Friday, March 30, 2007

We'll all go to hell


I am going home. Yey. Alone. Trudging across the National Capital Region (or parts of it) to get to Cavite, land of the brave and supladas.

This is it. I shall be happy until my grades come out. Wee.

Love, everyone, love love love!!!

SUMMERRRRRR!!!
XD

PS
1.
Goodbye, seniors.
*sniffle, sniffle*
Bye, Mr. Two-Year Fixation :( / :)

2.
Hello to PH, Ada, Dino, Ian (Hazel) and Andrew. New friends, harhar. :)

3.
Xander comes in , weating a barong-ish polo. Think congressmen clothes.
Ada: "Ang guwapo pala ni Xander."
PH and Sasha: "Waaah, blasphemy!!!"
Xander: "Buwisit kayo, ngayon niyo lang napansin?!"

4.
Ian: "Buti pa ang school, may chemistry...
Buti pa ang chemistry...
may lab."
WTF? 0_o

5.
This may seem like a "So what?" moment, especially since Yaps has inuman sessions with him, but... Ricky Abad asked me what the number to Shakey's was. Haha, astig! :p

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Thursday, March 29, 2007

Wouldn't it be beautiful?


I AM FREEEEEE!!!

And then, *blink blink* what now?

Clean the mess that is my dorm room, do some laundry, have some guiltless, migraine-inducing sleep, read a trashy book or two. Oh love, love, love. A wedding, little brother John's graduation, HS co-conspirator and all-around-martyr Jozelle's depedida, a little swim here and there, and FOOD FOOD FOOD.

Pero tinatamad pa ako eh. Will coagulate in Katips muna. :)

*

Guess who's babysitting the FA room tomorrow?

So while senior friends, freed POA (POAteneo), and Mr. Two-Year Fixation glide towards their diplomas, with XanderKhan looking on, li'l ol' me is tinkering with the PowerMac, making crank calls and being bitch goddess, lording over no one.

Samahan niyo naman ako o, haha.

830 to 6, for the freaking win!!!

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That kind of loving


I found sadness creeping up on me as I watched the fireworks bloom from the Bel field, where strangers and friends are probably looking at the same spectacle, or better yet, searching the crowd for the a familiar heartbreak.

Words can only get me so far.

Senior friends, I will miss you.

Lalung-lalo ka na.

Oooo, IKAW!

<3>The most important things are the hardest things to say. They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish them — words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were in our head to no more that living size when they’re brought out. But it’s more than that, isn’t it? The most important things lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away. And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you’ve said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you almost cried while you were saying it. That’s the worst, I think. When the secret stays locked within not for want of a teller but for want of an understanding ear. [from 'The Body' by Stephen King.]

Kung ganun, sige, hindi ko na lang sasabihin. :)

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Wednesday, March 28, 2007

An old vice


He wanted to tell her about a different kind of desire, the silent one, the one that could so effectively submerge him, yet could slide off her so easily, making her just a little slick with the contact, not less perfect with the momentary friction. It was desire that drove a man to sit for hours in a fire escape, beside rusty garbage cans overflowing with things they both wanted to forget, listening to the lilting poetry of a woman who did not know she spoke that way. It was the kind of desire that made a man reach for a deeper poison, not the kind given by menthols in a paper box, but the smoother ones, the words, ruminations of sweaty bodies in pot-heavy rooms, a recount of a kiss, the remembrance of a well-timed come.

“You give up an old vice, it becomes easier to take on a new one,” she was saying.

[Name] watched her light her thirteenth stick, and his hand itched for her skin.

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Monday, March 26, 2007

Can you keep a secret?


Three stories, and the shadows of one, in my pocket. Plus Krip's recommendation letter. Oh, hope, you are as deadly. (But give me beaches, fried iced cream and literary envy. Let me sit at the table, please?)

*

"Can you keep a secret?" -- Never a good way to start a conversation, darling.

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Sunday, March 25, 2007

Whatever tomorrow brings


How much of ourselves do we put in our craft, wait, in our art? Writers, especially.

