the people who love and care for us). We eat right because a wobbly ass isn't exactly a turn-on for the people we're trying to attract. We subject ourselves to a battery of beauty treatments because society demands that we put on our "face" before we show ourselves to the public. But what if, what if some of us can actually lead a healthier lifestyle, just because it's doable. I'd like to try that. I want to be the poster girl for healthy living, and I want people to come up to me and ask, "What motivated you to lose weight?" And I'd be like, "Nothing, I just felt like it. That's all." And they'd be like, "So you weren't pressured by the thin-is-in fad?" And I'll be all haughty and condescending, while I tell them to go fuck themselves. By then, I would have lost all contact with certified members of the human race. Nevertheless, I'm still gonna be thinner than these haters. And believe me, that's enough for me.

Guilt

Today, you'll be compelled to ask me if I'm okay. And I will respond by saying, "I am well. I feel great." Later, you'll wonder if I meant what I said, because you have seen me at the peak of emotional suffering. Of course, we've never talked about it--how you've seen me breaking down while waiting for the bus. And I would have explained myself had you asked. I would have told you some lie you'll feel comfortable with, and you'll go home assuring yourself that I'll make it to the next day.

I tell you now, that's not the best way to clear your soul.

You can believe you're doing the right thing. And the world will agree with you. But that gnawing discomfort, that persistent ache, that niggling sensation of what you feel could be doubt...believe that at that moment, my heart is lodging complaints against the heavens. And no force on this earth, is strong enough to break the chain that links my pain to your guilty conscience.

IdeaL-ist 3

I'm going to try a different format this time, mostly because I'm lazy, and for reasons I'd rather not say--(Translation: I'm way too lazy to be bothered). So here goes...

QUIRKS

1. Has to know when to pick a fight, and when to shut up
2. Shouldn't care too much about what others' think
3. Is respectful to both our families
4. Can relate to my taste in music
5. Appreciates my sense of humor
6. Can bust a move when the situation calls for it
7. Is good in bed (or is at least willing to learn)
8. Should have read a variety of books, enough to have an opinion on my writings
9. Is romantic, but not in any cheesy/puke-worthy way
10. Loves to run his fingers through my hair
11. Can play a musical instrument (piano or violin are my top choices)
12. Will feed me sweets (especially when I'm blue and emo)
13. Does not object to public displays of affection
14. Should have tricks up his sleeve
15. Has a healthy appreciation of women, but should not deliberately attempt to make me jealous

--end post, full force slack-off mode--

IdeaL-ist 2

Okay, I'm really bored writing about "the one," at least when the subject is about his looks. Needless to say, I AM angling for a cute one. And no, I don't need a handsome guy, too much trouble, and far more damaging to my state of mind. He just needs to be cute, or cute enough so that my gag reflex is kept in check. Moving on, let's discuss his . . .

PERSONALITY
There's this guy in 1% of Anything--good enough k-drama, even with the not-so-strong plot. Okay I digress (I do that quite alot, which is why ICHI* needs to be quick-witted enough to keep up with the frequent subject changes.) Anyways, this guy played by the ever-charming Kang Dong Won, is quite a character. Most women say they don't like a jealous guy. But me, I'm quite different in that aspect. I'd like a guy to have jealous fits, and feel totally human and vulnerable. A boy acting stupid because he's jealous, can be quite adorable. And of course, I'd like to know (constantly) who I am to the guy. Yes, I'm quite insecure. (Shut it, haters!!!) My point is, I'm okay with the jealousy bits. But if he turns violent, I'll put him out on the streets. Make no mistake about it.

And then there's the gold standard of dream boyfriends, Jim Halpert. What's not to like? He's funny, he's witty, he's a good friend, and he's sensitive but not in the I'm-looking-for-my-inner-child sort of way. Only thing I don't like about him is his indecisiveness. But then again, if a guy is like "I have the answer to everything," to hell with him! I'll deal with a bit of fence-sitting over yabang anytime.

