tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-55961693835877609672024-02-19T07:17:48.775-08:00_Skeleton in my closet and trash under my bedthings&thongshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03021142740708292655noreply@blogger.comBlogger47125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5596169383587760967.post-42640350296798165062010-12-21T09:46:00.000-08:002010-12-21T09:48:10.700-08:00I've moved to a new home<div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: x-large; "><b>Please visit:</b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b><br /></b></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://karissajavier.wordpress.com/"><span class="Apple-style-span"><b>http://karissajavier.wordpress.com</b></span></a></div>things&thongshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03021142740708292655noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5596169383587760967.post-21225670128963197292010-06-19T02:59:00.000-07:002010-06-19T12:10:48.402-07:00The Kikay Mountaineer Part Deux<div style="text-align: center; "><div style="text-align: left; ">My so called "love for nature" was refueled after A asked me if I wanted to go hiking in Biak Na Bato National Park. This was the first time I got asked to go hiking. In Bulacan. And in a "National Park"! Wow!</div></div><div><br /></div><div>With only an hour of sleep and less than 12 hours before my shift, I took on the challenge and donned my so-called hiking gears. I was like, "Bring it on!"</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkt4YpFRW7lE9Q6XtpQnciKhTF6BHHnRL_OaexuRWnOIaXgXybsLbszsL-jN_Fr-3JIJlVvksSmPPpQYV1zhlQ2t13zB-ks5_qjb-hPF_JxiCs8ogreFwCYS-zc5FJcNDt6QjJUKhJM7w/s400/bnb.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484535417289723170" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /></div><div><div style="text-align: center; "><i>Wait? This is not a hiking gear?</i></div></div><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: left; ">In Biak na Bato National Park, we passed by caves and creeks and I think we needed to cross a bridge twice. Everyone who knows me knows I have a paralyzing fear of heights. My knees just wobble and my hands get clammy everytime I'm anywhere higher than 5 feet (let me stand on a high chair and I get scared already). But my hiking buddy was merciless and I knew he would leave me on the other side of the bridge if I didn't get my act together.</div><div style="text-align: left; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: left; "><br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhW-Kg1ccZXhciM_j_oKkrF1QgvSaMobUJJpOTSCZJVbwRL80csZ8UT5oSb45heCvERSA40wxN9YRtdstmRYHFUYpUdEip0X0KwB98B1Gy0xpcbdihwCZkV1zszwANbJw7VENAnIe01Lac/s400/16237_1243696727482_1081260214_1717638_5876428_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484537427336475954" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: left; "><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div></div><div><b>Every part of my body hurt after that trip and I swore to myself I'll never hike again.</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>But I did it again...</b></div><div><br /></div><div>I climbed Mt. Makiling with A and his Mom. I was a little embarrassed that A's mom who is almost twice my age had a faster pace than me. While nearing the summit, I was almost out of breath. I silently wished we'd just head back together but A was so eager to reach the peak. Thank heavens, she decided that we should get back before dark.</div><div><br /></div><div>When I finally got home, I laid on my bed, looked at the ceiling and wondered what I've gotten myself into.</div><div><b><br /></b></div><div><b>And again...</b></div><div><b><br /></b></div><div>Holy Week was a tough time in regards to my romantic endeavors. And while a friend surprised me with a round trip ticket to Boracay, I found myself taking the trail towards Mt Cristobal, the Devil's Mountain, this time with my friend Nona (the one I went with to Calaruega and supposedly a mountaineer). Why I chose the strenuous climb over some r&r by the beach, I will never understand. It was the most difficult climb to date and I had to stop two thirds towards the summit because my knees and feet were jelly-ish already. Nona went back and stayed in the car after she decided that she reached her hiking limit of 30 minutes (peace). I ended up taking an afternoon nap and reached the peak in my dreams. A went ahead and successfully represented the team up at the summit.</div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjemxvhl08T-xG7ynnGW8dS-nsgb9qcr1wObqy0RuAkWPXfbq33GaZtKY1JRUGN-YkesWwrWse13Ts7fvy6cTLxLccLR1hAZKF8F6Z0A6v4svJF0A4mc9jYOOPj-LgbA4eDhN80sWy-yaE/s400/26530_1355421080521_1081260214_2005941_7022199_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484543713088514226" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 286px; height: 400px; " /><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div></div><div style="text-align: center; "><i>the world is my oyster and the earth is my bed (just woke up)</i></div><div style="text-align: center; "><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center; "><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left; "><b>And again...</b></div><div style="text-align: left; "><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: left; ">I've climbed two mountains but haven't summited yet. I was disappointed with myself. Who goes hiking and stops midway? A suggested Mount Batulao. It looked promising and Pinoy Mountaineer said it was an easy climb. The pictures looked amazing too. What's not to love?</div><div style="text-align: left; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: left; ">The dusty and vertigo-inducing trail!</div><div style="text-align: left; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: left; "><br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhQxIqTlCbq6m65c9_mHyvH9kEQMcGf2p9ncebKvurIKV07girl1kT7GDi12_naJNCt6sjXB3jKcOkxIwNYdxfK4HN7mR8x5gMehol1cYI60wi0ZYQlahYErvJIoVUz_xJDMBTALcCSMww/s400/26530_1361754798860_1081260214_2024039_6237463_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484548213899681634" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 300px; height: 400px; " /><div style="text-align: center; "><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center; "><i>with my best friend Joe</i></div><div style="text-align: center; "><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center; "><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: left; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiu90pcmU8p-5gO4oHFs4RG_8tscOSvIj0rWREJJDbiwOZrlJqvI5CYi4-KyqH6seRfY-1RArpIWlGh33HKluxRA100Ocp4CZYsPz2clm7XWaWY__oWY3t7RIKUvgIureOaDuGqQfFK_CQ/s400/26530_1361755398875_1081260214_2024053_949043_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484550405812131074" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></div><div style="text-align: left; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: center; "><i>lesson learned: next time try a hiking pants and save the Guess shorts for a movie date</i></div><div style="text-align: center; "><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left; "><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: left; ">After our Batulao climb, I was two shades darker and with more pimples to boot. One toenail died too. Looking down from the summit, I almost called my private chopper to rescue and bring me back to Manila until I realized I didn't have any. I was like, "Why am I climbing mountains when I have to go back down again?" But I remembered that on our way to the peak, we crossed paths with two other climbers on the way down. There was nothing remarkable when I first saw them until I realized one was blind. It was amazing! And because of that blind climber, I treasured my first view from the top even more. My first summit, yey! I felt like I could retire and go back to my normal life.</div><div style="text-align: left; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: left; "><b>but I just had to climb one more time...</b></div><div style="text-align: left; "><b><br /></b></div><div style="text-align: left; ">This time, A and I went with <a href="http://www.facebook.com/album.php?id=1081260214&aid=2057018&s=20&hash=27e4a67f762e91e003b95cef61d2070b#!/pages/Jamboree-Mountaineers/94014607475?ref=ts">Jamboree Mountaineers</a> to Pico De Loro. It was our first climb with an organized group (not that we're not organized, I'm just saying...). I had a lot of fun, I didn't tire myself and there were a lot of breaks during the climb. The hardest part was just before the summit, a few minutes before I had my period! Yes, I had my period at the summit! What a feat! Good thing, one of the girls have an emergency kit and I had a spare shirt to cover my stain. I was not able to climb the parrot's beak but the 360-view from the summit overlooking the Hamilo coast was enough treat.</div><div style="text-align: left; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: left; "><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKWhPTRvkcytAUj03rLxoSg2cFjr8U8Wdom6gbvQ0vEgVWnAiVkfrjAr362MxVRAM-GiY7jbF8ma57pumUUeQDGnwIWNgLotyr05RgUjhdBsNoQLmEKwAUQz_lX7MpPkvqyWUHfD5xJWw/s1600/28212_405265436725_579601725_4223267_6213950_n.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKWhPTRvkcytAUj03rLxoSg2cFjr8U8Wdom6gbvQ0vEgVWnAiVkfrjAr362MxVRAM-GiY7jbF8ma57pumUUeQDGnwIWNgLotyr05RgUjhdBsNoQLmEKwAUQz_lX7MpPkvqyWUHfD5xJWw/s400/28212_405265436725_579601725_4223267_6213950_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484556028172228706" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 266px; " /></a><div style="text-align: center; "><i>yes, that's supergirl's cape/coverup</i></div><div style="text-align: center; "><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center; "><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center; "><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjora7wjHk4gRUD6gEBvI6VExcTKK_MaH9I3vyaW0m6H-Fv4QpXj48RJ9-Y5RR5tCLlgYryHKOZAey30eK5LSP4pqg7Z6c9PBmt7zB3Br6sn8iNlPU5EhuboLB6kWG6JlEltB3-RFVcMgI/s400/31351_1403406000114_1081260214_2126008_6152281_n.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484559730413877874" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px; " /></div><div style="text-align: center; "><i>A who fortunately didn't get sunburnt</i></div><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhBXAtcijw-_nNuTxdm6ac23izP6G2GqYAxl5nAsXEl1AVNVvjYluf_z_9WpUG0OjPa_0xWt4_dSN0FjxiNQT05kkyuW3YGW9vXHpnzGDd_gLzKfSpnoT4v58kAor9_tWqIJ3f4-xv36Fo/s400/31351_1403424160568_1081260214_2126059_6880660_n.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 225px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484561770127460402" /><div style="text-align: center; "><i>fantastic four at the summit</i></div><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: center; ">Plus, our last climb was featured in GMA 7's website:</div><div style="text-align: center; "><a href="http://www.gmanews.tv/story/192263/on-top-of-parrots-beak">On Top of Parrot's Beak</a></div><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: left; ">I know I prayed for a guy who goes to a spa every week and only plays chess as his sport. I didn't find that guy but I found something more - a whole new world of breathtaking beauty and someone who appreciates it as much as I do.</div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div>things&thongshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03021142740708292655noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5596169383587760967.post-35092615391634427442010-04-21T10:23:00.000-07:002010-06-19T02:59:51.974-07:00The Kikay Mountaineer Part 1<div><p class="MsoNormal">I never thought that I’d be keen on hiking mountains; the dusty sometimes moist earth clinging to every exposed part of my skin, the seemingly endless trail, hours of asking “malayo pa ba?”, the blazing sun rays that my SPF50 sunblock has no match against, my fear of heights, getting lost and anything and everything that crawls and has tiny feet as well as my excessive request for pitstops create a weird juxtaposition with that of my usual self.</p><p class="MsoNormal">When I told a close friend I was going to hike she virtually laughed at me.</p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwqFHoC52K-VeoTUyGPxKWRkbYFa2rfWP-ThppbzhGfIqTZWSdFfPC5n7NLw93dC5V5OyS2z9Y0UfWAgLrzlaqW63dc2ca-z_IQDY1paFhnl-6bvajTrWAQ5yWS90EFvSNxK0kFn7jlyk/s1600/+(04-21-2010+10.33.10).png"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwqFHoC52K-VeoTUyGPxKWRkbYFa2rfWP-ThppbzhGfIqTZWSdFfPC5n7NLw93dC5V5OyS2z9Y0UfWAgLrzlaqW63dc2ca-z_IQDY1paFhnl-6bvajTrWAQ5yWS90EFvSNxK0kFn7jlyk/s400/+(04-21-2010+10.33.10).png" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462655709170514386" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 267px; " /></a><p class="MsoNormal">I, too, laughed at myself at first. I never imagined myself as a mountaineer mainly because I lack the proper attire. I only have one pair of rubber shoes (something that I was forced to buy when I signed up for Fitness First). Everything else in my shoe cabinet are high heels, stilettos, pumps, peep-toe sandals... well, you got the idea. I didn’t have a loose shirt, hiking shorts or a backpack. I had to borrow stuff from my brothers to their dismay. Also, I have a weak lung, knees, legs and feet. My biological composition was not made for this kind of stuff. I love virtual shopping, dining, watching movies, reading books, getting a massage and everything that spells relaxation (and boring to some). I don’t like sweating too much and getting dirty. For a couple of years, I didn’t have any sports aside from shopping and Dance Dance Revolution and I was physically unfit to the 100<sup>th</sup> power.</p><p class="MsoNormal">In fact, a year ago I went on a trip with my friend to Calaruega – the chapel on the hill. It was a hill and for Pete’s sake – I couldn’t even manage to hike and reach the summit. Instead, I wished my friend good luck, told her to take lots of pictures while I ended up lying on the grass with a good book.</p></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYl9CjLBFTEKikNsGxFTI-9hCcGKNOLItYa8bLF70YYRFhr7YuB9hNkf6jmYKR-uJ1sQSFdMO7zmnHGpD4QlaKugBRTTlUHD02YO-P05ayd08m_80Slc_vZ0i7vyrABGZNEO295Y6SFzg/s1600/DSCN1909.