"I write fiction."
"What's fiction?"
"Fiction is an improvement on life."
"You mean you lie?" asked Gertrude.
"A little. Not too much."
from Women by Charles Bukowski

Every artist is a cannibal, every poet is a thief
All kill their inspiration and sing about the grief
from The Fly by U2

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Saturday, March 24, 2007

I won't be here


I find myself on a mission to prove my Chinese horoscope wrong.

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Love in a lap dance


So I took a break from my existence as near-eternal sleeper / starer of blank screen (pa-writer) and ventured into the hallowed halls of National Bookstore. I wandered over to the magazine section, hoping to take a peek at some girly mags *cough* er, checking if Story Philippines is out yet (I don't know what their regular release schedule is.)

And there it was, lying open, the teenybopper magazine of teenyboppers.

A little browsing here and there, some odd drooling at some odd clothes and then WHAM, page blanketty-blank.

I blinked. One more time. And dammit, for good measure, I took off my glasses, put them back on again and blinked some more.

And, slowly, as little trickles of horror replaced every possible happy thought in my wee body, as it dawned on me, I uttered a little squeak of a scream.

These people

ARE

taking over

the world!!!

ACK!

*chokes on own blood*
*chokes*
dhgdsfkjgrinmfksjkffnwkfmfffff!!!

Ahem.

But then:
I know who's taking over the Fine Arts, I know who's taking over the Fine Arts. La-dee-dah-dee-dah... And it is going to make us mad ones / Creative Writers reeeeeally happy!!! XD

*sticks tongue out*

PS
Nah, nah, I'm happy fer yah and blah blah blah.

PPS
Back to writer-ing.

UPDATE:
No, I'm not talking about teenybopper models / strangers found in aforementioned magazines. I already know they're taking over the world with their pasted smiles and lethal clavicles. I mean, I KNOW THESE PEOPLE IN SAID MAGAZINE AND IT JUST FREAKED ME OUT THAT THEY'RE EVERYWHERE, SPILLING INTO OUR ROOMS, SWARMING THE ARTS, GALLIVANTING AROUND POP CULTURE. Some of them are my friends-ish, but still. They're EVERYWHERE. XD

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Friday, March 23, 2007

We be speeding


Yeah, I'm trying out for Dumaguete. (Because I think I can, I think I can, I think I can.)

And now that I've said (wrote) that, I won't be submitting an application anymore.

Hahahahahahahahaha.

Ha.

LABO.


*


Missy (Maramara) is gonna have my head on a platter and slather butter all over it -- I didn't go to the restaging of Lysistrata, kahit na I told her I was broke and she told me she'd pay for it. At 6:00 PM, I thought, I should really go to school now but I simply rolled over in bed. Uh-oh.

(I hung up on my mother nga after two minutes of grumbly, groggy mumbling on my part and repeated Has? on hers. As I became more aware of the enticement of the bed underneath me and the DreamLand I left behind, I told my mom, Can't we please talk when I'm awake. Am shleeping. Later. And END.)

Yaps will find the humor in this. Maybe the world does revolve around this this one.

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Going against the grain


Poor boy --
leaves moon-watching
for rice-grinding.
(Basho)

UGH, YOU COMPLETELY MISINTERPRETED IT, MISTER SCIENTIST PERSON!!!
*fumes*

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Thursday, March 22, 2007

Oh, dream maker


You make me tick. Grr.
I don't want to be tick-ed, thank you very much.

But I'm happy. <3

*

Moon River, wider than a mile,
I'm crossing you in style some day.
Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker,
wherever you're going I'm going your way.
Two drifters off to see the world.
There's such a lot of world to see.
We're after the same rainbow's end--
waiting 'round the bend,
my huckleberry friend,
Moon River and me.

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This fragile thing now


In the words of Prof. Mira Ofreneo, "If fucking up was a choice, fucking well is a choice too" and "BFA CW -- where madness is given free reign to fuel creativity."