Sidenote: I really don't want to be detailed, because a big part of me wants to be surprised. A part of enjoying the relationship comes from discovering a new thing about your partner every once in a while. Maybe this is an excuse to stop writing about this altogether, but I feel the list needs to be completed.

Till the next installment . . .

IdeaL-ist

The last time I attempted to write such a list was way back in college. Hopefully, by this time, I had gained enough "experience" to revise where I had erred. If my naivete got the better of me, I guess there's no excuse now, not to correct those foolish notions . . .

LOOKS

Those who know me are aware of my preference for chinito boys. That has not changed. But now that I am growing quite long in the tooth, I guess I need to relax my standards just a tad. However, I still require the guy to be taller than me, as I do not want my children to be midgets. Of course, I wouldn't want the guy to be a giant--if he's a head taller than me, that would be perfect.

For some reason (maybe narcissism on my part), I have the hots for guys who wear glasses. I like guys who at least give the appearance of being smart if I can't have the genuine thing. My mom can certainly pick up on these things. And I do not want the guy to suffer from extreme prejudice.

Whereas I used to like boys with fair coloring, I must say I'm leaning towards tan these days. It just looks healthier. But then again, I wouldn't want Mr. Perfect to be orange. That would be really creepy. Oh, and if he doesn't have excess hair where hair shouldn't be growing, he and I are going to get along just fine. Teddy bears are cute but I wouldn't be caught dead canoodling with one. :)

Porma-wise, I'm not that picky when it comes to how he dresses himself, just as long as he looks put together, and he regularly takes a bath. He can be vain, but definitely no vainer than me, or any of the girly-girls I know. He should also be amenable to makeovers (by yours truly), especially if he's being a dork, is growing facial hair, a mullet, or any fashion crime that offends my sensibilities. Oh, and I hope he's not going to go bald in a couple of years. I know it's a genetics issue, but please, no comb-overs, hair-plugs, wigs, and any weird hair contraption or add-ons from home tv shopping networks. If I work hard on looking good, this guy should also make some effort to look presentable.

(Part 2, later . . .)

I'm Just Saying

I'm telling you now, you don't want me to be the girl that got away. I understand there's a reason to be confused, but if you give me up, you will lose your chance at happiness. Understand, that this is not arrogance. I am simply convinced with all the faith that is in me--we are meant to be. If I should stake everything on you, nothing, not even you can stop me. Listen to this, and listen well. You, like many men before you, do not have the slightest clue what is best for you. Do not think, that I am taking your choice away from you. I'm just saying . . . the best is right in front of you.

Useless

If you know how many times I vow to forget you, you'll understand why I'm such a liar now. And if you possess a conscience, you'll begin to appreciate the motivations for my actions. You are the last five pounds I want to shed, the last cigarette I promise to give up, and every bad habit I intend to break.

It's no coincidence that I doubt myself today . . . I am filtering myself through your consciousness. Hating you, quitting you, and admitting that I still need you are some of the hardest things I deal with everyday.

This is schizophrenia.

Where Are You?

“An embrace from him left scratches on my back that sometimes wept blood, yet my brothers and I fought to be the first in his arms when he returned from work each evening."
--Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal, Christopher Moore

Truth is, I miss you. And there are days when missing you seems to take away from everything I have ever liked about myself. I am surprised. Because the waves of summer make me realize that I can miss you without asking anything from you; that I can miss you without plunging myself in existential angst; that I can miss you even if I do not feel blessed, or punished, or loved, or hated . . .

I understand that constantly questioning your reality, may not be the best way to ingratiate myself in your favor. Or maybe that's my selfish perspective in operation--that blessings are bestowed based on a point-reward system. But I am sure, that your silence is the most painful moment in my life so far. And I cannot function, not in the way that would make me, me.

So where are you? And how can you, in your infinite mercy and kindness hide your presence from me? Am I being taught a lesson? Am I being shunned? If so, what can I do about it? Do I wait it out? Do I force your hand? Do I need to plead, cajole, coerce, and connive to get you to notice me?

I miss you, because I'm still here, because I'm still human, because I can't stop believing in you.