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYl9CjLBFTEKikNsGxFTI-9hCcGKNOLItYa8bLF70YYRFhr7YuB9hNkf6jmYKR-uJ1sQSFdMO7zmnHGpD4QlaKugBRTTlUHD02YO-P05ayd08m_80Slc_vZ0i7vyrABGZNEO295Y6SFzg/s400/DSCN1909.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5462656442222672994" /></a><br /><p class="MsoNormal">But fate has its way of finding me (naks!). My first brush with hiking came when I dated a nature lover in the middle of 2009. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I remember him asking me to go out on a surprise date. He specifically requested for me to wear a short skirt. Eager to please my man, I did wear a short skirt complete with platform heels only to find out (surprise surprise!) that he was taking me to the National Museum, Rizal Park and Intramuros. Nakakaloka talaga, naglakad ako ng nakaheels at mini skirt sa Luneta of all places at kebago bago ng sandals ko napudpod agad ang takong! For a few seconds, I was scared that Jose Rizal will haunt me in my dreams. I considered dumping the guy right then and there but being the forgiving kind-hearted woman that I am, I gave him a second chance. On our next trip, he took me to a nice beach and I almost considered it a relaxing weekend until the next day when he at 12 NOON asked me to go hiking. When I refused, he called me lazy so I convinced myself to take the challenge, put on tons of sunblock and eventually gave in. I was burnt so bad after two hours of walking plus he jokingly called me "negra" on the way back. I didn’t talk to him for weeks after that and eventually broke up with him. I asked myself why I always attract the wrong kind of guys and prayed hard for God to let me find a guy who goes to a spa every week and only plays chess as his sport.</p> <p class="MsoNormal">I almost did. Almost. </p>things&thongshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03021142740708292655noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5596169383587760967.post-8167610097628935262010-03-15T08:38:00.000-07:002010-03-15T08:40:29.031-07:00of risks and taking chances<p class="MsoNormal">Whenever I make a tough decision in life, I always think about this – is the gain worth more than what I am risking? </p> <p class="MsoNormal">But life’s such a bitch on me so I have to think about it harder. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>What if the thing you are risking is already out there in the open and you are just holding on to an eeny teeny bit of hope? <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>What if life asks you to finally let go of that final piece, else you lose everything you are about to gain? Would you finally let go? Or would you throw everything away to hold on to that small glimmer of hope?</p><p class="MsoNormal">Even if it doesn't promise anything. Because it's just what it is - </p><p class="MsoNormal">Hope.</p>things&thongshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03021142740708292655noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5596169383587760967.post-31883848542035233662009-11-30T11:30:00.000-08:002009-11-30T11:54:56.405-08:00The Warrior and the Child<i><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;">So many things have happened these past few months which is why I decided to change my blog layout. It's still messed up though and my new header is the most I can do with my (limited) Photoshop skills hahaha. Anyway, I'm back to writing and can't wait to start posting new updates about my rollercoaster of a life. Here is the last piece I wrote before I went on a hiatus. I'm sire you'd figure out after reading this piece why I needed to get away... </span></i><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div>April 1, 2009 was one of worst days in my life. I found myself running in 3-inch stilettos in front of Mercury Drugs not knowing where to go. I felt so helpless as panic engulfed logic. I still am not ready to write about what transpired that night but all I know is that it changed my life. I now found that invisible ink flowing from my veins to my pen. Now I know I won’t be writing in vain.</div><div> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <div style="mso-element:para-border-div;border:none;border-bottom:solid windowtext 1.0pt; mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt;padding:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"> <p class="MsoNormal" style="border:none;mso-border-bottom-alt:solid windowtext .75pt; padding:0in;mso-padding-alt:0in 0in 1.0pt 0in"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> </div> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I went there not knowing what my main purpose was. I just felt like it was the best thing to do. Perhaps I was seeking refuge or just a mere sign of sympathy. I still shiver with fear just thinking about how I managed to escape but at the same time felt overwhelming gratitude just for being alive. I was obviously torn.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">She was seated across me; her eyes big and questioning that I couldn’t help but come out of my invisible shield. I smiled at her and she smiled back, shyly. I excused myself and went out. She immediately followed.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“What’s your name?” I asked.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“Daffodil.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“That’s a nice name. I’m also named after a flower. I’m Rose.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">She fidgeted with my bag while I heard a woman’s stifled cry in the other room. I presume it’s her Mom. Good thing, the little girl did not notice. I shouldn’t let her.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“Do you like to dance?”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“No.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“Ahhh… you like to sing then.”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">She nodded eagerly.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><br /></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“Who’s your favorite singer? Sarah Geronimo?”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“No, I don't like her songs. I like the song ‘I believe’”.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“What’s that?”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">She started to sing in her sweet little voice, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">I believe the children are our future, teach them well and let them lead the way. Show them all the beauty they possess inside…</i>”</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">The usually glum and dark room seemed to lit up, filled with a hopeful melody. I didn’t shed a single tear throughout the terrible incident nor even after it. But as I found myself singing with her, my tears fell down - one by one. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">“<i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal">Give them a sense of pride to make it easier. Let the children’s laughter remind us how we used to be…”<o:p></o:p></i></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">It was the same song I used to sing as a child. It was my favorite. And hearing it now, sung by a four-year old seemed to me as more of a coincidence. </span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span lang="EN-US">“The greatest love of all is easy to achieve – learning to love yourself is the greatest love of all.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><i style="mso-bidi-font-style:normal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></i></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">I was speechless for quite some time. I couldn’t believe that there I was, defeated with distress and self-pity being rescued by a four-year old girl. I was so messed up and almost giving up but she was still full of hope. I felt like a child again – seeing with her eyes. The world was perfect and I was safe and protected in a shell of parental love. How I wish it was still the case for the both of us.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">She waved goodbye as I tried to force a smile. I wished things could have been different – for her and for me. I wished nightmares didn’t come to life and children are spared of life’s cruelties. I wish we can go through this and emerge unbroken and strengthened. How I wished I met her at a different place. I wished as hard as I could - <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span>I wished for her more than for me.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">After filing my case, I walked out of CIDG’s Women and Children’s Protection Division - a place filled with women and children who are physically and sexually violated. I went there not knowing what my main purpose was. What I didn’t know was in that desolate room often filled with shattered dreams and defeated spirits, is where I will find one of my life’s purposes. After hearing Daffodil's story - how she was sexually abused in her own home, I found the strength to carry on and start all over. God has led me there and sent His angel to help me realize the reason behind it all.</span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US"><o:p> </o:p></span></p> <p class="MsoNormal"><span lang="EN-US">For the first time after the incident, I felt a sense of peace as Daffodil’s gentle voice continued to echo in my mind. <span style="mso-spacerun:yes"> </span></span></p></div>things&thongshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03021142740708292655noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5596169383587760967.post-82339635775985974592009-08-23T09:22:00.000-07:002009-08-23T10:01:15.038-07:00Up, Up and Away<div style="text-align: left;">I didn't want to watch Up at first, despite of the good reviews I've read about the movie. But after my friend promised that we will watch Time Traveler's Wife next Sunday, I finally agreed.</div><div><br /></div><div>The movie tells the story of a quiet boy named Carl who meets a rather aggressive girl named Ellie. Together, they both dreamed of an elusive adventure that they always seemed to put off until Carl outlived Ellie (this is the hearbreaking part). Finally, he decided to chase their dream and found something more than he hoped for.</div><div><br /></div><div>Up is as enchanting as it is inspring. It made me want to break out of my cynic shell and just take that first step to making my ultimate dream come true but at the same time, it taught me not to be afraid to make new dreams. It's definitely a must watch. The best movie from Pixar so far. And oh, I was deeply touched that I was inspired to make a poem.<b> Warning: it's kinda cheesy.</b></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlL-21GqfsB_gulVJhYoXtaPa0TaDCEtogSot9VOcu66yVdhbhnNBc53OlfORAmPGs8sLtuf98H6ZCG81al1Gh-Kh2b9jB2xsZhTnmGdg0ibUAVfUiRDyMIC2vRRjauGfkT8B4PQkeKns/s400/up.jpg" style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 272px; height: 400px;" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5373202095365223330" /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;"><br /></div><div> </div><div><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><b> </b><i><b>Paradise Falls</b></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>You came like a dream</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Vanished before I've seen</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>The wonders you brought to me</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Went as quickly as a breeze</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>I hold on to what was left</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>I screamed 'til I'm out of breath</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>I closed my eyes and tried to pretend</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>That you'll hold me until the end</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Though I know I have to let go...</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>I'll never be lost</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>As long as I follow my paradise falls</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>I'll chase wherever my heart goes</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Until I arrive at paradise falls</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>I'll take that step away from you</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>I won't be scared to dream a dream or two</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Like a bird that escaped from my grasp</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>I watch as you spread your wings at last...</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Because I'll never be lost</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>As long as I follow my paradise falls</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>Oh, paradise falls</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i>I'll see you at paradise falls...</i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div><div style="text-align: center;"><i><br /></i></div>things&thongshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03021142740708292655noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5596169383587760967.post-33971983388622636782009-07-20T14:09:00.000-07:002009-07-20T14:49:22.699-07:00Ako NamanNgayon ang unang araw nya sa eskwela. Bakas sa kanyang mukha ang magkahalong sabik at takot. “Kinakabahan ka ba? Okey lang yan. Ganyan din ako dati,” sambit kong may ngiti sa mga labi habang hawak ko ang kanyang kamay. Naalala ko nung unang araw ko sa kindergarten – gabi pa lang hinanda na ni Nanay ang uniporme ko, sapatos, bag at lahat ng kailangan ko sa eskwelahan. Araw-araw hanggang sa nakatapos ako ng hayskul, gumigising siya kasabay ko. Siya pa ang nagsusuot sa akin ng medyas at sapatos. Naiiyak ako ng di ko mawari. Ganito pala ang pakiramdam. Ako naman ngayon.<br /><br />***<br />“Nanay, basahin natin ‘tong Sleeping Be... be...a...u...ti. Turuan mo na kasi kong mag-Ingles,” pangungulit ko sa aking inay. Masipag akong magaral noong ako’y bata pa pero ang pinakahilig ko ay magbasa – ng malakas! Iniiba-iba ko pa ang boses ko noon lalo na pag nagbabasa ako ng Funny komiks; nagboboses bata ako, boses matanda, boses robot, boses butiki.