Galing.
^_^

PS
Sorry guys. Iyakin lang talaga ako eh. :)

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Wednesday, March 21, 2007

Standard information


I don't want it to be a fluke.

*

LSS-ing:
I'm waiting for the pen,
To come up here again,
And devour me whole.
They're screaming to the gods.
Screaming to the gods.
And I'll be here holding on.

Maybe I'll arrive before you.

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One more sad song


Poem That Had Some Difficulty With The First Line
by Mikael de Lara Co

I’ve always wanted to begin a poem
with the line, “I’ve always wanted
to begin.” Now I have. Best to end here,

but then the universe is expanding
back into its black beginnings,
and space, aware of its own looming demise,

is singing of possibilities. I’m almost over, it sings,
it’s almost over and sooner or later we’d be left
with nothing but time. If we live that long.

Sometime before then all our dialects
will have moored on the gray sands of forgetting,
all our sad words will have started

to repeat themselves, as if sound didn’t dissipate
into stillness, as if not everything has been said before.
Here, let me tell you a joke: I am a man of faith.

Or a child, a tree, some living thing
that will someday be a dead thing.
What does faith have to do with it? I know;

it isn’t funny. Nothing funny about mortality,
how movement bleeds into clockwork,
how clockwork succumbs to its own igneous finitude.

How we aid entropy by being born.
See? I only wanted to begin, now I’m humming
the ghost-heavy refrain of imminent endings.

In that song about possibilities, someone
is hurling an empty bottle skyward. I see you:
You’re imagining it slowing towards its peak,

anticipating gravity, its ruthless duty. Stop.
Don’t. Let’s go. Let’s not be around when it shatters.
Let’s not wait for an ending.

*

I dedicate this to Stephen Hawking.
And, of course,
in answer to Le Guidote's question
about The Beginning and End of Things.
Hello, April, oops, Sarj.

:)

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Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Take a good hard look


Shit, I already know it's freaking sophomoric, so why'd I show it to you pa?

Ah, I remember. Cuz you'll help me de-crap-itize it. To nudge me in the right directions, so to speak.

Still.
(Kahit na.)

I don't want to open the e-mail you sent me because your opinion matters.

Haha, ang labo, di ba?

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Meron ba kayong chop suey?


My brother Gabriel Joshua (yeah, I call 'em by their full names) liked to yank open a cabinet door, park his ass inside to let out a huge fart, then immediately slam the door close.

And he'd be grinning at us, John Vincent and I, expecting us to kneel at his feet and worshiiip.

But then, all three of us would be giggling too hard that it'd get hard to breathe, though that would prove fortunate because my father is about to get another of his favorite white shirts, none the wiser, talking about how we should trot along to Dreamland.

My mother would be in the background, holding the Tom Robbins book I bought her, giggling right along.

Summer, c'mere, darling.

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Monday, March 19, 2007

Burning up the highway skyline


My friends are so intellectual.

No, not the pseudo-quasi types who like to exclaim, "Aha, man!" at a prismatic vision on a white wall then forge onwards to relate the tale of how natural element number 456 met with the princess of the Underworld. That's just too easy, it insults real Intellectuals everywhere and those like me, who stand beside / behind / in front (but looking back) aforementioned Intellectuals with the blankest looks on their faces.

These people take tremendous effort to even sound remotely smart, in a way that doesn't make them smarmy -- and that's a tough balancing act, like knowing why an orchid is called that, without waxing lyrical about all the testicles of mankind.

Whenever I venture into Intellectual mode (taking the pseudo-quasi route, of course), I meditate. Yes, that OHM OHM thing and the whole shebang. I drink Summit Clear, White Grape flavor, imagine the smell of Davidoff Cool Water wafting from me, along with the small of old money, and think of myself in a stark white room with pillows on the wall. That's how I do it. As you can see, it's a lot of work.

But my friends, they can't help it. They just can't. Literature flows from their fingertips, poetry from their earwax surplus, philosophies from the pus in their pimples. It's goddamned effortless.

