The Departure

He hugged me and he closed his eyes. His muscular arms and cold hands tried to cover my entire head. His lips leaned towards my head and my head rested on his chest. I closed my eyes and I listened to his heartbeat. Every beat made me feel safe and scared at the same time. My tiny arms were around his waist. My small hands clinched together. Then I heard the sound of a rushing plane passing through above us. It was heading somewhere towards the air and it left a heavy sound echoing a request that I should let him go.

"I will be back.", he whispered closely as he calmly convinced his tears not to pour out from his eyes. I clenched my hands tighter. I don't want him to ride any of those planes. I want him to stay where he is -- in my arms.

Like him, I didn't want to cry but immediately and outrageously, I did. The more I resisted what's within me, the more it poured. Every tear begged him to stay but every second forced me to let go. It was me against flying planes and ticking seconds, and they've already won.

His muscular arms seemed weak as he picked up his luggage quietly. I wanted to help him carry it but I can't stop watching him look away and leave. Some seconds after, he was already walking away with his luggage. I was only standing still, watching it all happen. I wanted to outcry so many things but I didn't know how to say everything in two seconds. And just when I thought the last second will end, I shakily shouted the words, "I will be waiting!".

Though his body was already facing the gate that regularly welcomes another long distance relationship, he stared back with his teary eyes and smiling said to me, "Be strong. I love you." Surprised, I replied "I love you too."

It was bitter but I swallowed the pain of seeing him take the first few steps of the 6,000 miles away from me.

Eight Things I Love About My Job

I won’t deny it. I planned to quit my job twice during my entire three months in this organization. I once hated it so much that I didn’t want to go to work anymore. Actually, it was just some days ago when I started to write a draft of my resignation letter. The introductory part was pretty easy. I was just complaining my heart out. After releasing all the annoyances, I started to have a hard time continuing my sentences. It was just hard to say goodbye to something you once fell in love with. 

I minimized the said draft. Automatically, I saw the folder where I saved it: “Thoughts At Work”. In that the same folder, I saw a file entitled “Eight Things I Love About My Job”. I remember writing it after my first week of employment. Then, I opened it.

The file slapped me. I had to gulp everything in again.

February 11, 2012, Friday

The Eight Things I Love About My Job

Seven days at work and I’ve never been this excited about going to work again on Monday! The pressure is on but I’m feeling it whole-heartedly knowing that it will not only benefit my pocket every 15^th but also boost my being as a person for a lifetime.

Here’s a list of why I love my job!

1. My office is near my residence.  I have night classes. I can’t be late, and I won’t ever be! My office is 10 to 15 minutes away from my school and condo unit. Plus! I only spend 40 pesos a day for transportation! Though it involves 5 minutes of walk under the sun, at least I can consider “exercising” as a weekday routine!
2. I’m on flexi-time schedule. The best thing about my work is that I can come in any time before 1PM! Therefore, there is the slightest or laziest possibility that I will be late! For as long as I spend 8 hours of work, then I’m good to go. For a girl who wakes up after 9AM, this is pretty awesome! No rush hours! No running! No one controls my time and I always feel relaxed when I go to work. I can even eat lunch and merienda whenever I feel like doing so!
3. I don’t need to wear heels and blazers every single day. Forget the entire corporate attire package; I will only need that about 5 to 7 times every month. I can wear jeans every day! I don’t need to wear heels; I can always wear sandals and flats! I don’t need anything collared; I can always wear a plain shirt if I want to!
4. I will have my own beautiful office soon! They're renovating an entire office for me. Every lunch break, I keep on passing by the area where I will sit and work soon. I think it's going to be really pretty; white paint, beige tiles, white seats, varnished desks, conference table, picture frames. I'm so excited! I will have my own office soon! Some quiet time to think like nobody's waiting and sing like nobody's watching!
5. It's tennis-related. I'm working to sell the sport I've been playing since I was 4 years old. It's like returning the favor to the field that carried me to where I am right now. Sounds fulfilling? Definitely. I'm going to contribute for the community of tennis in the Philippines. I'm going to sell a sport of a lifetime nationally and internationally. I'm still hoping for a Filipino-Federer in the future. Maybe not soon, but this job may contribute to some more possibilities in the future.
6. Salary, commission, and benefits. This job is enough for me to live on my own now; rent my own condo unit, pay electric and water bills, pay the laundry, buy three meals everyday, and bring me to where I need to go. Sometimes, I can be able to save some extra money to buy what I want. They're planning to provide me a phone line to contact very special people and companies soon. They already provided me a computer with a really fast internet line and a gigantic printer. They even provided me free lunch everyday! Who would have thought? It's only been 4 months since I graduated! 
7. It builds connections to the corporate world! Like what I've said earlier: "very special people". I'm talking about presidents, general managers, head officers, owners, and probably even CEO's. I'll be meeting up with people who can be able to inspire me to become like them someday!
8. Yay for such a cool position title. Every time I answer "Marketing Head and Event Manager" when asked about my job position, it makes me shy and proud at the same time. Shy because who am I to manage a national event and be a head of its marketing strategies etc., and proud because I'm actually and unbelievably that girl! I took up Psychology and currently taking up a masters degree in Industrial/ Organizational Psychology. It's not exactly the job where I am supposed to be but it's still related though and I think it unlocks additional skills, knowledge, and abilities aside from what I am getting in my classes. Awesome!