<br /><br />“Si Tatay ang magtuturo sa iyong mag-Ingles,” sabay turo nya sa aking Tatay na agad namang kukuha ng libro at tatawagin ako. Hindi ko alam kung bakit ayaw na akong turuan ni Nanay samantalang siya ang nagturo sa akin ng abakada at pagbibilang. Siguro dahil masyado siyang abala sa pagluluto.<br /><br />Hanggang sa makarating ako ng unang baitang. Medyo bihasa na kong mag-Ingles noon ngunit doon din nagsimulang dumalang ang pagtuturo sa kin ni Nanay. Ngunit lagi nya pa din akong pinapabasa ng libro at tuwing hapon ay parang Martial Law dahil bawal manood ng TV hangga’t hindi natatapos ang takdang-aralin. Nagbunga naman lahat ng iyon dahil lagi akong naguuwi ng medalya. Tuwang tuwa ako pag nakikita ko ang ngiti sa mukha ni Nanay, pagkatapos noon ay bibilhan niya ako ng hamburger o di kaya’y sosorpresahin ng bagong mga libro.<br /><br />Nasa ikatlong baitang ako noon, mahigpit ang kompetisyon sa klase. Nakakatawa mang isipin ngayon, umiiyak ako kapag hindi ako nakakakuha ng kompletong marka sa mga pagsusulit. Naalala ko isang beses, magpapasa kami ng proyekto noon sa Hekasi, ngunit hindi ko natapos. Ayoko nang pumasok noon dahil wala akong ipapasa pero sabi ni Nanay ay tatapusin niya daw at ihahatid sa eskwelahan ng umaga ding iyon. Nagantay ako buong umaga, tingin ako ng tingin sa bintana. Hanggang sa sinabi ng guro namin, “Ipasa niyo na ang mga proyekto niyo. Ang tatlong pinakamaganda ay isasabit natin sa harap.” Pakiramdam ko noon ay maiihi ako sa salawal ko. Bakit hindi dumating si Nanay?<br /><br />Nung umuwi ako ng hapon na iyon ay padabog kong sinara ang pinto at hinagis ang baunan ko sa lamesa. Binali ko din ang headband na binili ni Nanay sa inis ko. Hindi ko siya kinausap ng isang araw. Pero deadma lang siya. Hindi man lang nagsorry.<br /><br />Nakapagtapos ako ng elementarya sa loob lamang ng limang taon at sa limang taon na iyon ay nagkaroon ako ng 18 medalya. Naging iskolar ako nung hayskul at sa awa ng Diyos ay nagtapos bilang valedictorian. Ang saya saya ko noon. Pakiramdam ko, ako ang pinakamatalino sa buong mundo. Paguwi namin ni Nanay ay sinorpresa nila ako ng engrandeng handaan. Andun ang lolo’t lola ko pati na din ang iba naming kamaganak.<br /><br />“Ipakita mo sa kanila ang mga medalya mo,” panghihikayat ni Nanay.<br /><br />Hinalungkat ko ang pinakamalaking aparador sa bahay kung saan nilalagay ni Nanay ang lahat ng mga importanteng kagamitan. Lagi niyang pinapaalala sa akin ang importansya ng edukasyon. Tinuturing niyang totoong ginto ang mga medalyang tanso lang naman talaga.<br /><br />Palabas na sana ako ng mahagip ng aking mga mata ang isang kumpol ng mga papel na naninilaw at halatang luma na. Binuklat ko ito – ang aking proyekto sa Hekasi! Bakit nandito ito? Siguro nakalimutan ni Nanay na ihatid ito noon. Tinignan ko isa isa ang mga pahina at di ko napigilang humanga sa aking sulatkamay. Aba’y lagi pa nga akong pinupuri ng mga guro ko noon dahil napakahusay ko daw sumulat. Ngunit nakita ko ang mga sumunod na mga pahina... tila ba isinulat ng isang batang nagsisimula pa lamang magaral; naghalo ang mga malilit at malalaking letra at mali mali pa nga ang ibang mga salita. Bigla na lang tumulo ang mga luha ko. Eto pala ang dahilan kung bakit hindi niya ibinigay sa akin.<br /><br />Ang nanay ng pinakamatalinong bata sa buong mundo ay hindi pala marunong magsulat.<br /><br />***<br /><br />Kahit mahirap lang kami, nakapagtapos ako ng abogasya at ngayon ay isa na sa pinakamatagumpay na abogada sa lungsod. Hinding hindi ko makakalimutan ang mga natutunan ko sa eskwelahan at higit sa lahat ang natutunan ko kay Nanay. Sinabi ko noon, darating ang araw na ako naman. At ngayon ang araw na iyon. Tuluyan na ngang dumaloy ang pinipigil kong mga luha habang pinagmamasdan si Nanay papasok sa kanyang klase.<br /><br />Ako naman ngayon, Nanay.<br /><span style="font-style: italic;"><br /><br /><br /></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcPOYKnm1x7kpUSMzmLCZNBfWpwtNlQ7dAtigMSAfkvlFgmHnjaWK6ODzj3KwRMwI1jA4MzL2ULeQhI0Ph9TF4KVdAbrOwQBOxH65YqMtt_NMPrjLjNo2U5sX06m3CQO207JwwjdplBAc/s1600-h/DSCN1337.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcPOYKnm1x7kpUSMzmLCZNBfWpwtNlQ7dAtigMSAfkvlFgmHnjaWK6ODzj3KwRMwI1jA4MzL2ULeQhI0Ph9TF4KVdAbrOwQBOxH65YqMtt_NMPrjLjNo2U5sX06m3CQO207JwwjdplBAc/s400/DSCN1337.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360662362940010354" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Me, My Mom, Aunt and Ate<br /></div><span style="font-style: italic;"><br />This is for my Mom- a story inspired by her. I hope someday she'd get to read it.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">I have to say that my Dad couldn't have picked a better wife and my Dad's relatives couldn't hate her more. You see, my paternal Grandma's side was very matapobre. Naalala ko nung minsang naguwi ng babae ang pinsan ko sa ancestral house namin sa Pangasinan, hindi pa nakakaupo yung babae eh pinaalis na ng lola at mga tiyahin ko dahil mukha daw "golddigger at squatter". At least I have an idea kung kanino ako nagmana (sa panglalait lang ha). </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Growing up, nakita ko kung pano maliitin ang nanay ko ng mga kamaganak namin dahil Grade 2 lang ang tinapos niya. Kasalanan ba niya kung maaga silang naulila at walang mga kamaganak na tumulong sa kanila? Ilang beses kong narinig na sinabihan siya ng "walang pinagaralan" kahit ng pinsan kong babae na kaedad ko lang. By the way, it only proves that education cannot buy class and good manners. Mahirap makita kung paano siya api-apihin habang wala ka namang magawa para ipagtanggol siya. Ano bang magagawa ko noon kundi tumahimik at pigilin ang pagiyak? Pero sinabi ko sa sarili ko, "P*tang ina niyong lahat makikita niyo balang araw..." </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Now, me and my sister are having her home-schooled and I consider it one of my greatest achievements. Tuwang tuwa ako lalo na kapag sinasabihan ko siyang bawal manood ng Tayong Dalawa hangga't hindi tapos ang assignment niya. Hehehe... aba'y pagkakataon ko na ding gumanti. </span>things&thongshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03021142740708292655noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5596169383587760967.post-66645744210411677732009-07-08T10:55:00.000-07:002009-07-08T11:34:24.181-07:00Long Live the King! Long Live Love!I never thought that I'd write a post for Michael Jackson. Not that I think he is un-postworthy, it's just that I know everyone's been writing about him the past few days and are very emotional about his death. I'm not a cold heartless bitch but I didn't think I could give Michael Jackson as much outpouring of emotions as other does. And I don't want to write about him just for the sake of writing about him. I don't write about anything unless I am utterly, greatly, moved.<br /><br />I do consider him an ICON. Although I'm not that musically inclined, I tried to reach the higher notes of I'll Be There and You Are Not Alone as a kid. And I did, at one point in my life, try to imitate the moonwalk in vain. I mean, who didn't? I'm sure everyone tried to be a Michael Jackson at one point or another. And I'm not just talking about his creative talents.<br /><br />As a kid, I idolized him and as an adult I tried to understand his actions. Everyone criticized what he's done to his physical appearance - lighter skin, thinner nose, deeper-set eyes and heaven knows what else. We all know it's a plastic surgery that went wrong but maybe (and my guess is just as good as yours) underneath all the facade is just a simple person trying to fit in a crowd - a kid trying so hard to please everyone. Just like me, just like you and just like everyone else.<br /><br />I remember Michael Jackson, I remember "The Way You Make Me Feel" and I remember him changing the music industry and culture, as well. But what I won't forget, is him being a father (biological or not) who brought his daughter to great tears in his funeral.<br /><br />At last I could say - I was utterly, greatly, moved.things&thongshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03021142740708292655noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5596169383587760967.post-25656883759488164952009-06-27T13:21:00.000-07:002009-06-27T13:30:12.127-07:00To The One Who Stil Holds My Heart<span style="font-size:130%;">></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">it's amazing how one person can break your heart</span><br /></span><span style="font-style: italic;font-size:130%;" >but more amazing that you still love him with all the little broken pieces...<br />this is just a very simple poem<br />but it's everything I have to say<br /></span><p class="MsoNormal"><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span></p><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">Just the way he laughs</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">make me smile</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">The stars will be shamed</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">With the twinkle in his eyes</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">I’m at my happiest in his arms</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">And his voice caresses me like a child.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">He tells me I’m beautiful</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">the best thing that happened to his life</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">He makes me at ease and comfortable</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">That I don’t have to pretend otherwise.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">He calms my irrational fears</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">He never made me shed a tear</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">He holds my hand</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">And everything becomes clear.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">He is my guiding star,</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">My angel in the dark.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">He is my soulmate.</span><span style="font-size:130%;"><br /></span><span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:130%;">He is my heart.</span>things&thongshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03021142740708292655noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5596169383587760967.post-11995657883994673222009-06-11T07:44:00.000-07:002009-06-11T12:58:25.777-07:00Independence DayTwo things I rarely talk about - religion and politics. Not because it doesn't interest me but on the contrary, I feel strongly about these things. And I don't want to be like the rest of the imposing crowd who shove their opinions in others’ mouths. I definitely won’t do that BUT thanks to my blog, I can still voice out my POV.<br /><br />I was in 2nd year high school when we had our debate in Social Studies: parliamentary vs. presidential system of governance. I forgot on which side I was but one of my main arguments was that it does not matter what political system we have. The power has always been in the hands of the masses. We had a revolutionary government, heck – even a dictatorial one and we endured both. I always believed we can survive in spite of whatever type of government we have. Unfortunately, I can’t say if that is still the case.<br /><br />After EDSA I, came EDSA 2 which I think was a total disaster, after it was EDSA 3 which was an even more disastrous idea. Not only did those conniving bastards used the legacy of the first EDSA revolution for their own selfish intentions, they also ruined a Philippine honor. What sets apart EDSA I from its contemporaries was the very reason it existed. Filipinos were fighting for freedom - not for a politician, not for a political party, not for a political agenda. Not for anything but freedom.<br /><br />Now, almost every rally has a political motive behind it. Majority of the people participate not because they’re fighting for their ideals but because they are promised a measly 300 pesos for their attendance (based on first-hand experience). Should we blame the users or the ones who allow themselves to be used?<br /><br />What’s killing the country is not the constitutional change but the lack of our nation’s decent leaders and the good judgment of its followers. The rest just don’t care and they’re just as appalling. We’re all waiting for a Rizal or Bonifacio incarnate. But why do we need to wait when we can be the next one?<br /><br />It all starts with a little step.<br /><br />Perhaps, a step as little such as writing a blog about it.things&thongshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03021142740708292655noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5596169383587760967.post-11810946652987222882009-06-06T04:47:00.001-07:002010-06-19T07:23:03.234-07:00I AM GROW UPWarning: If you think I am referring to you, I probably am. So please, spare yourself the humiliation.<br /><br />Note: I wrote this in my journal and reading it now, made me laugh like crazy so I just thought I would share. This is how bitchy I can get (sometimes ^__^). Forgive my arrogance.<br /><br />Aaminin ko, hindi ako super ganda. Siguro minsan, kapag tipong pinalantsa yung buhok ko, nagmake up at nagdamit ng medyo sexy, I can make heads turn. But on an average day - buhaghag na buhok, namamagang eyebags at haggardness na, I doubt kung kahit magbobote eh papansinin ako.<br /><br />Pero more than physical beauty, I take pride in knowing that I am smart. I was accelerated in elementary, studied in a science school in the metro, a lady engineer, freelance writer and sige na nga tama na at baka sabihin niyo nagyayabang ako.<br /><br />At siyempre, the first thing I look for in a partner is yung may utak din. Hindi lahat ng naging boyfriend ko gwapo, pero lahat sila matalino. From the history of China to Coloumb's law of Electromagnetics - I learned it all from my exes. Kaya naman ng nakilala ko si Jon, nawindang ang lola niyo.<br /><br />"Hmm, baka naman sa English lang siya bobo? Malay mo magaling sa Math?