Confessions

Now I’m here to talk about something I’ve recently fallen deep in love with. To be able to understand why such thing deserves to be written about, you would have to know who I was back in the days.

I was never a tomboy but I was never fully girly. I was, let us say, in between. I was girly enough to have boy crushes and I felt the need to look pretty, to dress to impress. But I never really did. Dressing up was so tiring I stuck to wearing pants and a shirt. I can’t really remember wearing a dress back in highschool.

This went on until college but my get up was getting a “mix of variety” (redundant again, am I not?). I developed an affinity with shorts and short shorts, probably due to the very lax university dress code: which was pretty much nonexistent. We didn’t have uniforms so imagine the stress of worrying what to wear the next day. After all, I didn’t have an unlimited supply of clothing.

What remained the same throughout all those years were my footwear. I wasn’t a fan of step-ins and sandals and as much as I love wearing closed shoes, I avoid doing so because I easily sweat and that’s very uncomfortable, so I stayed with the ever reliable slippers. Whether they be flat or with heels, slippers were my feet’s best friend.

Now, I don’t know at what exact point in my latter college life I discovered the beauty of shoes. Could be at the exact time I started dressing up for night out in clubs rather than for concerts or gigs. Shoes with heels were suddenly sexy and appropriate and it probably helped that I was only 5’1″ and the tallest guy I met was 6′ or something. (Do not think badly of me, I didn’t sleep with any of them. ha) Or it could be when I bought my first Oxford shoes. Oxford shoes are love and I wouldn’t be shocked if it was the root cause.

I don’t know why I wrote what I just wrote above when I can just sum up this post into eight words: Shoes are great and I’m obsessed with them!

I really am. An hour earlier, I said aloud that I wanted to buy a new pair and my mom butted in to tell me I should probably slow down as I’ve got piles of shoe boxes back in the province and about half a dozen here. I wasn’t even aware I had that much. I’m not even sure I wore every single one more than once. I always thought I only had a few so I always feel the need to buy new ones.

Shoes are now seductive in my eyes, from Oxfords to pumps to wedges to boots to doll shoes to just about every kind. The higher the heels, the sexier. I’ve got a bunch of shoes with 4-inch heels and those were my favorites. And yes, wearing heels can be painful especially if you spend the whole day walking, so I avoid wearing tall ones during escapades. Boots are awesome too, but with the heat in Manila it’s not advisable especially if you’re a member of the excessive sweating brotherhood. But Oxford will always be the best. I’m not even gonna explain why. They’re just awesome.

I’ll probably end this post right now as I might just not stop talking. See, this obsession has completely taken over my practicality. I guess the Imelda Marcos complex is inherent in all girls. Quite deadly to the wallet if dug up.

(Shout out to both my sisters and my mom who tolerates my obsession and buys me shoes! lol. I love you!)

Yay!

It’s been a week since I passed the CPA Licensure Exam.

haha.

HAHAHAHA.

I’m so happy I don’t even know what to write. ))))

 

hey you ;)

How long has it been? Weeks? Months? Years? Decades? Oh okay, months it is.

It’s funny because I was in the shower when I suddenly thought of you. Man, the shower has always played the major medium between life revelations/realizations and our most-of-the-time-preoccupied minds. I thought about my page and a sudden outburst of potential blog posts just started weaving by themselves. I swear if thoughts were visible, they would have been flying above my head, crowding the whole bathroom ceiling like clouds ready to burst with rain (yeah dark clouds, what do you expect?). But then I remembered my oath to only speak of colorful words of literary pieces – so I ran away towards greener pasture with flowers blooming, sun shining, rainbows painted in the sky, the sounds of birds and unicorns abundant: anything that was just smile-inducing. And I thought of myself. hahaha. Vain much, but of course I’m kidding.

Anyway,I miss you. I will be gone for awhile, nothing you’re not accustomed too. But if fate is good or to be more realistic if I’m smart enough and I happen to pass the licensure exam this October, expect me to burst through your door with happiness. I ain’t even gonna knock.

a change of attitude

now that I have reached another milestone in my life (yes, I am a bit redundant), I’ve decided to emit a positive aura in my blog, if not for a change, then at least for a considerable amount of time.

so to start off, I might have to take it step by step and talk about the little things that light up my world.