Thank you Lord for this opportunity! I hope to have a good year here at PCA. And maybe, some more good years!

There you go. A huge wake-up call. I loved my job so much. I had all the great reasons why I chose to be here. What ever happened to me? I need to put my self back in the game and turn all the stress, risks, and pressure as challenges, lessons, and opportunities, and not the other way around. I now realize that maybe it’s not the job; maybe it’s actually me. It’s not the job that disappointed me; it’s me who expected it to be perfect even though outside the box, it’s already pretty great.

Maybe instead of hating it, I should embrace the reasons why I wanted to be here in the first place. Sure, there are bigger offers ahead and there are reasons why I need to quit it but I have all the right reasons to be here at the same time. Probably, it's not that I am not happy anymore. Maybe it's just because I forgot to love and appreciate what I am doing.

Burnt-out days went by and I am still here, enjoying a blog after 8 hours of work.

Letting It All Out

Two months ago, I started to create a self-help program for myself. This self-made program was focused on controlling myself from ranting, criticizing, and complaining. The reason behind it was because of the idea that I should not let other people see my weaknesses, that I should not allow others to be involved with my personal dramas, and that I should share only what's positive in order to inspire other people. And so I did. Though there were times when I wanted to shout curses on Twitter, I was able to commit to stay positive everyday. I was more appreciative of the things around me. All the while, I felt that the self-help program really worked but after some time, deep inside my heart, I felt that the program was actually self-destructing. It felt good but it felt wrong at the same time. The goal was to control but I ended up pretending and denying things about myself just because I don't want people to know the issues I have in my life. I was too scared that I'd open more doors for people to criticize me and that I'd open more windows for them to step on me. I was too scared to be myself. I was not trying to lessen complaints and annoyances about life, I was trying to lessen what people might actually say. I was not trying to go for happiness, I was trying to forget the existence of hurt and loneliness.

After a series of life-changing and curse-worth of challenges, thank God my mindset is about to change. I am not here to please you. I am not here to be liked. I am tired of figuring out what your response will be if I act in this certain way. I am tired of trying to lessen the negative things that others may say behind my back. I am tired of being okay all the time because I know I am not. I am tired of not being myself because of people who can't stand me for being real.

I can't stop you guys from judging and criticizing me. It's like trying to stop the world too. Whatever I do, good or bad, you guys will always have something to say.

Unfortunately, It takes only a real person, a real friend, to accept me for who I am, to not judge my flaws and mistakes, and to tell me whole-heartedly how beautiful and how annoying I am as a person. I am lucky enough to have four people right now who are real enough to be there for me and to understand me no matter what. Four people who I can spend an entire day with while I am being my true self. No pretentions, no denials, just me.

I want you to know that I am not anywhere near perfect. I am not always nice, logical and disciplined. I am most of the time a lazy and emotional overeating dumbass, and I am fine with that. Sure, you won't like me because I am not trying to look like Leighton Meester every freaking time but your dislike doesn't make me any less of a person.

I have to enjoy being me and to start loving myself again. I don't need to fit in to your expectations and standards. I have my own.

I HAVE MY OWN.