<br /><br />Let's just put it this way. Mahina yung pick up niya. Like I have to explain everything. Kahit na tagalog pa.<br /><br />"Well, siguro mahina lang siya sa logic. Pabayaan mo na, gwapo naman eh."<br /><br />Yun lang. Super gwapo niya; maputi, may dimples sa magkabilang pisngi, matangos ang ilong, maganda ang katawan. A total eyecandy. At sabi nga nila - the best accessory is a gorgeous boyfriend. Kaso lang, just like what his other girlfriend said, "Pwede nang pangdisplay, wag mo lang pagsasalitain."<br /><br />And yup, bobo na siya babaero pa. But, we'll get to that later.<br /><br />I remember, nagulat na lang ako at may mga picture comments ako sa friendster. Wow, it nice post!<br /><br />Nung una hindi ko magets. Poste ba? Wala namang poste sa picture ah. Or yung picture caption na pinost ko sa taas?<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Hi. Thanks for your comments. Not sure what you mean though.</span><br /><br />YOUR so pretty and POST is perfect. You can be a model.<br /><br />Ah ok. Pose pala. I didn't attempt to correct him kasi hindi pa naman kami close at mukhang hindi naman siya masyado mahilig magenglish. Nung first time naming magusap sa phone, thank heavens at hindi niya ko pinakitaan ng kanyang eloquence.<br /><br />Days went by. We dated hanggang sa sinagot ko na siya. Overall, he is nice naman; marunong makisama, masipag sa bahay, matiyaga, maasikaso. And our conversations progressed naman kahit paano. Kung dati puro what is your favorite color lang, napagusapan na din namin yung family issues, friendship, work, etc. Though it's not as educational or as profound, at least we can share each other's POVs.<br /><br />Kaso may mga times talaga na sablay siya eh. And I was able to prove na hindi lang talaga siya mentally ungifted sa English, mababa talaga ang kanyang I.Q.<br /><br />Isang araw, nanood kami ng sine - I forgot na what the movie was. All the time, he was checking my phone for text messages, I wasn't checking his. And it's not because hindi ako selosa.<br /><br />"Teka bakit ba kanina ka pa check ng check ng phone ko ha. Patingin nga ng phone mo!"<br /><br />"Lowbat nga eh tignan mo o ayaw mag on."<br /><br />At dinemonstrate niya pa. He pressed on power and totoo nga ayaw mag on. But I snatched his phone away from his hands.<br /><br />"Anong lowbat? Eh tinanggal mo ata ang battery nito eh!" I took the battery cover off and guess what - wala ngang battery.<br /><br />"Please lang wag mo kong gagawin tanga dahil mataas ang IQ ko." Sabay walk out sa sinehan.<br /><br />That night sorry siya ng sorry at kesyo magpapakamatay daw siya and other stupid pananakot. Okay, another chance then. After all, pinapasaya niya naman ako.<br /><br /><br />Babe, nagPERTO na ko ng PISH.<br /><br /><br />Oo na, 29 na ko. MADANDAN na ko.<br /><br />*after a few minutes...<br /><br />Ay, matanda pala.<br /><br /><br />Sige na HAPOY na ko, ashhole, gago, DECKHEAD.<br /><br /><br />Babe, tignan mo 'tong picture. Jan yung pinuntahan namin na RESORTS.<br /><br /><br />I don't wanna BUDTHER you anymore. Sorry if I BUDTHERED you. I'll let you go... but you'll always be TATTOO on my mind.<br /><br /><br />I used to be a cheater but NOT NOW ANYMORE.<br /><br /><br />Bat ba hindi ka nagttext? Don't EGNORE me naman. Basta sundo kita sa GREENHELS mamya.<br /><br /><br />Babe, hindi ako nakapagtext sau kanina. Hinimatay kc ako at dinala sa ospital<br /><br />O__O'<br /><br /><br />I once told him, "<span style="font-weight: bold;">Please, stop making stupid excuses. It's either intelligent excuses or no excuses at all</span>."<br /><br />To which he answered, "Huh anong excuse me? Wala naman akong sinabing excuse me ah."<br /><br />Minsan, gusto ko na talagang tumumbling but nahawa na ata ako ng kabobohan sa kanya. I couldn't let him go. Sayang, super gwapo kasi niya (kung gusto niyo ng pic para patunay just PM me).<br /><br />So, I offered to tutor him. Absolutely for free! Sagot ko pa merienda. Hayyy. Nagbabakasali ako na baka may pagasa pang magimprove ang kanyang mental capacity. After all, he's just 29 at siguro naman may humihinga pa siyang mga brain cells somewhere in between his ears.<br /><br />Pero wala ding kwenta.<br /><br />At wala talaga siyang kwenta because I found out that he cheated on me. And he cheated on me the week before Christmas. He spent Christmas with the girl. I knew because I saw the pics in his phone. And todo deny pa siya sa obvious. Andun na nga yung hard-core evidence. Kesyo nagpose lang daw sila in front of the Christmas tree sa Trinoma at nagloloko yung phone niya kaya Dec 25 ang date.<br /><br />After all I did to him - kahit na lagi akong nagnonose bleed. Aarrrghhhh!<br /><br />But he came back to me (as expected).<br /><br />He called me one day saying that he was sorry and that he wanted to make it up to me. He realized that he really loved me at nadala lang daw siya ng selos.<br /><br />I do admit, I was tempted to take him back. After all, I was used to being with him. In the three months that we were together, araw araw kami magkasama - we would jog in the morning, then he would take me to work, we'd text nonstop in those few hours we're not together, then he would pick me up from work everyday kahit na 5 AM ang out ko at imbiyerna ang mga best friends ko sa kanya. But I felt like I couldn't take it anymore.<br /><br />"Jon, those few days we were apart - I realized a lot of things. I never cheated on you, I tried so hard to be a good girlfriend. May pagkukulang din ako, I was childish and I was a brat but you can never justify what you did. And this is not the first time it happened. Lagi na lang kitang pinapatawad."<br /><br />"Babe mahal na mahal kita. Gagawin ko lahat..."<br /><br />By this time, todo emote na talaga ko..."I don't know. Maybe I need to grow up, you need to grow up... We both need to grow up..."<br /><br />"I AM GROW UP!"<br /><br />Toinks! That was exactly what I needed. Then, I started laughing as in yung tawa na parang bruha.<br /><br />"Bat ka tumatawa?"<br /><br />"Mali yung English mo eh."<br /><br />"I am grown... I grow... I have g-gro... I am matured, babe! Matured na ko!!!"<br /><br />But I wasn't. I started laughing more.<br /><br />"Ayan, sige pagtawanan mo ko. Akala mo ba hindi ko alam na lagi mo kong minamata? Oo na, bobo na ko. Hindi ako kasing talino mo eh.<br /><br />“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh.”<br /><br />Teka lang at bakit ako ang nagsosorry sa kanya?<br /><br />“You know what? Aaminin ko you are not that mentally endowed. And maybe I am at fault dahil pinagtatawanan kita sometimes. Most of the time, pinipigilan ko naman eh. I never compared your intelligence with mine. There’s no use at all. And it’s not just because of your grammar or the way you pronounce words like the way you say pish instead of fish. Alam mo kung anong pinakabobong ginawa mo – yung saktan at lokohin ako.”<br /><br />And ironically, that's when the tears started to flow while I whispered to myself... <span style="font-style: italic;">pero mas bobo ako dahil minahal kita...</span>things&thongshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03021142740708292655noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5596169383587760967.post-49334835429281284972009-05-26T08:23:00.000-07:002009-05-26T09:14:39.384-07:00Cold Summer NightsIn case you've wondered why I haven't updated my blog for a month now - I have been so busy trying to figure things out. Aside from rubbing elbows with death, I'm also trying my best to go back to my normal life and forget that very tragic night which I'll write about when I'm ready. I reckon I'm pretty much back to perfect shape but every now and then... the nightmares come back to visit.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><br />Anyway, it has helped a lot that I went on a summer vacation with my best friends Marvin and Joe and my adorable brother, Rommel. Sadly, on our first day in Puerto Galera, we heard that a motorboat sank and 12 people died. We could have been on the same boat. I'm glad we weren't because only Marvin and Rommel know how to swim. I also kind of know how to, like I can float for a few seconds, but when someone talks to me, I swear I'll start sinking.<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixwqH0NSlHyk21nZQJwrF9iucpbpSw07f4ujGzShX4J8ZTlkUHSnb3H0hnSXy10StexlKS6b_Gr_XEwnLZ4NODEL1E-QDkx4TCqb4389w2_ESjcKuYEOuuQiQ1AJz1F0gpRy5asBTr0H4/s1600-h/DSCN1452.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixwqH0NSlHyk21nZQJwrF9iucpbpSw07f4ujGzShX4J8ZTlkUHSnb3H0hnSXy10StexlKS6b_Gr_XEwnLZ4NODEL1E-QDkx4TCqb4389w2_ESjcKuYEOuuQiQ1AJz1F0gpRy5asBTr0H4/s400/DSCN1452.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340159127369996066" border="0" /></a><br />funny friendly faces<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;">On a lighter note, we had a blast! Kebabs, mindoro fling er-- mindoro sling, kahlua, barbeques, sinigang, grilled squid, gays dancing, fruit shakes, hot guys and girls (for Rommel) were all over the place. I had a massage right by the beach and had my hair braided. I skipped the henna tattoo or else I'll be enticed to get a real one. Our mornings were spent taking hilarious pictures and nights were for dancing like crazy. Of course, people looked at us all the time like as if we got out of some mental institutions but we're used to it. Really.<br /><br /></div></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5QK0omIQH7jj0P1b4eJ1pm4tqksJzfXsTln2J8dDr7KgQIPlY4iCuv13i8-pC8V6w5iwbJMVGBxzR4o31BR-U7hu01-s4u_JYv8ipDT3OA0Ukqx5lVaRc8JJ_b_EmdyqpYDdtUZvSGqE/s1600-h/DSCN1540.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5QK0omIQH7jj0P1b4eJ1pm4tqksJzfXsTln2J8dDr7KgQIPlY4iCuv13i8-pC8V6w5iwbJMVGBxzR4o31BR-U7hu01-s4u_JYv8ipDT3OA0Ukqx5lVaRc8JJ_b_EmdyqpYDdtUZvSGqE/s400/DSCN1540.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340159861231324050" border="0" /></a><br />my brother said he's glad we don't look alike so he can deny I'm his sister in case I do something stupid<br /></div><br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi47b6qpIKe6PUVj907TfAdqZgFLfT62z88zppA1XPYXIR59gljzWLe5m-oOkmuBBEi4KnJYMjLCYMrgZUIforLWq-UBlUB72Rx0esosPKmKa-iFgfZsSzwtC2Zz8FyMjdGOC-o3N7P68Y/s1600-h/DSCN1549.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 328px; height: 456px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi47b6qpIKe6PUVj907TfAdqZgFLfT62z88zppA1XPYXIR59gljzWLe5m-oOkmuBBEi4KnJYMjLCYMrgZUIforLWq-UBlUB72Rx0esosPKmKa-iFgfZsSzwtC2Zz8FyMjdGOC-o3N7P68Y/s400/DSCN1549.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340160543788876082" border="0" /></a><br />One of those nicer shots<br /><br /><br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfV0E28syrrne0jCzmg4gM9WiygUDxN1LIxI_Dr-2kdlvELfnvF7Vm_8VMq6kzMBvOLX7bA3onq_hC8enaKygA18x6WpyTkavW_aQZ1t2U2LD4cfMslzAKpZKdAUW7P_8ZTV7PEp0xvco/s1600-h/DSCN1558.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 456px; height: 274px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhfV0E28syrrne0jCzmg4gM9WiygUDxN1LIxI_Dr-2kdlvELfnvF7Vm_8VMq6kzMBvOLX7bA3onq_hC8enaKygA18x6WpyTkavW_aQZ1t2U2LD4cfMslzAKpZKdAUW7P_8ZTV7PEp0xvco/s400/DSCN1558.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340161272481503890" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: center;"><br />I had a hard time trying to suck all my stomach in<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDrZs3olvwg6usTwL1HpkggKLr5_6AdyyCfpDWWG4CUM9u2yw_OzIENF84OsrUlpwwQgOJliON0B7DN3MdVEN2s9ClemRb6EmDzflJ1fyg_agGXl5ZV1RImDgEl5EGls7dm0GimyJzMNo/s1600-h/DSCN1649.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjDrZs3olvwg6usTwL1HpkggKLr5_6AdyyCfpDWWG4CUM9u2yw_OzIENF84OsrUlpwwQgOJliON0B7DN3MdVEN2s9ClemRb6EmDzflJ1fyg_agGXl5ZV1RImDgEl5EGls7dm0GimyJzMNo/s400/DSCN1649.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340164344130658002" border="0" /></a><br />the jump shots (Rommel was laughing at us all the time)<br /><br /><br /><br /> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrQ6wFEof51L23LAebgDB_5nFFqF6OvL2c54sXEWjy6sF6gFyKd6tqK_BxLaoTe0TT7GElfXYq7egBp0r1ZLwOx7hEIfY4XX2JJ6AvcrFBy9kTWqLHVAy7sFUPJZ1YUiX2fqcRbDZ-k-Y/s1600-h/DSCN1550.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 366px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrQ6wFEof51L23LAebgDB_5nFFqF6OvL2c54sXEWjy6sF6gFyKd6tqK_BxLaoTe0TT7GElfXYq7egBp0r1ZLwOx7hEIfY4XX2JJ6AvcrFBy9kTWqLHVAy7sFUPJZ1YUiX2fqcRbDZ-k-Y/s400/DSCN1550.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340164339496872178" border="0" /></a><br />My FHM shot hehe. Of course it's photoshopped<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE9DR2NHcfMb_daJUnaVw9Fe_zv4VfDpL5K_LzUlWxiG_gAjB8YzTgB83lRVCVKTqyuTF0JUCOJCD83gQ_YiVOrY8Wus7JOtVs8_OGsuKLFmSEgFaxQWXXFFseYOb29MDIySBiNELYyrM/s1600-h/DSCN1759.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhE9DR2NHcfMb_daJUnaVw9Fe_zv4VfDpL5K_LzUlWxiG_gAjB8YzTgB83lRVCVKTqyuTF0JUCOJCD83gQ_YiVOrY8Wus7JOtVs8_OGsuKLFmSEgFaxQWXXFFseYOb29MDIySBiNELYyrM/s400/DSCN1759.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340166453792942066" border="0" /></a><br />taken before we left our room<br /><br /><br /><br /> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjJXHZOzODnpVrOvN08jRrP-GyuibVmW5nAYKZKFOs94LI9Qjnt5HgEoLN8-w5buFTYQMkeR6yReZ4y5uyXGoQBpi0_bV-1UZqjZ5CDOnl1x35OFNoaOSWa9CxC3vam6CwjDUYlwhVsVs/s1600-h/DSCN1566.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 294px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjJXHZOzODnpVrOvN08jRrP-GyuibVmW5nAYKZKFOs94LI9Qjnt5HgEoLN8-w5buFTYQMkeR6yReZ4y5uyXGoQBpi0_bV-1UZqjZ5CDOnl1x35OFNoaOSWa9CxC3vam6CwjDUYlwhVsVs/s400/DSCN1566.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340164340224647282" border="0" /></a><br />Here's to hoping I don't get too dark<br /><br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0XBFB0MxAHNyMYY1Aw2bZBkC9ldjSJgkUB-8MwYUYy2A4PZT7hVYSd7NWPHrDWgcm4EXRhqkWZYsZD6mqa9AZU-Dxr2Bc-PBBvEFaYMUl_V_WIwzV4FdrmArRBtAJv39M8Mag2IDxeNQ/s1600-h/DSCN1692.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 286px; height: 400px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0XBFB0MxAHNyMYY1Aw2bZBkC9ldjSJgkUB-8MwYUYy2A4PZT7hVYSd7NWPHrDWgcm4EXRhqkWZYsZD6mqa9AZU-Dxr2Bc-PBBvEFaYMUl_V_WIwzV4FdrmArRBtAJv39M8Mag2IDxeNQ/s400/DSCN1692.