Sometimes, I feel like what a blonde in go-go boots must feel, as she talks about her French tips, in a room full of, well . . . Atenistas. Oh, wait, BFA Creative Writing majors. Often, I feel like the shallowest person within a five-meter radius.

Fucktard.


*


"You're a nonfiction person. You can't do what I do."

A cold statement by the curly-haired fictionist to my right.

"And what is it that you do?"

"I write stories."

"Isn't nonfiction a story told, only the stuff really happened?"

"Where's the creativity in that? We create our own world . . . "

"Where's the courage in that? Hiding behind imaginative worlds."

"Who says we're hiding?"

"All work -- fiction included -- is biographical."

"Are you saying that the story about the girl who runs away to fight monsters is a true story?"

"Are you saying that the sense of inadequacy consuming that girl, making her run away from an abusive home to fight the only thing that exists that's more frightening than her family isn't true?"

Silence.

"How conceited of you to only write about yourself!"

"How plastic of you to do so and hide it behind make-believe!"

"That's not being plastic . . . That's creativity."

"If I wasn't creative, why would anyone in this godforsaken world even give a damn about a 21-year-old of a fuck?"

Silence.

"Sorry."

Pause.

"Me too."

"Then what do you have to say about poets?"

"They're all talented motherfuckers."

"Make a writer jealous, right?"

He nods.

END.

Apparently, this is just brainfart for Martin Villanueva.

Monday's blue, Tuesday's gray


An open letter to a higher being:

Basta lumampas lang ako ng Martes ng linggong ito na buhay pa ko't kumpleto pa ang mga galamay ko (lalung-lalo na yung mga kulubot sa utak ko), masayang-masaya na 'ko. Salamat.

Ay, teka.

Tatanggapin ko rin naman kung hahayaan niyong dumaan ang natitirang dalawang linggong ito na hindi ako tumatakbong hubo't hubad sa mga pasilyo ng punyetang eskuwelahan kong ito.

Kahit ano sa dalawa, okey lang.

Labs,
Sashing.

Sunday, March 18, 2007

Pop goes his heart


What? The weekend's over? HA? Kelan nangyari yun? Putehk, wala pa akong nagagawa. Waaaaaah!!!

Friday, March 16, 2007

We've got innocence for days


Some randomness, in keeping with the current state of my mind:

1
Apparently, the March KATIPUNAN manuscript (do you call it a manuscript?) is currently on lease for dustbunnies to frolic atop it. Because we are poor.

2
My FA Room / Painting Room / FA Lounge entrance song is any of the following: Bon Jovi's You Give Love a Bad Name, My Chemical Romance's I Don't Love You, Yellowcard's Only One, Irene Cara's Fame, or Shawn Michaels' Boytoy (as in: "I think I'm cute, I know I'm sexy...") Kayo? What're your entrance songs?

3
Eros Atalia is a UP ICW Nat'l Workshop fellow for Filipino Fiction. Gusto ko lang sabihin yun kasi gusto kong mapasaakin yung pangalan niya.

4
Dinner conversation between my mother and me:
ME: ...I was at Gourdo's staring at all the shiny cooking apparati...
MOM: Apparati? That's the plural?
ME: (shrugs) Esophagus, esophagi. Alumnus, alumni.
MOM: (nods slowly) Cactus, cacti.
ME: Uh, phallus, phalli. (Thinks: Coitus interruptus, coiti interrupti.)
(silence)
MOM: (grins) BUS, BI!!!
ME: (-_-) Ano ba. I won't even respond to tha -- Ay, last! PUS, PI!!!
:)

5
Sarj and I have decided that we'll move to Latvia, if the Arneow decides to kick us out.

6
All this school is getting in the way of my life. (Again.) Okay. (Clear all ze shit up, then writer-ize.)

Weekend LOOOOVE.
See you guys next week, ze penultimate week.
(Oh, sweet summer, you taste of halo-halo and my dad's Beef Salpicao, high school jealousy, broken clocks and my brothers' punches. Sleepovers and coagulating on couches! Squatter-ing in my own home because I don't even have a room of my own anymore. Writer-ing and bumming and pirated DVDs! Hilaw na mangga with bagoong Balayan and subsequent diarrhea!!! Summer, I WANT YOU.)