Trudy The Foursquare User

Nowadays, when some friends see me, they’d always comment something about my use of Foursquare and how I tend to Tweet and Facebook it more than the usual. Some find it cool, some don’t care, some are concerned about my safety, and some find it annoying.

Here are some points I’d like to tell to those who just can’t stand it: UNFOLLOW ME. Simple. If you think it’s stupid and unneccessary, UNFOLLOW ME. Simple. Instead of wasting your energy towards complaining, tweeting, and ranting about an application I am using properly, UNFOLLOW ME. Simple.

But definitely, I’d rather tweet and Facebook where I am than complain about my life every single day. And it’s almost the same thing anyway, you tweet and Facebook about where you are too, you tell us what you do in that place, so why not let me Foursquare?

I share with my friends the places I like to go. I want to see some of the restaurants and vacation places they go to. I find new friends on the site. I gain points for discounts and perks. I gain excitement. I gain gratitude towards the realization that God is giving me the ability to travel and eat anywhere in the world. Did I hurt you? Did I contribute to any global conflict? Did I kill anyone? No.

To those who are concerned about my safety: My dear friends, I understand and acknowledge your concern but I am not that stupid to allow someone to rob me, kill me or rape me. Just to let you know, I check-in earlier or later than the exact time I am in that place. Sometimes, I don’t check-in at all. And sometimes, I check-in all at once. So I will have to salute you if you can ACTUALLY and REALLY calculate the distance, the time, my decision of when to check-in, the time I will spend staying on that place, and the moment when to kill me.

To my friends who appreciate the benefits of having a Foursquare and to those who just let me do what I want to do, I appreciate it very much. Thank you.

You use Twitter to tweet, Facebook to stalk and everything else, YouTube to watch videos, Formspring to cyberbully people (well, for some), Tumblr to blog, and Foursquare to let people know where you are and see where other people are at and are up to. Every social networking site or app is made to create an impact to each and everyone. And I honestly think that whether you like it or not, you are going to be a part of it.

Let’s just appreciate the gift of technology; it is also a gift from God anyway. Lessen the hate you are giving towards a freaking social networking site or application and start criticizing yourself to improve. Minimize complaining about your friends’ updates and start doing what you’re supposed to do with your life.

After all, there is so much more in the world than Foursquare.

The One Who Will Stick

From Point A which is your birth to Point B which is your death, friends come, friends go;enemies come, enemies go; money comes, money goes.

The only thing constant between Point A and B is you. You’re the only one who’s going to be there the entire time. If you change yourself just to please the people who’ve been sliced in the middle of Point A and B and then they leave, you’ll be stuck to whoever you really wanted to be. There’s no point in changing who you are just to please the temporary others.

In an ever beautiful world, there’s always going to be people who’ll stick with you through thick and thin. But this is not an ever beautiful world; this is the real world. So fall in love with who you are because you are the only one who is and will be stuck in yourself through thick and thin, and until the very end.

Desires

I’ve been going through a not-so-good time in my life recently, and since my usual preference is to hug myself and cry away, I am trying instead to concentrate on desires. That word unfortunately is considered as something cliché or underrated, and so I am warning you right here, right now, that that is not how I think it is.

I am talking about little instances and beautiful heart-warming occurrences that remind me of how every second of my problematic and temporary life is worth living whether I choose to appreciate so or not.

There are about a thousand reasons why every day is wonderful, but here are a few things I find personally desirable:

1. Taking a cold shower after a day’s work, and letting it kick off the smell of perspiration and pressure.
2. Finding an extra-large shirt and tiny cotton shorts to sleep on with at night.
3. Songs written about how love and dreams can change your life.
4. A little line you find on Twitter that says the thing you have always felt but never thought to describe.
5. That first stretch in the morning.
6. Encouraging text message from someone you love and loves you.
7. Eating good food with people who genuinely appreciate eating good food.
8. Standing in front of a kind of landscape that makes you stop and think “Wow. I am giving myself a right to be miserable with this kind of beauty existing.”
9. I know it’s cheesy and corny and that it sounds like a greeting card, but I am choosing to see the world as good and I am so grateful to live here. 

I know it’s cheesy and corny and that it sounds like a greeting card, but I am choosing to see the world as good and I am so grateful to live here. 

Knives

I know I can not delete the affection you had for her
or remove the misery of loving her just before this summer.
I know I can not guarantee the feelings you are currently having
or assure myself that it is the truth you are withstanding.

