Who I Am

I've been listing some stuff I figured out recently about myself. An inner inspection of my quirks, I might say. I've been a bum for more than a year and aside from the paintings I do, the books I read and the internet surfing, it's that time before going to sleep that gives me the quiet time to delve deep into my twisted mind. *laughs like a maniac*

-I tend to rebel when I get told to do something more than twice. Why on the third? It's because the first one is the instruction, the second one is the reminder and when it gets to the third one, it's just a nagging. This doesn't happen all the time.

-I don't like being called by my name in public. Out loud. It's a psychological thing, I think. It makes me feel that once someone gets a hold of your name, they have the right to talk to you even if I don't know them.

-Although I like being praised--who doesn't?--I don't like being praised a LOT. It sounds insincere when overdone. I pretty much like it if that praise is accompanied with a reason than a simple, "nice~". Much better if that praise is accompanied by a "but".

-I'm a homebody. That's why my hobbies are those I can do in one spot. I don't see the point in moving around just for the adventure and thrill of things. I can have both of them just by learning new stuff and not even break a sweat. If I get tired, I could just sleep.

-I have difficulty sleeping anywhere besides my bed. This one is a hereditary quirk. hahaha. My Lolo has this thing also. That's why he doesn't stay overnight anywhere if he wants to sleep. Maybe it's the familiarity of the place that makes us feel secure enough to sleep. Once, Lola was admitted in the hospital and Lolo was reluctant to go home.

"Di man sad ka makatulog nganhi(You won't be able to sleep here anyway),"  Lola said.
"Nya, makatulog pud d-ay ko sa balay nga wala man ka(I won't be able to sleep at home if you're not there)," Lolo replied.

Ayeeee~ it sounds cheesier when translated to English.

-I can't sleep with the bedroom door open or when the moon is full. I don't know why.

-I think I have a Challenge-Accepted mindset. I hate reptiles, no matter the size, but I once held an iguana using both hands because I felt that I was being challenged then. I'm a closet competitor?

-I don't like being pushed to agree to do something I'm hesitant about. Without persuasion, I have about 3-5% chance of agreeing. But when people start telling me what to do, that chance drops down to negative one million percent plus a bad mood.


I'm a downer, ain't I? hahahaha

Holy Week for the Not So Religious

We instantaneously decided to go to Argao for the long weekend. There was a couple of last minute indecisions but we still managed to get going together. My mom was packing so much stuff that people can assume that we won't be coming back.

The reason why we want to go to the province was mostly because we want to get away from city's pollution and be able to relax from school/work/chores. The religious activity in the province is a plus.

I'm not even a tiny bit religious and I can say the same for my siblings and mother. Old churches fascinate me though. The way small vegetations start to grow on the ledges and the state of the wood and stone of the entire building. I was able to take a closer look at the stone walls of the exterior. It looks like limestone and you could see chisel marks on them. Probably because they had to manually shape stone boulders into angled shapes. Pretty amazing if you ask me. I wonder how long it took them to finish the entire church.

We set off on Wednesday evening, ate a little dinner at a fast food chain in Minglanilla--their service sucks--then straight to Argao.

When we finally arrived, they had to do a bit of cleaning. I say 'they' because I wasn't able to help with the wiping and washing. I had a mishap with a pair of scissors(whose handle is as sharp as its blade) a few hours ago. Ufufufufu is what I would have said until I scraped my wrists on one of the containers I was carrying. So that's two injuries in less than twelve hours. Good thing there weren't any stairs to fall on that day. -_-

Thursday was when the food fest began. First off, barbecue in the private cemetery. It may seem disrespectful, but we had our grandparents' blessing. :D

For dinner, we ate at Alex Kafe near where we were staying. I recommend their halo-halo. Yummy.

We finished dinner at around ten in the evening. By the time we got back, we were already prepping for a movie marathon--if you can call it that. There were only three(out of the eight) that were still awake by the time the second movie ended.

The next day was the main event. Food from morning until evening at Lola Dencia's house.

It is customary in the our region to serve binignit and biko during--but not limited to--Holy Week. Fasting and stuff.

Biko. Photo by Kim

Binignit. Photo by Kim

 
We had green mangoes, kropek and chocolate crinkles for snacks. We also got to meet some of our distant(2nd degree) cousins.

Cousins: Baby Athena, Kimberly and Kirk

For Dinner was fish and squid and some clear egg soup. Again, yummy.