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5340161749467735106" border="0" /></a><br />and lastly, my favorite picture of the bunch - taken to remind someone what he's missing. Did I sense some bitterness there? lol<br /><br /><br /></div>things&thongshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03021142740708292655noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5596169383587760967.post-43312416058849662652009-04-11T07:57:00.000-07:002009-04-11T08:13:35.416-07:00Lessons on the Floor<span style="font-style: italic;">*This is dedicated to everyone who has been a call center agent. More posts about the call center life soon.</span><br /><br /><br />Education is an admirable thing, but it is well to remember from time to time that nothing that is worth knowing can be taught – Oscar Wilde<br /><br />Graduating with an engineering degree, I thought I was fully equipped with everything I need to embark on my journey as a full-pledge member of the working mass. But nothing, not even the fact that I spent almost half of my college life as a working student primed me for that whole new world out there. When I decided that I want to work in the flourishing call center industry, I was brimming with confidence. I thought I was ready to conquer. But I can’t be more wrong. <br /><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigPoirW9thtwm2d-RdO6QheUR4DhTLhqIoFQhU-SlsJmL0t9dZ9sSKlNf4dilocZ2E089YgnzLO_IFOanHM0GGsAg_a-GgzSQoyPB7zbkvClCrEIJi-M29qrLkkk_3S-QB6bhSevz9m6U/s1600-h/ccenter.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 264px; height: 323px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigPoirW9thtwm2d-RdO6QheUR4DhTLhqIoFQhU-SlsJmL0t9dZ9sSKlNf4dilocZ2E089YgnzLO_IFOanHM0GGsAg_a-GgzSQoyPB7zbkvClCrEIJi-M29qrLkkk_3S-QB6bhSevz9m6U/s400/ccenter.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5323451263477830050" border="0" /></a>Curly call center agent in 2007 (don't look at my eyebags pls)<br /></div><br />Aside from the fact that I flunked my first interview, my first months in the call center were a real challenge. I had to work overtime for a special English training since I kept stuttering on the phone. There were times when I wanted to quit, there were those calls that I thought would never end. And there were days of pure depression. <br /><br />Nothing has prepared me for it. This is life – outside of the four walls of the classroom. Most of the time there are no retakes, special projects or room for mistakes. That’s when I realized it’s true; if you thought your professor was a terror wait ‘til you meet your supervisor and when all the theories and postulates can’t help you solve the problem, look around and start picking up lessons - lessons on the floor.<br /><br />An irate customer asking for a supervisor, a talkative grandma who refuses to put the phone down, a billing or technical issue more complicated than a differential calculus problem– every call center agent dreads these kinds of calls. But I learned that this too shall pass. Every call is bound to end; it may take 10, 20 or heaven forbid 30 minutes but it will end. Just as every bad hair day, every heartache and broken period of your life will. It is just a matter of time. <br /><br />One important call driver, and for me the most difficult to attain, is Average Handling Time or AHT. Seize the day – almost everyone has told me that. But not until I worked in this time-conscious industry, have I learned that every second is truly important. Every second contributes to every minute of every hour of my life that not one should be wasted in dead air or in a moment of not knowing what to do. Same in life – be dynamic, constantly seek and create defining moments.<br /><br />Now, we sit around all day and we don’t sweat or overwork a muscle but it doesn’t mean that working in the call center is not a stressful job. There are times when it just gets to you – the complaints, the never-ending questions and technical problems, the waking up so early in the morning, the struggle of trying to stay awake when everyone else is soundly sleeping. It’s simply hard. But it is all a matter of proper mindset. Everything is.<br /><br />Never assume. Mistakes are mostly born out of wrong assumptions. In this industry based on facts, this is a major blunder. That is why I have learned to always ask relevant questions and practice probing skills. Everything has an answer; it is just a matter of knowing the right questions to ask.<br /><br />Lastly, when in doubt – log out. Well, not literally log-out but perhaps pause for a moment, take a deep breath, ask a question or escalate to Level 2. There are times when letting go is as noble as holding on. Don’t hold too long and too much when you know that things are irreparable and it is beyond your control to take actions. Learn to let go but do it in the proper way (don’t press release, okay?).<br /><br />These are just some of the lessons that helped me survive every single day on the floor. These were the same things I have been taught of all my life. Not that I didn’t listen, it’s just that the most important lessons in life can never be taught - they have to be learned.things&thongshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03021142740708292655noreply@blogger.com11tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5596169383587760967.post-68181377376185138112009-03-22T18:36:00.000-07:002009-03-25T01:59:24.968-07:00Not Made for Gym and Diet?Note: For you Melai, as requested :)<br /><br />One of the cons of working at home is that I sit all day watching my tummy grow from big to huge. Lately, I am having a hard time fitting into my old jeans (old means a couple of months old) and I'm scared to buy new ones in fear of learning that I have grown a size bigger.<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Saleslady: Mam, ano pong size?</span> <span style="font-style: italic;"><br />Me: Mmmm... 26.</span> <span style="font-style: italic;">Saleslday: (looks from head to toe)</span> <br /><span style="font-style: italic;">after a couple of minutes...</span> <br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Me: Sige Miss. Hindi kasya eh.</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Saleslady: (murmurs to herself) Sabi na nga ba eh. Feelingera! 26 lang daw waistline.</span><br /><br />I hear my friends and family tell me all the time that I am getting fat, my tummy's getting bigger, I can no longer fit in the screen when they're taking my pictures and I've practically heard all synonyms of the word "fat" in the last couple of weeks. And it doesn't help that I'm an emotional eater - meaning I eat when I'm sad, I eat when I'm happy and I eat with every chance I get. <br /><br />Losing weight means hard work and discipline, which is exactly the problem. I lack both.<br /><br />- I tried the no rice diet for a week and felt lighter but the excess weight immediately returned after I consumed cups and cups of rice like a rice-starved prisoner.<br />FACT 1: I CAN'T LIVE WITHOUT RICE.<br /><br />- I tried to enroll in a gym and paid one year membership fee to remind myself to go everyday otherwise I have to blame myself for wasting my hard-earned money.<br />FACT 2: I'M STILL BLAMING MYSELF UP UNTIL NOW FOR WASTING HARD-EARNED MONEY.<br /><br />- I tried those slimming capsules, slimming tea, Nesvita and all other L-carnitine drinks (whatever that is), green tea capsules and all other capsules except space capsule (corny) and I probably lost an imaginary one or two inches off my waistline but the thing is it immediately comes back after drinking iced tea and coke.<br />FACT 3: SLIMMING DRINKS WON'T WORK UNLESS YOU WANT TO DRINK BIGUERLAI EVERYDAY FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE.<br /><br />- Being a Limewire addict, I also downloaded Hiphop abs and Pilates workout videos but I kept pressing the fast forward button everytime I have to lie on my back, do a legsplit or an egg roll and when I have to touch the back of my knee with my tongue.<br />FACT 4: WORKOUT VIDEOS ARE JUST FOR YOUR EYES AND SHOULD NEVER BE TRIED AT HOME.<br /><br />And so I didn't attempt to lose weight until recently. I don't know whatever has gotten into me but I just decided that - this is it! I went to Fitness First Eastwood and spent a day at the gym. The trainer weighed me and to my utter shock I found out I'm already 125 lbs. My second fattest moment was when I was working at Sykes back in 2006 and I was only 118 lbs then. She also measured my body fat index and I was only 2 points away from the risky stage. That day I just told myself to do it.<br /><br />I bought a 2-piece swimsuit at Tiendesitas, wore it and took pictures of myself using my cam (I will die first before I'll show it to anyone and by then I'm sure no one will want to see a dead person wearing a swimsuit 2 sizes smaller). I then disgusted myself by looking at my layers and layers of flabs. While doing that, I kept telling myself that four months later, I will fit beautifully into those little pieces of clothes. I also looked at my friends' pictures (specifically Andrea and Tracy looking oh so thin and criticized how fat I look when I'm with them).<br /><br />TIP 1: Find something that will inspire/disgust/encourage you enough to lose weight. Ex. Paste your picture wearing only your undies besides Heidi Klum's own 2 months after she gave birth to her second child.<br /><br />I started buying fruits and compromised with myself regarding my diet - I will eat rice only during breakfast and lunch. Everything that I eat after 6 comprises of fruits, biscuits and other light stuff. I never believed in denying myself of what I want to eat but I remind myself that there is always a right time and that you can't have it all (in one meal).<br /><br />TIP 2: Make a deal with the devil (devil=yourself). When it comes to losing weight, you are your own worst enemy and best friend. The choice is entirely up to you.<br /><br />Although I'm so lazy to go to the gym, Fitness First offers classes such as Latin, Bellydancing, BodyJam, etc. which to me is a lot more fun than carrying weights and doing situps. I realized that as long as I am enjoying the time I spend at the gym, it all becomes less of a work out and more of a leisure time. Add the fact that I work out alongside Asi Taulava, Carlos Morales, Mike Enriquez and er-- other hunky guys -- this is the wisest decision I made so far.<br /><br />TIP 3: Do something that you truly enjoy until there's no more "work" only fun, fun, fun! If you really can't find any form of exercise or work out that you enjoy, go to a hypnotist who can make you believe that you really are strolling in Paris shopping for Louis Vuitton bags when in reality you are sweating out cleaning your room (all day) and your neighboor's room (all night).<br /><br />Because of the hunky guys in FF, my gay friends are also hooked to working out in the gym. They became my new gym buddies. They tell me when I'm being lazy, when I'm not doing enough work, when I'm cheating, etc. etc. They also stop me from eating rice at night. And they hit me in the head when I stray from my routine and do something stupid like eating 3 donuts from Krispy Kreme.<br /><br />TIP 4: Find a gym buddy or weight loss guru who would torture you when you a) forget to exercise b) eat chocolate c) sleep all day. Remind yourself not to kill your friend when he takes away your super supreme pizza.<br /><br />I'm not criticizing anyone and I don't have anything against fat people. It's just that I prefer myself leaner and able to pose wearing swimsuits without looking like an overripe banana. And I think I owe it to myself to be fit, fabulous and sexy. Also, I'm not advertising Fitness First (for those who wants to enroll I can refer you to my agent, just text me). There are a lot of other ways to work out. You can jog in Circle, Rizal Park or in your neighborhood. You can also attend cheap 20-peso workout classes in Greenhills and QC Circle during mornings. You can ask your friends to play badminton or patintero or taguang tsinelas. Walk instead of taking the jeep. You can also work double time and walk with your arms from your home to your office. There are a lot of ways to lose weight. It's never an easy task so you should really, really and let me repeat - really, be determined. Think: DIET, EXERCISE and DISCIPLINE. You have to want it bad enough just as much as you want kaldereta and rocky road ice cream.<br /><br />Oh and lastly, don't think about food too much.things&thongshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03021142740708292655noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5596169383587760967.post-20277226980885222362009-03-06T00:19:00.000-08:002009-03-06T00:22:56.316-08:00Alonehow lonely can one's life get?<br />is it when you love someone you can't even touch -<br />you grasp for air to catch his scent<br />look into someone else's eyes hoping to see the twinkle that has always been in his?<br /><br />is it when you live each day in all its naked glory<br />half-awake, never getting to where you want to be<br />and you settle for something less<br />hoping it would get better in time<br /><br />you look at your face in the mirror<br />and you miss the you you've both left behind<br />you hold back your tears and say<br />this is just a phase...<br />a phase that you'll soon get over with<br />the same phase you've been in for the past two years<br /><br />you gather all the courage you could muster<br />and take one step at a time<br />you die with each one<br />because you walk away from fate<br />and you choose not to love<br /><br />someone please tell me...<br />how lonely can one's life get?things&thongshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03021142740708292655noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5596169383587760967.post-42377224857091197752009-02-23T17:19:00.000-08:002009-02-23T17:36:28.282-08:00The Games People PlayI can't believe that even after almost a decade I still find myself losing on a game of Super Mario, of all things!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm_Bs-3Si5pZCcxi-oysFFuIhRLKm-Ke3JL2mttsP9JJstFJeU_THs5uNhnpQ2JHh-8xvlam-au2wx5CyL6Ro-CB5Z-x9a8rAdYrGt3abDqTXdhv6vpjN9WHvmWJXgg0Ma0fMC5R84ZAE/s1600-h/mario.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 191px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm_Bs-3Si5pZCcxi-oysFFuIhRLKm-Ke3JL2mttsP9JJstFJeU_THs5uNhnpQ2JHh-8xvlam-au2wx5CyL6Ro-CB5Z-x9a8rAdYrGt3abDqTXdhv6vpjN9WHvmWJXgg0Ma0fMC5R84ZAE/s320/mario.