But in spite the things I know, I'll keep holding on.
In spite the doubts, I'll risk it all.
They say "It's stupid", I say "I'm just happy"
They say "It's not worth it", I say "I'll just let it be"

About the end, I worry
but why face the future if today there is still me?
Who would want to get hurt sooner or later?
but I dont want to just let it go, give it up and take that forever.

If the time comes you choose her over me,
the time will also come that I will be free.
But if the time comes you choose me over her,
the time will also come I'll prove you that things will be better.

Mask Off

Lately, I’ve been worrying a lot about my future. I’ve also been worrying a lot about the facts of my present. I’m in doubt. Are all these present-day efforts and experiences enough for me to make it through the future I want to become?

I have faith in God but, obnoxiously speaking, I call for strength in order for me to have faith in myself. I just need a pocket-sized conviction; a voluminous assurance that I can do it.

How do you see me? Yes, you.
Do you see me as a woman of passion or a sappy girl with this lame blogger account?

My every word and my every action are the transparent reasons I could supply to people for them to calculate and compute me.

But knowing the answer is just my option. What really matters to me now is the criteria I want for myself. Am I almost there? Am I at the base of the pyramid? If yes, am I looking towards the apex of everything I wanted or just staring straight on this granular material everyone is stepping to? If no, where must I be?

And so I need my option.

I want to be a pre-school teacher or a college professor. I want to be an author, a writer, or a critique. I want to spend my time working for me to be able to provide my mom and my younger sister’s future with a two-bedroom condominium, a car and enough money to spend for what we really need.

But right now, I’m just an average 3rd year Psychology-major student-athlete amateurishly blogging, working hard, hoping and dreaming that one day, all these self-pity prisoned in a place called myself will zoom away.

What if.
But.


Fear.

Fly!

Fly
to me
for a shorter distance

Fly
above me
for a bigger dream

Fly
between life
for great sufferings

Fly
towards Him
for better flying

Sheet of Rain

It was sauna-like.

But suddenly, dark clouds appeared and it actually drizzled.

Initially I was like "damn it"

but then i just continued walking with my umbrella
and then I started to like whatever was going on.

Furthermore, I started to think things through.
You know, the personal issues that needed extra attention.

It was pretty emotional
but it was nice.

So life?
I don't know.

It's hard but I have a lot of reasons to smile. :)

Magic!

When I was around 9 years old, my mom told me something about the Bible.

“Do you know that this book has magic?” She said to me as she picked the book from her lap.

I didn’t say a word but, based on my facial expression, I knew she felt the question “How?”

She answered and demonstrated: “Before you open this book and read something on it, you have to talk to God first. The things you’re going to say to Him will probably include how thankful you are for things, how sorry you are for mistakes, and/or how you like your aspirations to happen. Then you just open the book without planning out the page or the chapter you’re gonna read on.

You just open it. You just read whatever is there. And then what you read is God’s reply to you. That is the magic.”

“I tell you the truth, if anyone says to this mountain, ‘Go, throw yourself into the sea,’ and does not doubt in his heart but believes that what he says will happen, it will be done for him. Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask for in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.”
- Mark 11:22-24 NIV

Yes, you.

Not because I'm not texting you
doesn't mean I don't remember.

Not because I don't talk to you
doesn't mean I don't miss you.

Not because I can't see you
doesn't mean I like it that way.

And not because I can't have a way
doesn't mean I didn't try to find one.

I am writing this because you've
been part of one of my thoughts.

I miss you.
Yes, you.

Boo, She Lame-o.

On the week of July 8th, Trudy slaps the nail of a scoreboard because of frustration. The accidental semi-scandalous spank resulted to a bloody emergency room entrance, three right hand stitches, two anti-tetanus injections, and two unplayable weeks. She then realized that oncourt brutality that leads to hurting thy self is plain stupidity and thus, it leads to a mummy-like hand.

On the first week of August, Trudy slides on a slippery floor, falls her weight onto it, and twists her right ankle due to a simple sidestep training routine. The accidental kind-of-funny fall resulted to an icepack partnership, physical therapy sessions, penguin walk, plastered foot, and more unplayable weeks. She then realized that clumsiness over an obviously wet bball court is outrageously dumb and thus, it leads to a name out of a line-up tournament she has been preparing for so long.