1. being able to sleep and wake up any time I want (well, this is temporary) and my parents being cool about it.

2. mouth-watering viands that only my mom could cook and the ever-present supplies of junk or instant food that supports that monster inside my tummy during midnight or early dawn.

3. being able to sleep before 2 in the morning rather than the usual 4 am sleeping time my insomniac living or screwed-up body clock is used to.

4. that american burger and fries from Burgers and Beers in my city.

5. internet connection to stream all my favorite tv series episodes.

6. our pet dog Jagger and out pet cat River, who are the complete opposites of each other’s personality but whom I deeply love to bits, despite all the weight crashing on my 90-pound body when the former is making lambing and the scratches and bites I get from the latter when he is being his usual spoiled self.

7. the dozen School of the Future (my elementary school) shirts in the cabinet, which I wear everyday when I’m at home (and I usually am about 95% of the time). I don’t have to worry about deciding what to wear and it brings back old school memories and pride. And yes, it still fits.

8. my niece but she’s no little thing (metaphorically speaking)! I love her to bits I could talk about her on and on but I probably shouldn’t.

things to be thankful about on graduation day

two of the few material rewards i get after five years of excruciating academic life in the University of the Philippines.

the people who went through hell with me for the past five years; through retention policies, dozens of academic papers, hundreds of presentations and examinations and a bucket-full of mashed-up bad and good memories. Some of whom I might not give a crap about after review (LOL, true), but most of whom whose company I’ll always treasure.

the perfect dress I always wanted to wear and the perfect shoes that was definitely against the white/ecru-colored closed shoes rule (watch out, we got a badass over here haha) and cosmetics that occasionally touched my face which amazingly could make me look like a real human being.

but most importantly, for the family who I cannot even begin to describe how awesome a bunch they are (I forgot to have our picture taken since we were rushing to get back to the city. :/ ugh).

the dark side

He told me I should write something more positive. I rolled my eyes. Really, dude? Something positive from me?

I tried not to laugh, but the thought of writing a paragraph of pure adoration about something or someone, of puking rainbows because everything in life is so beautiful, of writing something without a hint of sarcasm is too good to pass on a laugh. All my works are not simply strawberry juices, they’re hard liquors; they’re not all sweets and stuff, they’re actually pretty much bitter and intoxicating yet more fun to consume.

They say writings are reflections of one’s own life and although this can be said mostly of writers, my case is different. No, my life isn’t a tragedy. It isn’t even close to one. I’m actually pretty blessed to have a healthy and close relationship with my siblings and my parents, have dozens of close friends and probably thousands of acquaintances. I am able to get what I basically need and oftentimes afford my luxurious wants. I am not miserable at all.

So why do I prefer to write about the nasty and depressing stuff about life? As defense, I would say the darker side of the force is actually more interesting for me. This has always been the case, a realization way earlier than when I decided to rather be Darth Vader’s stormtrooper than Yoda’s jedi.

This is not to say I don’t appreciate the nice things in life. I do, I actually do. You just don’t get to see it. It’s intimate. It’s mine alone because it might cause confusion of my online reputation.

message from the underdogs.

College life has officially ended. Although technically it won’t until I get that 10-second highlight as I receive my diploma and that won’t be happening til it’s the 25th of April; nonetheless, I can suffice to say that I can finally close that chapter in my life.

Five years of fun, homesickness, reckless decision-making, boredom, procrastination, unexpected achievements, well-deserved disappointments among so many things. Five years seemed to gone by fast now that I look at it from where I am right now. I can still recall how dragging it felt when I was so burdened with trying to live a fruitful tertiary life or trying to not give a fuck – the latter of which I do incredibly well, hence the expected consequences I had to go through to wok my ass off for redemption.