Thursday, March 15, 2007

French kiss the morning


Ah, Thursday, you weird weird weird day. XD

Rundown: Dragged my fat ass, plus a sidestitch, through Arneow -- one mile, sure, laugh it off, but for a sloth like me, that's like climbing Everest. Got lectured (as in sermon, a la high school) by my PE teacher. I have to mention the shower I had because it was soooo good. Ahem. Then to Psychology, where we discussed lurve, ah, boon and bane of humanity. Tas slept (drooled) on the leather couch, listening to Aerosmith and Bon Jovi (pa rin), with a little MCR, Justin Timberlake, Rent soundtrack and (gasp!) Pussycat Dolls thrown in. Tapos Eco, which was so incredibly dismal, it deserves no more than a sentence. Then did the routine meltdown sa FA Room; Xander, unfortunately, was there, which means I will NEVER live it down [Boo-fucking-hoo, no one luuuurves meeee! (-_-)]. Hello to ZoeDee, Yapsalacious, Sarj and Martin. Then Sarj and I went to UP, where we struck a deal with Manong Rene, found what I've been looking for, travelled to another dimension, and broke a not-so-resolution.

And now I'm in my dorm, psyching myself up for an Aesthetics debate, my third long test in French and a re-enactment (wah) of my depression for my guidance counselor. Ayos. :)

*

SERENDIPITY!
I finally found Tom Robbins' Still Life with Woodpecker, after more than a year of looking for it. I expected some sort of shaft of light from the heavens, complete with the proverbial chorus of angels. But no. There it was: fading into the background, understated, calm, welcoming.

Oh, bookgasm, much.

*

I just freaked out because I am incredibly worried about my academics. I want to remain in this godforsaken university with no murals whatsoever anywhere (even the restroom graffiti's pathetically sedate). Ayokong mag-aral sa University of Perpetual Help Rizal - Molino, where there is an average of two suicides per week -- a memorable one is when someone offed herself using Eskinol Facial Cleanser when she found out she was pregnant again, after a recent abortion. WTF. Anyway, I am in a not-so-imagined possibility of disappearing from these airbrushed walls forever. Galing no? From DL to kick-out in one freaking sem? Weeeee! XD

Yun. Not because, as Yaps said, walang bibili sa akin sa Quezon Ave. ^_^
Or that wala akong (cough cough) boobs. (-_-)

Muy claro? :)

"Oh, be one with the chaos!" - Fidelis Tan :)
"Let us examine the wreckage." - Joel Toledo <3

*Mass Hug!*

Wednesday, March 14, 2007

Break in two over you


Music: Paramore guitarist Hunter something or the other is leaving ze band because he's getting married! (Isn't he, like, seventeen or something?) Bands The Early November and Matchbook Romance are, well, disbanding. Pete Wentz has a black hoodie with pink skulls all over it and I WANT it. I still love MCR's "I Don't Love You" though I resurrected my odd little crush on Jon Bon Jovi, especially when he wails to "Bed of Roses."

Emo to the next level!

On other news, Sasha is sick and throwing up. Migraine. Gah.

So many people have birthdays today!!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY CHECHE, MARVIN, SONNY-J, JUSTINE, AND ATE MABS!

Sana lang, di ba, ganun din kadami yung handang pupuntahan ko ngayon. But nooo. I'm coagulating on my bed, hungry. In need of another bath (puking on yourself is an enlightening experience, I tell you) as I can't seem to scrub of the smell of regurgiated les nourissements from this morning, lunchtime and early afternoon.

I think I saw bits and pieces of isaw sa last "session" ko. E-yeew. Haha.