Fresh from the recent accident, she is now having unreasonable thoughts with a small span of focus on things especially when she is in front of facebook, her lame reminder notebook and Blink-182. Her wonders are inside this hot air balloon which will blast in no time.

"Is this destiny?". She asked.

"Destined Karma". The quick conclusion for she wants a not so painful, immediate answer with or without proof, only superstition and strong hunch.

My Inside Story

You can never finish a story without even reading it. That is probably the lesson so far for today. I am not even joking. I talked to big-time suspects, hung out with a man scheduled to die for 7 times but still living his life with God, played tennis with criminals, laughed with killers, enjoyed the day with men wearing “P” orange shirts, and most of all, was overwhelmed with the day I spent with real people, real characters in an unread story I once immediately concluded.

Almost all my teammates noticed an unusual me as I entered the high walls and security-glazed gates this morning. I was nervous. I felt like someone’s going to grab me, pull my hair or hit me because for the first time, I felt disgusted by such stares. Then I saw this man trying to wipe off the glimpse of tears from his eyes and I asked myself why. Half way, I already regretted the idea of being there but seeing the man pulled my judgments away.

Still with an empty facial expression, I faced the morning. The crowd was not the usual crowd you’ll hear applauding for your winners or good shots. And the people you are feeding the ball to are not the usual students in the camp having fun because they’re exhausted. The court was not a grandstand of flexisurface or shell court, it was made of cement. But regardless of whether or not it is playable, it was fun. If you’ll look at each and everyone’s faces along the crimes they have committed, if you’ll listen to the small talks they are into along with the miserable past they once walked by, you won’t see damages of the hopeless, you’ll see a new and better life.

Eating lunch with “inmates” was supposed to be the most awkward feeling but it wasn’t. They looked at us as little kids wanting more food from the table. They offered us coke and smiles. They welcomed us inside their mini homes. Most importantly, they considered us a part of their family which is never a bad idea for it was a family of care and acceptance. They might be evil in the eyes of the society but the good in their hearts were visible in my sight that afternoon.

They toured us around the whole “village”. Bodyguards a.k.a. Peacemakers were guiding me and my 7 other female teammates along the walk. People are still staring but this time, I didn’t doubt to say hi or to smile back. Some are producing arts and crafts while some are playing basketball. Some are waving back while singing for the Church while some are praying. Some are joking around while some are just blankly staring. Deep inside I knew that they are somehow just like me, somehow just like any other people because they want change.

People with gigantic carpet-like tattoos doesn’t make a big difference to people with the small or invisible ones. Why? Because first of all, it is still stuck there forever and second, because in the eyes of God, it is the value of life that we share which is the most important. I saw an isolated community full of hopeful people smiling and enjoying the controlled life they were given to and coerced goals expected from them and from their pasts. All they ever wanted is to breath the air outside the challenging space and they felt like seeing us is almost feeling that air. Being considered the air of freedom and hope is just heart-warming. That was the climax of the sound-filled scene. The unexpected part wherein the reader would realize how lucky she is for being part of the story, how happy she should be because she’s moving freely and how stupid she is for not using the latter in the best way possible.

As we stepped out of the white castle-like building from the outside, we knew they’ll be missing the feel of air again. We knew that somewhere along the entrance of that building is a place of moral lessons and an experience only few of us could share. It was a place of hope and not sadness. It was a place of lessons and not regrets. I guess we’ll be coming back. I mean we want to. I know there’s going to be a next time and you know what, I will never be tired of sharing this story.

“You are out there. Go to Church, celebrate and never let anyone or anything pull you behind the grills”. Such unforgettable words from a pastor who used to be a drug lord.

Miss And Take

Mistakes, Mistakes, Mistakes; things we find wrong, embarrassing and/or just plain stupid. And whether or not it froze or replayed in our memory, we have to deal with the fact that it has been part of our history.

I finally reached the finish line of a disastrously unlucky, mentally tiring and somewhat happy third sophomore week and I’ve been searching for an inspiration to at least start a freaking blog post. Now, it is finally taking place and the inspiration is the lecture from my history class which I consider the incident that started the adjective proclaimed week I was telling.