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306168478546831474" border="0" /></a><div style="text-align: left;">I've always been a gamer, even way back when I was in elementary. Remember when internet cafes were non existent and what we had back then were our very own version of a desktop - TV set and consoles like Nintendo and Family Computer (laughs out loud)? There was this place in the next corner of our street renting out Family Computer units for 40/hr. I was probably in Grade 2 then and me and my brother would often ask our Dad for 40 bucks just so we can play. And when our Dad would finally give in, we'd race to the shop and kill each other on who would be the first to play. Then before we knew it, our one hour is up.<br /><br />Anyway, I won't make this post lengthy. I'm just ranting and now I'm going back to playing Need4Speed Prostreet (which I haven't finished) on my PS2. Gosh, I miss those days when there are only buttons B and A to push.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeEyICSIe8LrVui3Yu4wfkNjlwD4GDA3GVQrJw6jWE08txsnE2DsbYHQZDL2sVUXEoOyUjE4IfEKLtMINSy4T5td8VxbvwcA8f8-ZmiX-85unO4Y9h9qK55JBjM830hUD6nV-CRQSdtPo/s1600-h/Famicom_controllers.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 273px; height: 205px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjeEyICSIe8LrVui3Yu4wfkNjlwD4GDA3GVQrJw6jWE08txsnE2DsbYHQZDL2sVUXEoOyUjE4IfEKLtMINSy4T5td8VxbvwcA8f8-ZmiX-85unO4Y9h9qK55JBjM830hUD6nV-CRQSdtPo/s320/Famicom_controllers.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5306171393493876802" border="0" /></a><br /></div>things&thongshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03021142740708292655noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5596169383587760967.post-12859001365660850972009-02-15T23:07:00.000-08:002009-11-16T11:34:58.760-08:0024<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVeYTMQcV1DkaQDRsOFegdHYjFgbKjSZgtq8cksKnnAMk2cjP3xgKlJay0XyvM7-Z6jvhbBJYhjwqvgozlWmtYYJ90EzWjqiw_Izl8sIntJUY_Kea1uwul6Z59n2-xvgEBNQMfbp9z2fI/s1600-h/DSCN0871+copy.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 240px; height: 320px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVeYTMQcV1DkaQDRsOFegdHYjFgbKjSZgtq8cksKnnAMk2cjP3xgKlJay0XyvM7-Z6jvhbBJYhjwqvgozlWmtYYJ90EzWjqiw_Izl8sIntJUY_Kea1uwul6Z59n2-xvgEBNQMfbp9z2fI/s320/DSCN0871+copy.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5303289700880282194" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: justify;"><span class="nfakPe">Turning</span> <span class="nfakPe">24</span> can be such a deadly thing. Gone are the days of the not-a-girl-not-yet-a-woman phase (so corny!) and the pressure of acting my age is unnerving! My friend referred to this as the quarter-life crisis, which can be so true. Days before my birthday, I found myself staring at the night sky, fighting the urge to recite "starlight, starbright". I became overly sentimental thinking about my inner conflicts and past baggage.<br /></div><br />I realized that a lot of times, I still act like a 7-year old spoiled brat - to my younger brother's expense and at the same time expect him to act like a 20-year old man. Talking about double standards huh. But being childlike keeps me in touch with good memories and my dreams of a happily-ever-after so I guess it's okay as long as I do without my 7-year old tantrums and high pigtails.<br /><br />Looking back, I never would have thought I would end up like this. I had a completely different plan for myself and my family, different values and different beliefs. Don't get me wrong, I don't think I'm less of a person now than what I envisioned myself to be. I just guess this wasn't what I expected. But nevertheless, I'm fabulous and I'm loving it!<br /><br />Career-wise, I'm more determined and hard-working now. Wow! It was not the easiest road to take but not everyone finds a chance, the guts and the nerve to work for themselves. I don't work for IBM or Microsoft or some other big time companies but I'm proud to say that I work for myself and that maybe someday I would have other people say (with beaming pride) that they are proud to work for MY company, too. I don't mean to brag but you have to believe in yourself first before you can make others believe in you. Sometimes, all it takes is faith and a lot of convincing power. Believe me ;)<br /><br />Of course, not everything is going well for me. They say that if you have a booming career then you should expect your love life to be zero. Mine is -1000. And it doesn't help that I'm getting paranoid about hitting thirty. Tick...tock...tick...tock... there goes my biological clock again. Women panic, period. But being single has given me time (lots of it) to reflect on my past relationships - where I went wrong, when I gave less or when I loved too much. I still believe in soulmates and the "one" but I don't think love should be ideal. It exists in all places, knows no time or boundaries. I would still like to end up with the "one" but even if I don't, I know that love will find its way back again. Perhaps, in another person or in another lifetime.<br /><br />I have learned to let go but I know that it's not something that would happen overnight. What's important is that you start somewhere. I still hold on to past pains because it reminds me of everything that I've been through and I've overcome but at the same time I remind myself to let go of the hurt. Not an easy task but oftentimes, the only way to feel love is to remember pain. Forgive but don't forget.<br /><br />All families are dysfunctional (in a way), life is indeed touch and go, people will leave you one way or another, you'll have bad skin and babyfats for at least once in your life. I have to accept that bad things happen to good people (like me) and it's not God being unfair. It's just life. I can list down all my bad experiences and compare notes with other people but what a waste of energy that will be. Right? Remind me again to focus on the good side of things.<br /><br /><span class="nfakPe">Turning</span> <span class="nfakPe">24</span> means a year closer to hitting thirty, being more prone to wrinkles and a whole new level of pressure to settle down and have children and but it also means another year to laugh and love and live.<br /><br />Another round of margarita for me - cheers to aging (gracefully)!things&thongshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03021142740708292655noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5596169383587760967.post-8945709295774767932009-01-15T11:16:00.000-08:002009-01-15T11:20:06.561-08:00Sa Aking PaggisingGumising ako ngayong araw na masama ang pakiramdam. Hindi dahil sa masakit yung likod ko. Hindi din dahil sa sobrang lamig ngayong mga araw na ito. Gumising ako pero sa isang banda, ayokong gumising. Naisip ko, isang araw na naman ang nagdaan - isang araw na walang kabuluhan.<br /><br />Noong bata ako, nangarap akong maging abogado. Ngunit sa pagtanda ko, nakita ko na hindi lang pala ganun kasimple ang pagtupad sa mga pangarap - nagbabago ang mga plano, namamatay ang mga taong akala natin habang buhay nating makakasama, at madalas lumilipas ang oras ng hindi natin namamalayan. Hindi pala lahat ng tao na mabait sa 'tin ay talagang mabait at hindi lahat ng kaibigan ay magiging tapat. Nalaman ko na madalas tayong madadapa at hindi lahat ng sugat ay naghihilom. Minsan pwede mo ngang takpan ng bandaid pero hindi ibig sabihin ay basta na lang itong mawawala. Madalas, akala natin may kasama pa tayo pero hindi natin namamalayan, magisa na lang pala tayo at ang mga pangarap na binuo natin noon ay naglaho na sa ngayon.<br /><br />Kaya nakontento na lang ako na makatapos ng kolehiyo at magpanggap na abogado habang nakikipagdebate sa mga kaibigan tungkol sa kasarian ni Piolo Pascual at kung tatangkad pa ba si GMA. Hindi na ko naniniwalang mabibilhan ko ng bahay at lupa ang nanay ko. Hindi ko din naman inasahan na sa pagtanda ko eh hindi na pala buo ang pamilya namin. Para ano pa? Hindi na din ako umaasang mapagtatapos ko ng kolehiyo and mga kapatid ko. Tingin ko naman, ayaw na din nilang magaral at mas bagay sa kanila ang maging gangster. At ang lalaking mahal ko, hindi na ko naniniwalang babalik siya, kaya ba't pa ako magaantay? Sayang lang ang makeup. <br /><br />Pero ngayon, ang buhay ko isang malaking doughnut - butas sa gitna. Lahat ng ginagawa ko ngayon, wala ng saysay. Gumigising na lang ako dahil sa nagigising ako at hindi dahil may mga pangarap akong gustong tuparin, hindi dahil may mga tao akong gustong pasayahin at hindi dahil sa may kabuluhan ang buhay ko. Marahil aantayin ko na lang ang araw na hindi na ako gigising pa, at kung tatanungin ako ng Diyos kung sakali mang makakarating ako sa langit - "Anong ginawa mo sa buhay na pinagkaloob ko sa iyo?" Marahil ang isasagot ko lang ay isang malaking question mark.<br /><br />Ngunit bakit ko nga ba hahayaang mangyari ito? Oo nga lahat ng bagay nagbabago pero may mga ibang bagay na hindi. Exactly my point, ano pa nga bang saysay ng buhay kung sasabay ka lang sa agos nito? Kailangan mong hanapin ang daang tatahakin mo, patuloy na mangarap para magkaroon ng inspirasyon at masaktan para matutong magmahal muli. Hindi tayo nabubuhay para maging robot lang at maging sunud-sunuran sa paniniwala ng ibang tao o sa dinidikta ng ating kultura o komunidad. Nabubuhay tayo para mangarap, magmahal at lumikha ng mga bagay na makubuluhan. At pag dumating ang araw na makaharap natin Siya may maisasagot tayo, "Madami akong nagawa sa buhay ko."<br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">When life has meaning, you can bear almost anything. Without it, nothing is bearable.</span>things&thongshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03021142740708292655noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5596169383587760967.post-71015188834795392892009-01-07T19:32:00.000-08:002009-01-07T20:21:13.836-08:00Same Old New 2009Yay! This is my first post for 2009.<br /><br />I wish I could say 2008 ended with a bang for me. But not quite. I spent my Christmas hopping from house to house (Mom's to Grandpa's to a distant relative's). And I couldn't spell BORING more than sleeping throughout New Year's Eve. That's right. I was sleeping just when the clock struck 12 AM.<br /><br />Oh and I got a couple of bath towels for Christmas (lol )and some cash which I really need (tyvm). I didn't shop for as many gifts as I did last Christmas due to the global financial crisis (it's affected me as well) but 2008 taught me a lot of things and I can say that it has paved the way for a brighter 2009.<br /><br />Just a rundown of some highlights last 2008:<br />- moved out from my Grandpa's house, my home for almost 22 years<br />- resigned from my job as a call center agent<br />- "discovered" better work opportunities<br />- got my visa for Qatar and threw a couple of despedida parties only to withdrew the last minute<br />- stayed single (yey!)<br />- had my hair rebonded for the first time<br />- learned French (c'est dificile)<br />- wore a two-piece (for the first time too) with pics to boot<br />- got a US number<br />- closed a couple of "business deals"<br />- wrote a draft for my novel<br />- went to some beaches I haven't been to before<br />- had lighter skin<br />- bought my very first laptop<br />- rediscovered the meaning of "true" friendship and love<br /><br />Of course, I had a lot of challenges too but ironically, I could only remember all the good things that happened to me. I'm thankful for the love from my family and friends and I can definitely say I love myself more and life just keeps getting better!<br /><br />According to Female Network's 2009 prediction, 2009 is the year to bring Aquarians out into the world and that makes me even more excited. I take it from experience - their predictions are likely to be accurate. You can check out yours here --> http://www.femalenetwork.com/girltalk/index.php/topic,193330.0.html<br /><br />Cheers to 2009!<br /><b></b>things&thongshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03021142740708292655noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5596169383587760967.post-81800771611343589922008-12-11T05:25:00.000-08:002008-12-11T05:35:48.118-08:00Love Reincarnate<span style="font-style: italic;">"Please bring him back to me."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Ah." The Master was thoughtful. "What would you do if I brought him back? Would you love him better? Or would you just love him because of what he could do for you?"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"I would love him unconditionally." She replied like that because the Master always emphasized that they had been born to learn unconditional love. But he laughed at her answer.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"You can love him unconditionally now. You don't need to see him. The only reason you want to see him is so you can get something from him." The Master shook his head. "I have seen you go through this more times than you remember. When you are with him it is all feverish. You become so entangled, so attached. Is it any wonder the universe should take him from you? No, you don't need him. You have me, you have God. It is enough that we love you." </span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">Once more, though, he read her mind.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"I see that all this pain is good for you," he said. "It turns you back to your inner self. You do not have to be so emotionally needy. Close your eyes and be still." He tapped her on the head once again with his rose. "Go now. Rest."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">She was shocked at the sudden dismissal. "But I am still so hurt."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"Emotions come and go - your hurt cannot last."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">She stood up reluctantly. "Will I see him again?"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">The Master closed his eyes briefly. "Yes."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">"In this life?"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style: italic;">But that question he would not answer.