Blah-bber

It's weird how a simple "Kamusta?" can have me literally stumped. Of course, I can always reply with a generic, "Ayos lang," or maybe just nod my head, smile, wave like a lunatic--proofs that my imagination is rapidly declining. Sometimes I wonder if I can get away with, "Oh, I feel 3,000 shades of crappy today, but thanks so much for asking." But I guess we are trained to say the polite thing. You know, the one that would not put the asker in the least comfortable position. Personally, I think that's stupid. We should all promote an atmosphere of brutal honesty without fear of repercussions. So if a cute guy walks up to me and goes, "How ya doin?" I should be able to say what I really feel, which is: "I'm good. I so wanna jump you right now. Could you meet me later tonight?, without the world labeling me as a hoe, a slut, and all things malandi this side of the metropolis. I say forget civility. If I'm suddenly faced with an ex-flame and he asks how life is treating me, I should just say, "I'm wonderful considering you left me for a girl who's dumber than a box of rocks and looks like a prostitute." Tell me I'm not insane.

Horoscope Horribilis

Who would've thought my aha moment lurks in the paragraphs of a horoscope column? Now my belief in astrology can be best described as fungible. However, yesterday's reading holds so much truth, it crosses the borders of the paranormal. Of course, I also have this tendency to exaggerate things and maybe I'm reading too much into it. I don't know. What I do know, is that it freaked me out, so much so that I have to write about it here...

VIRGO: You're presented with a choice. You can either feel right, or you can feel happy. There is something to learn either way. Observe the interesting difference between those two alternatives.

The question now is this. Why do those options have to be mutually exclusive? Can't I be happy without feeling wrong about it? And the alternative is just as worse. Why can't I feel right without feeling crappy at the same time? Understand that this is all relatable to my turbulent history with a certain someone. It just never ends. To be honest, I'm inclined to choose happy over right. But the kicker is that whenever I choose happy, I end up obsessing about the 'rightness' of my choice, which of course robs me of the little happiness I can squeeze from it. It's Catch 22. Woe is me.

Daisuki

Natatakot ako
Dahil binabalik mo ang kumpiyansa ko sa aking sarili.
Kinakabahan ako
Dahil malapit na akong maniwalang makatarungan
ang batas ng Diyos.
Pinipigilan kong umasa
kahit sa pahiwatig ng iyong mga pangako.
Dahil makailang beses akong nabigo
At ayokong magkamali
Sa pagkilatis ng iyong pagkatao.

to be continued...

Subjects

Do not blame me
if you have memorized me
without distilling my essence.

Understand
you cannot plot me like a point.
I do not graph
well enough for my x's to meet your y's.

Stop
with the summary of my being.
I will not suffer the indignity of arrows
and bullet points.

But I promise
that if you learn me
from the senses of your heart
if you explore me with your conscience
and if you hold my lessons as your truth
excellence will witness our joy
in the cusps of paradise
we have stolen from God's hands.

On a Good Day

Hanggang ngayon, naiiyak pa rin ako sa Wu Yen, kahit na alam kong comedy siya, complete with crossdressing and mo lei tau. Merong scene si Sammi Cheng at Cecilia Cheung, kung saan ini-explain ni Sammi (as Wu Yen) kay Cecilia (as fairy enchantress) na "Love is destruction and sabotage, motivated by self interest and greed so that it leads to hatred, revenge, and war." Totoo 'yon, at least sa aking experience. "In the end, it's over before it even began."

Memorable rin yung divorce scene ni Anita (as the Emperor) and Sammi. Ini-explain ang tatlong klase ng paghihiwalay: (1) hate-you-so, kung saan malaki ang chances for reconciliation; (2) it's over, pwede pang maayos kung gugustuhin ng lalaki at babae; at (3) wala ng bawian, self-explanatory. Actually, mahilig ako sa mga "i'm-a-stupid-jerk-but-i've-cleaned-up-my-act" movies siguro dahil sobra akong sentimental o dahil bobo akong umintindi ng expiration date ng mga bagay-bagay.

Ewan. Siguro isa lang akong malaking escapist. *sigh*