Most of you who don’t know, history is such a pain in my ass. I can’t keep up with the dates, the sequence of the Cold War or the truth about the Spanish hegemony. This subject should be inside my I-have-no-choice-but-to-do-this bucket along with Mathematics and Political Science. But last Monday, there was a statement from my professor that I can’t get over with until now. It was a slap in my face and I’m pretty sure that it was not only me who got Rihannaed in the class of 25. This can possibly make me remove my perception about history out of the bucket. But we’ll see more about that later.

“To commit a mistake is human but to repeat the mistake is stupidity.”

If you’re against this quotation, please press alt + F4, hit your head with whatever is in front of you because darling, you are probably an outer space /earth-disturbing freak looking funny on a horse. This is an accurate experience-proven cavalry charge.

Most of us would say that “The past is the past” because we are trying to move on or just forget the wrong things in the right way. But sometimes this famous quote doesn’t always have to be the answer to our emotional belief about moving on because the “past” that some of us are trying to forget or escape is somehow worth remembering simply because it is someone’s life guideline for better decision-making. Maybe I am trying to dig the treasure in the end of this motionless rainbow or maybe I am trying to transform a yellow lego to SpongeBob SquarePants but either way, I am just trying to preach one thing: mistakes aren’t always a bad thing (depending on the situation and on the person, of course).

It is good to hear that the majority wouldn’t make or will try not to make the same mistake or regret but, sadly, there are still people who would press rewind and play. And I am allegedly accusing myself to be somehow part of the latter.

Useless and stupid mistakes, as explained, happens to:
1. those who listed the “not to do’s” for their new year’s resolution but failed,
2. those who got their heart broken for so many times, cried so many times, and cried for so many times again, and /or
3. those who said “sorry” but ended up saying sorry over and over again until he or she is not worth it to be forgiven anymore.

I am a rational animal and I am, most of the time, too stupid to face promises such as “I won’t do this anymore”. And I am not hoping for a mistake-free individual to exist because that’s like hoping for the sun to rise from the south. But someone can always try to live a life full of different mistakes and not the same ones.

Destiny, in a long run, is a different story.

Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da, Life Goes On..

I don’t remember exactly when but I already once thought of meeting myself. I don’t know if it really makes sense but I think it is kind of cool to actually handshake another you and then you’ll see what you really are just like how other people see you. This idea is in sane but I think it is a product of wanting to know my flaws and my forte from another view. I think that this can be like a good substitute to the famous genie wish of ‘time travel to the past’ because instead of replaying and fixing what you have done wrong, you’ll just understand what kind of person you really are and initiate which of your recklessness would you possibly do again. So having a conversation with yourself or hanging out with yourself (additional exaggeration) is quite a cool solution to think of if you are really up to the social life you would want to have. But guess what, I think the love I used to have with the so-called ‘impeccable social life’ with the definition of all the people liking me is now over.

I’ve realized that happiness isn’t judged by the number of audience you get for attention, the number of friends you hangout with during lunch breaks, the amount of comments and feedbacks you have on your facebook wall, the number of people who SMS you everyday, or the number of visitors you have on your myspace page. Being perfectly happy, if actually existed, is based on the times you’ve done something nice for your friend, for your loved one, or for yourself and not wanting anything in return. Now, I think that if my conscience is clean, if I am just being myself, if I can face life as my bitch and, most of all, if I can make other people’s life worth while or at least make other people smile then I guess I found out what happiness really is.

If you love the idea of all the people liking you because you are one hell of a teenage superstar in your world then I guess you need to get rid of your dark Chanel sunglasses because it is making you go blind.

Right now, I am happy with my outrageously crazy and challenging life. Furtado said that all good things happen to an end, I say please let me enjoy this moment.

Get Them Haters Out Your Circle

It is impossible not to react with lines such as “You’re a fag”, “You’re a big fat slut” or “Get a life”. The feedback we often offer to these is some sort of like “OMG hater, like errr”. But if there is no hate then love wouldn’t have his rival and that’s somehow boring. Last night, I felt like crying in the shower feeling the depression brought by a famous hater of mine and then a solution kind of hit me with a blagapak.

If there are no haters then there will be no criticisms. If there are no criticisms, there will be no personal improvement. If there is no personal improvement, your days would be like the heartbeat of a lifeless.