Someone gimme a hug. And food. And three to five short stories. :)

*

So no haircut today, kasi baka sukahan ko yung gugupit ng buhok ko. Tapos, sabi ni Motherdear, "Nooooooo!" when I told her I wanted to hack off my hair drastically.

Fine. I'll grow it long, to the back of my knees, dye it blue, wear a Victorian wedding dress and wail a Celtic rune in the hallways. Awoooooo.

*

Dear Not-So-Friend,
The "vicious cycles" of young love. Hai.
Life will look up.
Trust me,
Sasha :)
PS
A Lili-esque, "C'mere, you poor poor boy."
XD

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

The luxury of despair


Haha, tangina, ayoko na! :p

So you can start and then quit something in the span of 24 hours. Galing.

I'm doing it for the wrong reasons (are there right reasons?).








I know y'all are tempted to give me a week.
Wala namang like that-an.
-_-

Once around the floor


I am comatose on my feet, which hurt like hell, by the way. Trudging through the darkest roads and byways of the University of the Philippines, with five pounds of magazines on my starkly bare shoulder.

Sarj, my anal editress, on selling KATIPUNAN magazines: "Slut up, Sasha."

Aye, aye, mon capitaine!

Big wave to Julio, who I borderline molested during an ambush. You are a poet so it's automatic love!

*

Went to the FA building/compound sa UP and I can honestly say na Ateneo sucks, haha. Joke.

Medyo. XD

I love the plastered hands coming through the walls, holding really purdy necklaces. Oh, Ateneo, when are we getting Visual Arts? The non-technological, old-fashioned, for incredibly gifted, talented people who have no qualms about using Coke cans and real paper and pen.

ID kids, you're cool, in a (post, hyper) modern kinda way and skilled with the tools of your trade but sometimes, you wanna see something sa canvas. The uncommissioned kind.

We need more murals sa Ateneo. Wait. We need a mural sa Ateneo.

Volunteer!!!

*

I wanna hug all my friends. :)
Nah, I wanna hug everyone!!!

*

Happy birthday to my father, The Father, daddy, Jepoy. :) Kahit na siya'y nagtatampo at pinagplantsa siya kaninang umaga, pagkatapos batiin ng maligayang kaarawan. Aw, hug! Ahlabshu po. XD

*

I am so physically tired, I feel like crying. But I've already got this big grin plastered on my face so ano naman ang itsura ko kung ganun, di ba?

Toodles, kids.

Monday, March 12, 2007

Just as close as


Today was a nice day. (Haha, parang AA journ: One freaking day at a time.) Skipped SCI10 (uh-oh) cuz I spent the wee hours of Monday morning hanging with Yaps sa Katipunan, then went to my French orals, where I freaking rocked. :) And then more French and then our LAST Fiction class with (High Priest, Lord and Master) Krip Yuson. Tapos Sarj and I decided to play a clean, fun GAME, wherein Xander asked us, with his signature look, "Are you lesbians?", si Kuya Manong Janitor (hello :p) blushing both times he barged in on us, and pissing off our "playmates." (Weird, no?)

It was a giggle-fest today. XD

Rediscovered classic Aerosmith and Bon Jovi songs (I wanna laaaay you down...) and am currently caterwauling, with newfound buddy by my side. Well, technically, on the bed. Basta, haha.

Congratulations to Sarj for succeeding where others have, er, failed.

Glorify it, baby, I don't care. Es coolness.

WEE, AM SO COMPLETELY RANDOM!!!

PS
Enrique,
Peace na tayo. Sige na.
Labs,
Sasha :)

I'm with you now


Fine, there were good stuff too.

Like Murasaki Blue, Glenn Frey, Rico J. Puno, and Irene Cara. Especially Irene Cara, harhar. Salamat, Yaps, sa bagong theme song. :)

And finding out that he likes Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge. Oh. My. Gah-ness.

("De-pesh, Sasha. De-pesh!")

NOW.
French orals review.
Jeesh, ten minutes of your life, Sasha.
XD

See you, kids.