Yet, it’s funny when I think about it. There were more than 60 chosen ones who took up the course with me when we stepped as idealistic yet naive freshmen in UP Visayas’ BS in Accountancy program and 5 years later, only half survived through the grade retention policy; some of whom, myself included, were far off from a college-student material. I think they call us “barbarians” way back in the 90s. Non-partisan students who steer clear of any political issues; inactive members, if members at all of any organization; invisible players in the extracurricular activities field – just about anything opposite that has to do with overachievers, that’s what we barbarian do great. But yet, here we are, put to the pedestal, leveled with the very best of the batch; here we are as survivors.   Proving that no matter how much we suck at making the most out of our college life, we can damn well exceed everyone’s skewed views of us.

So whatever, I’m marching up the stage and no one can break my bubble. That goes the same for my fellow underdogs.

Ever heard the line,

“Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me”?

If you never did, then good for you. You were never subjected to such preposterous lie. Whoever came up with that saying obviously hasn’t been out in the world much. You see, physical pain can be bearable up to the point where your body becomes numb, then it shuts off and you succumb to darkness. But a psychological torture goes on and on that even in darkness, it grabs your unconsciousness back to reality and jabs you left and right until you fall back into the darkness and repeats the cycle. And what’s more appropriate for a medium of psychological torture than words?

Sticks and stones may break our bones, but word will leave a psychological wound that would never heal.

the anguish

A year barely passed since I cried my heart out over Jughead’s loss. Some may call it overrated, even my friends thought so. But still, I grieved over the loss of a dog who despite his most-of-the-time-stupid habits showcased his pure loyalty and love for his owners every second of the day. He was a model figure for what you call a man’s bestfriend and his loss was something our family could have lived without. I recalled the text messages from my siblings and my mom (I study in another part of the country – away from our hometown) when he was rushed to the vet, the updates that showed no hints of positivity, of knowing how grave the situation was when he had to be attached to a dextrose to keep him hydrated and the last hopes dissolving when his body started denying the flow. I was about to ride a jeep with my friend when my mom informed me Jughead past away, and I cried. It was a silent cry and I tried with all my best to hide the tears from the people around me. The grieving came a while later when I was alone in my room. It felt so bad because he has been with us for more than 3 years and has always been a joy ever since. I guess I was lucky because I never got to see him suffer the way my mom and siblings did. Even more so than my sister Jesse who took the flight back to the province from Manila only to arrive a few hours late. It still felt bad because I didn’t get to say goodbye, except to the grave to where he lies now. Yes, that’s how much of a family we treat our pets.

We still have Jagger and our cat River. Jesse, then took to custody a mini Pinscher and she named him Saxgun. I won’t lie but we do see hints of Jughead in Saxgun – a bit of an attention whore and a food-eating machine.

And we love him just as we do with our pets that seeing him (Saxgun) in a state like this hurts deeply. I don’t know what’s wrong with him but Jesse drove 2 hours to Bacolod to have the vet check him (ours back here isn’t really the best choice, and I say IS because there’s only one). They did all exams and the results were fine except for the fact that he has no control of his nerves and that his bones are weak because he’s been given a shot too many for something. Turns out he already had the necessary allergy shot and the vet in our place injected another without knowing Saxgun already had been vaccinated the same a few days ago. I really don’t know all those medical mumbo jumbo stuff. All I know is that he can’t walk right now, he’s shaking, and any efforts of standing up makes him fall down. His bone can’t support his body and with the medicine the vet just prescribed, the fastest he could be able to walk again is after a month. Now, tell me, how can you look at your dog in a state like that for 30 days without feeling so bad? Because a moment ago, I took him out of his cage and held him as he laid his shaking head on my arms and I just felt so hopeless.

Of course I’m mad.

See, this is one reason why I envy the friendship shared by men. No dramas. Definitely no bitchiness.

Yeah, sure, it’s my fault that I had too much pride in me to say sorry and just make up with you, but bitch please. You could have done the same, but you didn’t. We both had mistakes, we both deserve apologies and make amends. I was willing to give mine before the year ended, despite the fact that you show no intention of doing the same. You, of all people, should know I’m not one who usually runs after people, and that when I do, I couldn’t do it in a snap.

But no, you had to block me right? Because that’s the best way to solve this issue, right? Because there’s no use waiting for this friendship to heal, right?

Well, fuck you. You just lost me.