Photo by Kim. I was too busy eating. hahaha

Photo by Kim

Photo by Kim

After dinner, we lounged around until ten then went back to our house played some rounds of Tekken then watched a movie.

The next day was the final one. We spent the entire morning packing up. We had lechon kawali for lunch then did some more packing.

We went home at around three in the afternoon(after saying goodbye to relatives). But we made another snack break at another fast food chain. hahaha

All-in-all, it was more of a culinary and art trip than anything else. You can appreciate more of the culture as a spectator rather than a participant. If you ask me, those 'participants' are just joining in on the activities without even understanding it. I mean, who would wear very high heels on processions. There were even some that were just texting and chatting instead of joining in the prayers. And who would wear seemingly all of their worldly possession in a very religious act when the church preaches on humility. The statues of the saints they were parading would have shook their heads in disgust.

Worst Best Friend, Best Enemy

A person you once hated with every fiber of your being does not stay that way forever. You two might encounter reconciliation along the way or you just mature more with time. In the same light, the person you might have thought was your friend will make you wish you never met each other.  Either way, it'll be a story that will leave its own mark on the both of you.

Back in elementary school, I was the shy girl at the back of the room that befriends the very first girl that talked to me. That girl was Christine. We had things in common –at least, that’s what I thought then. Both our fathers knew each other since they used to work for the same company. When my parents knew my blossoming friendship with Christine, they discouraged it. They said that I was only being used by the nine-year old. I was adamant at the innocence of our friendship and defended it until a changing event during my second year in high school.

During the time I met Christine, I met Marie. She was the bossy kid that wants everything to go her way. What she wants, she gets. I can’t remember what exactly happened but I know it was after school ended and I was playing with someone else and she made me cry. She wasn’t bullying me, she just taunted me. After that incident, I stayed away from her.

When we reached high school, I was still best friends with Christine. Marie became my friend and became part of our group along with Jam. This was the turning point.

It happened during recess. Our canteen then was selling fruit shakes and I often go there with this group and buy some. I bought a large mango shake with the little allowance I have for that day. Christine started asking me to buy one for her. For free.

Of course, I flatly told her that I can’t; my money wasn’t enough to buy another one. She pouted and walked away from me, dragging Jam and Marie with her. She left me there just like that. For years, I had never been without a friend so I tried redeeming myself and bought another shake, a size smaller than what she wanted because it was all I could afford. I tracked her down and called out to her when I did but she intentionally ignored me. The realization and everything my parents warned me against hit me hard. In my anger, I threw that tiny cup away, went to our classroom and sulked.

It was there that Marie and Jam found me. From then on, we never went with Christine again.

This event made me realize that I used the title “best friend” too casually and bestowed it on someone I’ve been the longest; not the one who knows me the most.  The value of that friendship was the same as that small cup of shape that I dumped in the garbage can without hesitation. My indifference to our friendship further convinced me that I never thought much about our relationship in the first place; it wasn’t something even worth fighting for. It wasn’t even worth any tear. I didn’t cry over our separation. Instead, I felt relieved: I was free of her oppression and bossiness.

I was blind to her misdoings because I was afraid of being alone. I even overlooked her habit of demeaning me when the fact was, I was a lot smarter than she is and will ever be.

Every one of us has our own Christines and Maries. Each one of us has the choice to keep or get rid of either one but it should always be us that make that decision.

To this day, Marie, Jam and I am still friends. Close friends. Best friends, in fact. Our friendship –as cliché as it sounds- stood the test of time. Of course, it wasn’t always smooth sailing; no relationship is. We had our fights but the most important thing is that we always find ourselves led back to one another. Another important thing is that we cried. We shed tears because if we know that if we don’t repent and forgave, we would lose something much more than the word “meaningful” will allow.

We went to different universities and months would often times pass without a single word between each other but whenever we have our annual meet ups, it’s as if we never parted. We always go back to that time in high school when we copy each other’s assignment or when we would just lounge by the hallways during breaks as if we had the entire school to ourselves. As for Christine, we never saw each other again.

Whoever said that time and distance could bring strain to a relationship has obviously never met us.

Six-plus Inches of My Hair Just Went Bye-bye

I stopped cutting my hair 6+(coincidence?) years ago. By 'hair' I mean the general length of it. I still cut the ones that fall in front of my face for those I-want-bangs moments. I even sometimes cut those at the side of my face that people would assume that I have short hair--until they see my back. hahahaha

It was only about three years ago that I discovered the magic of using conditioners. So by that time, my hair was not looking good. It has split ends.  *gasp*

I'm now looking around for files showing the actual length of my hair but I can't seem to find one. It's one of the drawbacks of being the one usually behind the camera. -_-

So~ I'm borrowing a picture that was taken by my friend Karissa back in 2008.