</span><br /><br />- Christopher Pike, The Midnight Clubthings&thongshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03021142740708292655noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5596169383587760967.post-48181809413673147642008-12-11T05:07:00.000-08:002008-12-11T05:24:57.113-08:00After a while (a life without him)<span style="font-family:georgia;">I cannot imagine how hard it must to be for you. I'm really happy to get a mail from you. I'm happy to know you haven't forgotten me even if you should... By my side I'm still thinking of you and I miss you a lot but i feel powerless. I wish to do many things but i can't. Meeting you was wonderful and at the same time the most </span><span class="nfakPe" style="font-family:georgia;">hurtful</span><span style="font-family:georgia;"> thing that happened in my life. I wish to tell you so many things but i shouldn't. Just want to let you know you are a really important person for me and you will always be. Take care. </span><br /><span style="font-family:georgia;">- an email from him| read for the nth time</span><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center; font-style: italic;">It's been a while<br />and i'm back to my life<br />dark and uninspired<br />without you.<br />Words just seem to jumble<br />i couldn't find the rhyme<br />everything's a black hole.<br />I used to pull tricks off my sleeves<br />but they're now sand on my hands<br />slipping away.<br /><br />My world is a big mess<br />i can't pick up the pieces<br />i fall everytime i try to make a stand<br />i try to move forward but i always fall behind,<br />I used to be happy on my own<br />but now i never felt more alone<br />i'm slipping<br />slipping away...<br /><br />It's been a while<br />and i'm back to my life without you<br />i'm trying to be strong<br />trying to move on<br />i hide each tear with my smiles<br />laughter is the best disguise<br />im glad to be free<br />but when its only me<br />the lights go dim<br />and i'm slowly slipping<br />slipping away...</div>things&thongshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03021142740708292655noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5596169383587760967.post-91431639144418009242008-11-17T08:38:00.000-08:002008-11-17T09:46:54.775-08:00The Free Sprit<em>I dont know if this is normal or if it’s only brought about by hormonal imbalance or PMS. But this has been bugging me for days now. Months actually.</em><br /><br /><em>I always believed that I am the kind of person that cannot be caged. I love to be free, i hate rules, i hate monotony. I love to be random, unpredictable - spontaneous. But I also know that it’s practically impossible in this life. Or in my life at least.</em><br /><br /><em>My life has been governed by rules; bawal kumain ng kendi - masisira ang ngipin, bawal umabsent, bawal manood hanggang hating-gabi, bawal magtelebabad, bawal magkalat.<br />Up until now... bawal umalis ng hindi naglilinis ng bahay, bawal magkaboyfriend ng hindi naayon sa standards ng "Familia Zaragozza", bawal magasawa hanggat hindi nakakabili ng bahay at lupa para sa nanay, bawal ang gumimik ng walang paalam, bawal bumukod ng bahay, bawal maging makasarili.</em><br /><br /><em>All my life - I’ve been living for other people. I live my life to fulfill their dreams, to make them happy, to make myself what they think I should be. I am so fucking tired of living this life when all I want to be is free. (Naks parang kanta…) </em><br /><br /><em>If I had my way, I’ll just live in a secluded island. Perhaps with the guy my Mom warned me about. I’ll just spend each afternoon reading a book or sleeping or maybe trying to learn how to swim instead of answering calls. I wanna break free. Hindi ko maintindihan kung bakit parang napacomplicated ng buhay eh pwede namang maging hindi. Bakit hindi nila makita?</em><br /><br /><em>I wanna be selfish. Ilang beses ko na bang sinabi yan sa sarili ko. Ilang New Year’s Resolution na. This year I promise that I will love myself more. I will learn to say no more often. I will fight for myself and for what I truly believe in. Pero hindi pa rin. I still feel that a part of me is locked up in a cage.</em><br /><br /><em>So ano nga bang ending ng entry ko na ito… hayyy ewan ko.</em><br /><br />by: Karissa<br />Monday, August 28th, 2006<br /><br /><br />Yes, that was me 2 years ago. I was one of the many struggling call center agents who is kept awake in the wee hours of the morning by 3 mugs of coffee or so. My routine back then was go to work, sleep (in the girl's sleeping quarters), go to school, go home, sleep (in my bedroom), eat, take a bath, curse myself for being late while rushing to log on my Avaya and work again. I missed a lot of things back then because I was always sleeping. When my brother punched my cousin and my cousin's tooth got knocked out... I was sleeping. I didn't have a single idea my youngest brother was having issues at home... because I was sleeping. When my cousin won the horserace and gave out 500-peso bills, I got nothing because (guess what?) I was sleeping. <br /><br />I didn't have the time and financial freedom back then and so I had no choice but to depend on my family, most especially my Grandpa who's like a five-star general in terms of the way he commands everyone to behave (straight body, stomach in-chest out, hair neatly tied up in a ponytail, no nail polish, no jewelries, no skirt, no boys, no phone calls, etc.). I wanted to be free but at the same time, I couldn't afford it. Living on my own means more expenses, no flat screen TV, no AC, no big house, no food I could steal for my midnight urges and no ice cream every Sunday. With my meager income, I was just making enough. Until he almost threw me out of the house. That's when I realize that I am responsible for my own freedom. If I rely on someone - I will never be free. If I base my happiness on others, my dreams, my expectations... I will always be locked up in an invisible cage.<br /><br />Breaking free doesn't end there. Freedom also means being being responsible for your own fate, setting your own rules and believing in your principles. Freedom means blaming yourself and not other people when things don't go your way. Freedom will always come with a price. But it's a price worth fighting for. (Ay teka? Nov pa lang ba? Akala ko June 12 na - Independence day hahahaha)<br /><br />This was a line I read from Tuesdays with Morrie:<br /><br /><strong>The people who get on in this life are the people who look for the circumstances they want. And if they can't find them, they make them.</strong><br /><br />So ano nga bang ending ng entry ko na ito…<br /><br />I now know.<br /><br />I'm still not in a secluded island and not with a tanned, shirtless guy. I'm not spending each afternoon resting my ass off or trying to learn how to swim. But I have broken free and I have gained a deeper perspective on what it means. I'm no longer living at my Grandpa's house but rather in a small room with no AC and no flat screen. I pay for my expenses and more. I found the perfect job which gives me the financial and time freedom I've always wanted. I wake up anytime I want and I can go out without making an elaborate plan on how to escape.<br /><br /><strong>I can do more and be more because I know at the end of the day I only have myself to thank or blame.</strong>things&thongshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03021142740708292655noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5596169383587760967.post-14853156490284860682008-10-25T10:23:00.000-07:002008-10-25T10:39:55.288-07:00Nights in a Decade<em>Do good things never last? Yes, never for a long time at least. The greatest things that will ever happen in your life will happen in a few seconds, a few days, a few years. It will come as swiftly as a morning breeze; just to whisper in your ear, to give you hope, to give you something to work hard for and dream of. You'll never know what you're missing until you find it, and you'll never be complete once you lose it. That is the tragedy of life; the deeper the love, the more it hurts. It always comes together - pain and love. And as always, it is the one thing that remains constant in my life, as well as everybody else's.</em><br /><br /><br />***It's been almost a year pero ngayon lang ako nakakapagmove on. Ang hirap kasi lagi akong nadedepress before... iyak ng iyak. Naiinis na sa kin mga kaibigan ko dahil wala akong ibang sinabi kundi alex alex alex. Pero sa totoo lang wala na siya at hindi na siya babalik. Finally, natanggap ko na din yun and ngayon I wanna be happy again. Sana maging in a relationship na uli status ko sa friendster lol.***<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><p><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5261145187774740114" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 213px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFVwN2yAzH68tWUzWc9lNApZMe1ojN0ESwXILZ56Tdz9jRA35cQVAElbgwmNznRaHHeEpdTOvLvbnL8RwHzKkM9zA3k5J3Nl3Np6dru5j8Q-UBnG7axcVwI8mSsB5XX7-gZSC1yVJgaCQ/s320/Alex-024.jpg" border="0" /></p><p><br /></p>To Alex:<br /><br /><br /><br />Remember you told me a few days after you left that you were my greatest test?<br /><br />The day I met you I was unsure of where I was. I was in a relationship that has been emotionally tiring. I have long fallen out of love. One of the reasons was because I felt that I could have so much more and that I could be treated better… loved better. But I stayed because I cared for him and I told myself I can settle while waiting for the one. But you told me that being with the wrong person not only means I am miserably with the WRONG PERSON, it also means missing out my chances in finding the right one.<br /><br />You taught me that love is indeed patient and kind. The best lesson I learned with you was that of loving myself more. You taught me that I should never settle for anything less than what I deserve. You taught me people will only treat me the way I allow them to. You taught me that I should be treasured, respected and loved. You taught me that I was worth waiting, worth traveling a thousand miles and worth living sleepless nights for. Every single day that we were together, you made me feel that I was the most beautiful girl in the world that even up to now I still feel (in my own weird way) that I am.<br /><br />I know that most people will never understand what happened but that’s what makes it special. It’s something that only the two of us can ever share. My friends say it was just a fling, a summer romance, a friendship that got out of hand but love is not a switch that you turn on whenever you want and turn off when things get hard. When love comes, it comes and it will stay. That’s what you told me and that was what I exactly felt. We were together for only a week but I treasure each day as if those were our last. Every cab ride, every Starbucks cup, every road and every walkway in every mall that we went to – I cherish them all. All those moments when you gently held my hand and told me that you were happy because of me, those countless times your lips curved as you struggle to speak in Tagalog, all those small coincidences that might as well be miracles where God chose to be anonymous – everything tells me that you came for a reason. And you told me that that reason was for me to learn and pass my test.<br /><br />That is why on the day you called and said you were leaving; I spent my last 500 bucks on a cab ride from Antipolo to Pasay.<br /><br />That is why I chose to hold on to you even when we were separated by a continent or two (not sure… not good at geography) and seven hours.<br /><br />That is why I chose to cry with you while seeing but not being able to hold you during those times we’d chat for endless hours.<br /><br />That is why I chose to spend my money for overseas calls and 15-peso text messages.<br /><br />That is why I chose not to go out on dates and stay faithful to you.<br /><br />That is why I, when you said things got busier, tried to do your part to make the relationship work.<br /><br />That is why I went against my better judgment and made up a lot of reasons to justify why you suddenly changed.<br /><br />That is why I kept calling you even when you no longer answer my calls.<br /><br />That is why I kept sending you emails even when I know you’re no longer reading them.<br /><br />That is why I kept saying goodbye but I’m still not leaving.<br /><br />I chose to hold on to you because you were my greatest test and you told me before that you would do everything for me to pass it.<br /><br />That is why even after a year and 8 months since we last saw each other, a year since our last conversation and 5 months since your last text message, I am still here waiting.<br /><br />I am miserable and I don’t feel loved in any way.<br /><br />But still you taught me my lessons well.<br /><br />I just hope I realized sooner.<br /><br />I’ve finally found the courage to let you go… because I realized that everything you taught me was not about you but about me after all and that my greatest test was not loving you inspite of everything.<br /><br />It was putting and loving myself first despite of all.<br /><br />I never, not even for once, doubted that what we felt for each other was love. Having you was more than a big ego boost. I loved myself more because you loved me. And I know that I can never go back to where I was before I became a better version of me. There’s nothing that I feel for you but love and gratitude for every wonderful moment and for every lesson I learned.<br /><br />And with that I can say at last, I’ve passed my greatest test.<br /><br />And I’m letting myself free, finally.things&thongshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03021142740708292655noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5596169383587760967.post-52742049544182416822008-10-12T07:19:00.000-07:002008-10-14T02:03:54.806-07:00The SwanI was approached by a friend of mine asking me if I could help her with her makeover. I don't know why. Perhaps, it's because I'm the most kikay amongst our circle of friends or maybe because I look like I have nothing else to do. Lol.<br /><br />"Do you think I have a chance at this?" She asked.<br /><br />"Of course."<br /><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Kung ako nga namakeover, ikaw pa kaya.