Take your gloves and get out


Dear Life,

I have no desire, at this point in my life or at the forseeable future, to ever find out what you freaking mean.

Good day to you.

Yours,
Sasha


PS
Lay off the bullshit for a little while, will you, please? I'm happy.

Sunday, March 11, 2007

Jungle planet


I want to get a haircut but at the same time I don't want to. Ano ba.

One of these days, I'ma get some scissors and hack off half my hair, and leave the other half intact. Para astig.

Monday again, tomorrow. God, god, god, I'm scared of my French orals. Whimper, whimper.

PS
Dear You,
You make me happy. :)
Labs, Sasha.

Suicide watch


Why have I not seen 300 (Gerard Butler, rawr)? Why?
.
..
...
....
.....

Ay, onga pala. Ala akong pera. XD


*


Off to do some none-acads, none-KATIPUNAN, none-mindless-blogger writer-ing. Tata, kiddos. :)

Merde


I was going over my planner today, coloring bits and pieces of it, sticking stickers -- generally being in my Arts-and-Crafts / Procrastination mode. And then it hit me: PANG!

French Orals at 11:40, Monday morning.

OHMYGAAAAAAAAH!!!
Worry mode, ON.
Kinakabahan talaga ako. Huhuhu.
Waaaah!!! O_o

PS
Hello to dear KATIPUNAN friends in press. ^_^

Saturday, March 10, 2007

Sayang


Haha, I get runner-up points for Grand Poobah of Twisted Timing. I slept through the Stephen Hawking, French oral simulations (snigger all you want) and two pizza parties (TWO, as in DALAWA). PLUS the event of the decade (yes, I exaggerate) sa painting room. So while all that was going on, I was drooling on my bed, with Gerard Way wailing in the background.

Re-enactment, sige na!!!

O kahit pabalot man lang.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, AGAIN, YESTERDAY, OR KANINA, TO AILA AND EDJIE!!! XD

PS
How come things like that never happen sa FA Room when I'm there? And I'm almost always always almost there!

Friday, March 09, 2007

These bright lights


Women whose asses can be seen in their full, vividly pale glory when they bend over / sit / stand leaves me to wonder: Are these women wearing underwear?

I decided to get to the bottom (no pun intended) of this. With my tummy full of leftover pizza, I waddled over to the OAA to salvage my shaky scholarship. On the way, I see Miss Generic Atenean Chinese Girl (pfff) with roughly three inches of buttcrack for the world's viewing pleasure.

And so view I did.

I looked. Glanced, played innocent, then looked again. Then as I got nearer, I stared.

Peering into the depths of her ass for five seconds, I came to a conclusion. Well, two actually:

1) No, she ain't wearing underwear.

2) There must be something *really* wrong with me if I dedicate this much of my life thinking about other people's buttcracks.

Oh, well.

Happy weekend, kids.


*


Shout out to J, who's gone back to Japan without his Bleach manga; Tita Bong, as she has discovered my site (wah!); Martin, because he has a headache; April, because she's having a meltdown; Xander, because he was nice; and Zoe, because we're both hoping. :)

AND HAPPY HAPPY BIRTHDAY, AILAHVEHT!!! XD

Thursday, March 08, 2007

I don't love you


Soundtripping.

I love My Chemical Romance's The Black Parade so much, I could cry. Haha. Mikey Way, marry meeee! *fangirl shriek* From Welcome to the Black Parade to Teenagers to Mama to I Don't Love You to Famous freaking Last Words... Noseblood. Ang galing. Nakakaiyak talaga.

They sound so eighties. Queen-ish. My mom is in love with the album. It's disturbing. And their music videos are eyecandy too. To paraphrase Nikita, "Laglag ang panty ko." :D I Don't Love You features Gerard's black hair. Haha.

I remember crying over The Killers' Hot Fuss and Sam's Town too. Haha.

Fall Out Boy's Infinity on High rocks too, btw. :) That This Ain't A Scene song's cooooool because because because I am rabid and have no taste in music whatsoever.