Obviously, if you have anything unusual in your person, people tend to stare. I've had my share plus a couple of pulls(to see if it's not a wig), murmured comments and some actually ask us(me and my sister) head on.

The comments I can take but I don't like the hair-pulling thing. Ever heard about personal space? Duh.

One time, I was with my sister at a mall(I think) and we were looking at some stuff when we passed by a little girl. My hair was in a single braid then. The girl pulled on her grandma's hand and "whispered", 'look grandma. Rapunzel.'

Yeah, the old Rapunzel association. It's cute. :)

The oddest hair-related question thrown at me is, "what do you do with it when you go to the restroom?"

'What do you think?' is what I so want to answer back. I mean, come on people, use your common sense. Sheeesssh

The most common question is, "is it real?" If people have seen an actual wig, they'd know mine is real. My hair's not so shiny and it's often messy.

I dedicate this entry to the oldest part of my hair that's now with the biodegradable trash. I'll always remember you as the one I had the Yuna-ish hairstyle with. :)

Goodbye My One Thousand Paper Cranes

This afternoon I learned from my cousin's girlfriend that their school is making them fold paper cranes to be given to the US embassy to be sold so that they can donate the proceeds for Japan's recovery.

I've made a thousand paper cranes about two years ago because I wanted it to be part of my thesis but the panel rejected my title proposal so the cranes ended up in my workspace.

That thousand was literally hanging around so why not make the best of it. It's for a good cause anyway.

For Japan!

Day 30 - A Picture of Someone You Miss

I've been avoiding any mention of the "yellow chicken" throughout this project but I'll give the last day to him.

This picture is courtesy of my not so secret paparazzi. Smudged and masked to protect the endangered yellow chicken's identity. I wouldn't want all its fangirls breaking down my door.

Our chat messages are sweet and often times crazy. It makes me wonder now: what happened? Are we still friends?

I miss the "butterflies in my stomach" feel whenever we talk. I've been blabbing about this a lot in this blog so I won't delve on this anymore. I just miss the chicken. Period.



Dear Yellow Chicken,

If you see this picture, you'd know I've been talking about you. Don't hate me for stalking you. Feel free to stalk me. hahahaha

Friends?

Still waiting,
The crazy girl beside you >:)

Day 29 - A Picture That Can Always Make You Smile

My first choice was a picture of a text message I got on a certain December day last 2008 but I think I threw away my old phone's charger away. So that's quite impossible now. :(

So I opted the next best thing: L and Ryuk's Lightsaber Shoot. Ryuk here was supposed to be wielding a red one but the it barely emits any light so we just changed it to a yellow glow stick.

Day 28 - A Picture of Something You're Afraid Of

Death. Not my own but of those around me. I am more afraid of losing people close to me than dying. I've been accompanying my grandparents to funerals of their relatives and friends. I've seen how people react to the lose and I don't like it. I don't like watching people try to keep the hurt to themselves because it makes it more painful for me to watch them.

My eyes would sometimes glaze up seeing all those mourners not because I'm a crybaby or a drama queen but because it's a habit of mine to place myself in other people's shoes. And in a funeral, there's no other shoes to fill other than those that had lost someone.

Dying is easy, coping with death is harder.

Day 27 - A Picture of Yourself and a Family Member

Zero~ when she was still a teenager. hahaha.

I was telling Zero to look at the camera but the camera shot too soon for me to point at it. Yeah, you can see that finger wanting to get in the picture. :))

When our father left us, we weren't devastated. Instead, we felt relief. Do not judge us and say that we shouldn't tell that because he's our father after all. He does not have the right to be called our father. He abandoned us at the drop of a hat and he told us frequently--and bitterly, I might add--that we wouldn't be alive without him(and that we should be grateful).

So when he left us, my younger siblings felt that it's about time we get a pet, something that's more part of our family than our father ever was.

Our family's now complete. :D

Day 26 - A Picture of Something That Means a Lot to You

Need you ask? It's my books. hahaha

I took some quick snapshots of them, hence the blurry ones. Those books have invaded the space for my clothes! Even with that, I'm barely able to cram them in such a small space. I don't even have all of my books(others are still on loan). -_-

Book picture spamming begins here. :D

Yeah, I know it's disorganized. >:)