<br /></span><br /><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold">The tale of the stick-thin nerd and the baston pants</span></span></span><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"><br /></span><br />I used to be one of the more popular students in class, I had lots of friends and I was almost a teacher's pet. Then things suddenly turned upside down. I got accelerated to Grade 5, my Dad died, my mom had a row with my Grade 5 teacher, I had to wear eyeglasses and acne started growing all over my face. I was depressed, demoralized and oh, so flat-chested. It didn't help that I barely knew my classmates. Me and the two others who got accelerated were sort of made into outcasts because well, they thought we didn't belong there. My classmates made fun of me ALL THE FUCK*NG TIME. At home was almost the same thing. My dad was gone and there was no one to defend me and lift my spirits up. You see, my dad has always given me an ego boost. He tells me I'm the prettiest of all (when my sister's not listening), he tells me I sing like a nightingale (even though everyone disagrees) and that he is always proud of me. When he died, I lost all that - including my self-confidence. My grades started to drop, I became insecure of my appearance and when my classmates tell me how stupid I look, I almost believed them (how stupid!).<br /><br />Then came high school.<br /><br />I thought things will be different.<br /><br />And it did.<br /><br />Only, it got a lot worse.<br /><br /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC75wOQfwCJd_ilBME3rS-Y1CLW-_JnDRj4r0D5qjDZDL4mgVQq_jVoYyJ-itEqodqWaoGk9DkUz0jn_yZ_H9jhjjNBbqUGxEPco-6NANXM3CAchm99gepo8d7iT6oG0tNAZ20lXYdH6Q/s1600-h/nerd1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256284532194676866" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC75wOQfwCJd_ilBME3rS-Y1CLW-_JnDRj4r0D5qjDZDL4mgVQq_jVoYyJ-itEqodqWaoGk9DkUz0jn_yZ_H9jhjjNBbqUGxEPco-6NANXM3CAchm99gepo8d7iT6oG0tNAZ20lXYdH6Q/s320/nerd1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Freshman at QueSci, 1997<br /></div><br /><br />As if being stick-thin was not enough, I had a skin allergy back when I was in first year. Whereas my classmates called me "bangkay" (corpse), they started calling me "naaagnas na bangkay" (rotting corpse). Looking back now, it was so funny but back then I felt like not going to school anymore. I didn't have a lot of friends. I was always left out, when it was time to group the class into teams, no one wanted to take me. My classmates would deliberately hit me with crumpled papers, switch my softdrinks with one that is already a week old and so on. I was so broke, too. After our lunchtime, I would ask my classmates for their empty coke bottles and exchange them for coins at our canteen. I never had money to buy the things that I want. I only had one pants - the "baston", which everyone was fond of because I look horrible in it. My favorite shirt was a loose LA Lakers shirt which is full of holes because of ant bites (don't ask me why the hell is that) and my shoes were flat, pointed and were one size bigger. There was this one time we had to wear skirts and I opted for a mini skirt, a girl classmate of mine (let's call her Miss M) said I should NEVER IN MY LIFE WEAR A MINISKIRT AGAIN because my legs look like bamboo poles. And then a week before our school field trip, my mom in her fit of rage cut my hair very short. I was a physical and emotional wreck. I was seriously thinking about suicide. That was how miserable my life was.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc5Z103xbj5_KkhlD_MxT_tXN2Se_efmBqUKqnofCfmvBq8cqrXoTaQoYaeMXpbj6hxFnZGpwlS0PvHyH1BT0CUDVwgQATM0HW1ckxUcfCgZp0qWVmv0Dv7GFyuaM69KR31Kl-zEGFS0I/s1600-h/nerd.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256284535821707394" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc5Z103xbj5_KkhlD_MxT_tXN2Se_efmBqUKqnofCfmvBq8cqrXoTaQoYaeMXpbj6hxFnZGpwlS0PvHyH1BT0CUDVwgQATM0HW1ckxUcfCgZp0qWVmv0Dv7GFyuaM69KR31Kl-zEGFS0I/s320/nerd.jpg" border="0" /></a> <div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">Me wearing my uncle's jacket at World Trade Center during the National Science and Technology Week where our team was one of the exhibitors.<br /><br /><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: left"><span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"><span style="font-size:130%;">The Swan Lake</span></span><br /></div><br /><br /></div>But things started to change back in my junior year. I moved out of my Mom's house and back to my grandparent's which was a relief when my grandpa wasn't there. I was able to find new friends who accepted me and gave me a place I belong to. My sister came home from the US for a short vacation and she sort of made me over (plucked my eyebrows, taught me how to put make up, etc) and bought me new clothes. It was still hard at some times. When my Grandpa comes home here, he messes my life. From 100 bucks a day, he changed my allowance to 80. He didn't want me to have a lot of shoes and clothes. I told him once, "Grandpa, mas madami pa nga pong sapatos yung mga katulong natin kesa sa akin eh." (Grandpa, our maids even have more shoes than me). But to no avail. It was the price I have to pay for being his granddaughter.<br /><br />During college, I decided to study at one school where I know no one of my previous classmates will go to. It was a fresh start for me. I began working parttime and things started to get better. There was even a point where I had two jobs at the same time, working as a secretary for MRT and a cashier at my uncle's restaurant. I met a very wonderful guy who kinda reminded me of my Dad. I became used to stooping and keeping my head bowed down and he always reminded me to walk straight with my chin up because he was proud of me and I should be proud of myself, too. I think, that was when I began to realize my selfworth and slowly I regained my self-confidence. I had enough money to go to a dermatologist for my face. I bought a lot of clothes and a lot more shoes. My boyfriend back then pampered me like a baby, treated me like a princess and brought me to different wonderful places. I became more comfortable with my skin, I learned different tricks, I came across Girltalk for beauty tips and so on. There are still times when I feel ugly and fat but most of the time I know I'm beautiful and I guess that's all that matters. And that I can make heads turn, occasionally. Haha.<br /><br />Looking back, I guess I didn't look too fugly but I felt ugly and bad about myself that it ate through the good things until all I could think about was how ugly and how stupid and miserable I am. I guess, that's the first part of any makeover. It should start from within.<br /><br />Now, I just had my hair rebonded, I regularly go to the gym, my dermatologist and malls (to shop or window shop), I try to be positive, I go out with friends, I take a lot of pictures, I eat what I want and go places and I have a blog to celebrate my beauty, este, the beauty of life pala. Hehehe. I know there's still a lot of work to do. I still have a lot to improve about myself. There are times when I hear my brothers or cousins say that I'm too fat but I just laugh it off because I know that there will always be people who will criticize you for your waistline or the way you dress or how dark your skin complexion is. But at the end of the day, there will also be that one person who I know appreciates my not-so-big boobs, my "sun-kissed" color and that little black dress I wear - I've finally learned to love myself again.<br /><br />And just for old time's sake, I checked my old classmates' pictures in Friendster (those who used to make fun of me) and boy I'm so glad to know that I look a hell lot better than them. And oh, I never took your advice Miss M. I think I look fab in mini skirts. Eat your heart out! Beh!<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7-FQWD9t5FsbB9y7M6rck3TeIT9p9wvrE4qodKJZFulWF9iAoMS5-fvvaE8lz1RsOLkaXtWqfV49jpWYnPTZHUwDqIEqzSf09aCR-KTkyKP2-RvlK96UmriL6Uot8GIF0KB4zzZZrWSw/s1600-h/1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256307466622970578" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7-FQWD9t5FsbB9y7M6rck3TeIT9p9wvrE4qodKJZFulWF9iAoMS5-fvvaE8lz1RsOLkaXtWqfV49jpWYnPTZHUwDqIEqzSf09aCR-KTkyKP2-RvlK96UmriL6Uot8GIF0KB4zzZZrWSw/s320/1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">The bamboo poles now<br /><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwKAniwTPFAgKMIyK5NLJe4pwdlGOrRnUswpEFwMdAxOOIPbtValDqwx-b7jQCwiRSRFxr3fHxm6-WdGuZQHltm6RMXs-yv60rZWlqA0qRYfobf0s2VnSJ4R7Ayf0kBGILnlu62xZ6qNQ/s1600-h/1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256284533354287426" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: pointer; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwKAniwTPFAgKMIyK5NLJe4pwdlGOrRnUswpEFwMdAxOOIPbtValDqwx-b7jQCwiRSRFxr3fHxm6-WdGuZQHltm6RMXs-yv60rZWlqA0qRYfobf0s2VnSJ4R7Ayf0kBGILnlu62xZ6qNQ/s320/1.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: center">Finally, the swan! </div>things&thongshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03021142740708292655noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5596169383587760967.post-34782369771634126892008-09-28T04:57:00.000-07:002008-09-28T05:38:25.007-07:00Things n Strings???This post is only for mature audience. Must be 18 years old and above.<br /><br /><span style="font-weight: bold;">This is not called things n thongs for nothing. </span><br /><br />Ehem.<br /><br />One of the things I collect are thongs. I think it's sexy and fun and it's a must to avoid the number one fashion faux pas - VPL. That's visible pantyline fyi! But it doesn't mean I wear them, okay? Only when there's a special occasion or a special person(?) haha. Joke! I really don't wear thongs most of the time for a lot of reasons. Here are some:<br /><br />- First, some thongs make me feel uncomfortable. I can't explain why it is uncomfortable. Just try wearing one and you'll know what I mean. Boys, you can try this, too : P<br /><br />- Second, I like wearing skirts. And I never learned the proper way to get out of a car without exposing my nether regions.<br /><br />- The first time I bought a thong (it was a very thin blue lace thong) my Mom freaked out, asking me why on earth I would even bother to cover myself with it. She spent the rest of the afternoon preaching about decency.<br />"<span style="font-style: italic;">Ano ka? Tinalo mo pa yung mga Japayuki sa suot mo? Para kang hindi disenteng tao! Sunugin mo yan!!!</span>"<br /><br />- During a fashion show at our college, I forgot that I was actually wearing a black thong. With a white skirt! It was too late to go back and change. And with the glaring afternoon sun and the spotlights, let's just say, I wanted to drop out the very next day. And oh, by the way, I was supposed to dress up as a college instructor in that show.<br /><br />- One of my most horrifying experience was because I made a mistake of wearing a thong. It was my final interview at Siemens when all of a sudden, I felt a surge of... Anyway, to cut the story short, I had my period that day. And of course, it's like a raging river on the first day. I didn't know what to do - how do you put a feminine pad on a thong??? From that day on, I refrained from wearing thongs. I just collect them hoping that one day my period will become regular. Sorry, too much information :)<br /><br />Anyway, I got these pictures from an email and I thought I would share this with you. I hope this is not pornography.<br /><br />Do they have this in the market now? I want the last one!<br /><br />Pressenting... the C-STRING!<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo7a5HbdEWisFgc1Ev4nZ2yM480zK7aurBRbIFI9YXEylbcGs7vfENSoOWRQfgTZq1390lC7EizkBz5zp0Q-Vc4e7GagStG9k2_i-k55j983-d_3mF44kY_TfsVP_EIY9DzFUJLlPq9UA/s1600-h/t1.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgo7a5HbdEWisFgc1Ev4nZ2yM480zK7aurBRbIFI9YXEylbcGs7vfENSoOWRQfgTZq1390lC7EizkBz5zp0Q-Vc4e7GagStG9k2_i-k55j983-d_3mF44kY_TfsVP_EIY9DzFUJLlPq9UA/s320/t1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251049404924845202" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRqgUclUH2k2BGdGmZIp8jhzH_9P2nlgoRcevx4Undl7Z4vP9X8stSYhcV-vqLiIp6586CvaRl3UbxV1zk3-M6u0Zmkqkz4zJE262XhnJjScLrwO6nCspWqjyvZSJ0orudcoa0t3lhY8c/s1600-h/t2.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRqgUclUH2k2BGdGmZIp8jhzH_9P2nlgoRcevx4Undl7Z4vP9X8stSYhcV-vqLiIp6586CvaRl3UbxV1zk3-M6u0Zmkqkz4zJE262XhnJjScLrwO6nCspWqjyvZSJ0orudcoa0t3lhY8c/s320/t2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251049401785245122" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-w6jilBEitbe9BSfSyjrOOdtbhPY-ojciZvIGsOtU4hEaYa6FlD9bQw3ox8d0217RPNUhlL6zsvwVm3cnPhIzXTZvBLTyBJ1tt1fKyVsPr3Htt9lkRnu7T86aCblTmXcwzMMeITHQW7Y/s1600-h/t4.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-w6jilBEitbe9BSfSyjrOOdtbhPY-ojciZvIGsOtU4hEaYa6FlD9bQw3ox8d0217RPNUhlL6zsvwVm3cnPhIzXTZvBLTyBJ1tt1fKyVsPr3Htt9lkRnu7T86aCblTmXcwzMMeITHQW7Y/s320/t4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251049403662091826" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixhbrFadqmGXLoQ375cByW_DCfiAYD6mjlqHLFzVg4aDcnd3RRngUgakQvae-iCShEOoLjTvgF_N_TO7CNNL1ZbRgNVheMke6_aXNg7zpSO02vWbwJiO0B_RKHyHVH_ckn8DK36BGMCM8/s1600-h/thong.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 64px; height: 140px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixhbrFadqmGXLoQ375cByW_DCfiAYD6mjlqHLFzVg4aDcnd3RRngUgakQvae-iCShEOoLjTvgF_N_TO7CNNL1ZbRgNVheMke6_aXNg7zpSO02vWbwJiO0B_RKHyHVH_ckn8DK36BGMCM8/s320/thong.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251049987392007554" border="0" /></a><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNw0JnN4UcOyGsyJRuJlQw0Au0b0hkmLDRfyslk_U1T6YtBbsfgTc65MWOCZTWbh_qhf_D4ICi4Ssq01s_TYGADRpqT5u4L7ZLCfZG_dFHLAM90011voi-sYOR2wXYoXToWh7BvYnrFt8/s1600-h/mail.google.com.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 69px; height: 122px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNw0JnN4UcOyGsyJRuJlQw0Au0b0hkmLDRfyslk_U1T6YtBbsfgTc65MWOCZTWbh_qhf_D4ICi4Ssq01s_TYGADRpqT5u4L7ZLCfZG_dFHLAM90011voi-sYOR2wXYoXToWh7BvYnrFt8/s320/mail.google.com.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5251049989673084514" border="0" /></a>things&thongshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03021142740708292655noreply@blogger.com13