EMO GIRLS, UNITE!!! BUWAHAHAHA.

Anyhoo. Off to Pque, ladies and gents. For something or the other.

Toodles.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LIA ALBANO! XD

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

Egg pants



Oh gosh, this is just too too too cute! XD Haha, egg-pants, people, egg-pants! Another great invention from our brothers and sisters in the US of A!

Ahem. Back to work. :)

Monday, March 05, 2007

You gotta go there to come back


It's a beautiful, take - off - your - clothes - and - weep day. Although I had no sleep for twenty seven hours and counting and that I've got three articles lined up, plus a SCI10 essay, plus three short stories I must finish before the thirty-first so I can get to DNWW or else I kill myself, life is pretty good.

Weird. Haha.

Mon professeur said that either I call a shrink pronto or he will. Astig, di ba? Only in sunny Arneow, fuckers.

I put too much mustard on my hotdog but what the hell. Oh, mustard, I laaaab you.

Fiction in an hour or so (as KrippyPoo has the artistic tendency of tardiness). So, there.

I went to all my classes today. Really. Fucking fantastic, ain't it? Last night, I was fretting with Yaps over my transfer to some Buhay na Tubig College if I don't do something to keep my freaking scholarship. Yaps wasn't any help at all kasi sabi niya, if he gets kicked out, he'll be shipped off to America.

Today, Martin told me, in a very sunset - in - the - background kind of way na I have to stay in school, go to all my classes, for this last month, because I have to stay in Ateneo next year kasi wala nang staff ang A&L ng Katipunan. Galing 'no?

Ako naman si gaga, I said "Yup yup yup."

Mustard!

Friday, March 02, 2007

It's a damn arms race


I feel like roadkill you go back for when you've already gone ten miles forward, since that was only when you realized that there was a rather screamful bump along the road somewhere.

Oh, well.

Eating turnips dipped in vinegar and salt, which is completely cooler when said in Tagalog: Kumakain ako ng singkamas na binabad sa sukang may asin.

Happy weekend, friends. :)

Thursday, March 01, 2007

She said you gotta be crazy


Today was a good day. Yey. XD

I actually rolled out of bed in time for my PE reportage, which I successfully winged, to the immense relief of my groupmates. Then off to Psych, where we studied Abnormal Psychology, which, predictably, I loooove. Haha. Oh, well. It was a tad depressing at the end but but but I'm sure I had that "I am going to write about this" look in my swimmy eyes.

Went to Gateway to meet my father, who insists that I am a few bones away from being a poster child for neglected children, pro-ana sites and whatnot. Kailan daw ang sembreak ko. Sabi ko sa katapusan. Sabi niya, "Ayos, ipapadala kita sa Inay [my paternal grandmother]. Patatabain ka natin."

I went there with Martin, who paid for my fare. Hello, Martin! Haha. I told him when we grow old, when we're crusty literary legends, we'll look back on that trike-train ride and talk about it like, well, old crusty literary legends. Wee.

Now, tell me: those rubber things that connect the train cars, the ones that look like accordions? Don't they smell like a box of old toys you unearth from under the bed? The scent of your kindergarten bag, opened after thirteen years or so, with all sorts of Happy Meals inside? Di ba it smells like that? Not childhood, but what you remember as childhood? Di ba? Di ba?

Oo na lang kayo.

And I went to Economics class, where I daydreamed (so, pahiram ng notes) and wrote weird um-poems.

Oh, oh, Heights Open Mic tomorrow sa Colayco Pavilion at 430. I don't know why I'm suddenly all "Go, Heights!" these days when they've ... they've ... Pfft. Never mind. I guess it comes with Sarj being your friend / editor. Ha.

Anyway, please read good poetry / fiction tomorrow, para astig. Someone I know is doing a stand-up and I am beginning to un-know him as we speak.

One day at a time!

Putehk, I want to hug EVERYONE! Hala, patay.