You can’t please everyone. Sometimes, you can’t even please someone. But if you’ll look at the bright side of hate, you’ll realize that what if all the haters relocate to Mars or somewhere then absolutely, life would be too cheesy. And if you are trying to live in a world expecting a confetti shower to every life event you are walking to then, I guess, you should find another world of your own.

Come on, who doesn’t hate? If everyone loves something or someone then it is a matter of fairness that everyone hates something or someone too. So don’t sit in the corner of your room crying like Taylor. Get up and think of this: If you are giving up a part of your life because of one, two or hundreds and thousands of haters then how would you give a time appreciating your lovers. If you can’t accept hate, then you don’t know what love is. And if you do not know what love is, then you have no right to hate.

So to you my dearest hater, for some reason you made me smile. Thanks for hating me because without you, I wouldn’t know how beautiful the type of person I am compared to you.

If I Had A Penis

If I had a penis, it would be bigger than his. I will not just tell the world the size it has but I’m going to be a real man to prove it. I am not going to flirt with another girl when I already have the one I should be loyal with. I will not hook up. I will not take advantage of a girl who likes/loves me. I will love a girl for who she is and not for what she has. I will look through her eyes and not her boobs. If I had a penis, I will respect her because any girl deserves it. I will not bring a girl to my house for a one night stand. If I had a penis, I will prove you that my purpose is more than just searching for lust.

But I do not have a penis, and I will never ever have one. It’s pretty easy to imagine but I only have my vagina to live sacred with until the moment I find the one; the one who would say “I love you” because he means it and not because he's trained to say so.

My First Kiss Featuring Shia Labeouf

January afternoon two years ago, Shia Labeouf sat on the furnished dining chair across my mom's seat. It was 'Mom Unstoppable' sharing my degraded autobiography across the set of our usual lunch never knowing that I just wanted to hide my face behind the red satin table cloth. I still can hear the laughter striking back and forth within the walls of that room.

"The garden looks cool". His Chuck Bass voice invited me to enjoy the spring-like weather outside with him and only him.

We sat on a faded green bench and mumbled about how beautiful our lives will be in the future. We felt that all the mumbling were a bit tiring so we paused for a commercial break; the etymology of my life's young love. We played the usual game of 'impersonation'. I lifted my arms and he lifted his too. I squeezed my voice while trying to be funny and he did too. On his turn to be the leader, the butterflies in my stomach continued to do more hyper flying. He leaned towards me so I leaned towards him too. He held my right hand and I froze like Jack at the end of the Titanic movie. He kissed me and I had no idea what to do with myself. The flowers witnessed the warmth of his lips and the clouds photographed the romantic scene. I don't want to end the moment but I had to release my lips with a smile because of the total awkwardness included.

"You had my first kiss". I told him with an indescribable facial grin.
"It's my trophy for winning the game". He jokingly said with his eyes staring at the nervousness I was feeling.

"I love you". He said.
"I love you too". I replied as I held his left hand tighter.
"Was it good?". He asked teasingly. My mental capability collapsed and it resulted to an "Uhhhh..yeah". The intelligence of my tongue did not cope up with the situation. So it just said "How about mine?".

Shia stared at me, laughed and said "It has the talent but it needs improvement".

So there you have it folks! The cheesy story of my first kiss. The story where I felt the pangs of puppy love. It's your turn now. What is your 'first kiss story'? :)

Ethan Melted My Icecream Season Finale

“Silver, I like you.”

The teeth bit the spoon’s round and blunted head so strong that it wouldn’t touch the mouth-watering brownie flavored ice cream anymore. Putting the cover of the 800ml calorie-supporter back, I decided to let its content melt beside my seat. My eyes played the do-not-blink game for approximately 10 seconds not because the kiss was torrid but because it was the lips of Erin Silver having its full friction on the lips of the official manwhore of Season 1, Ethan Ward.

Yes, you heard that one right. Ethan kissed her. Ethan kissed Dixon’s girl. Ethan kissed his best friend’s girl. In short, “Ethan, what is up with you?”

People should not be extremely carried away with the intangible situations or characters seen on a buffering T.V show box. But what can I do? I can’t help it. Why is this white guy, who used to have a nipa hair, tend to get a touch of every girl he would want to touch? Girls, girls, girls. Boys, boys, boys. This is a global affair disease, probably the swine flu of relationships.

It happens in real life, you know. Based from a true to life story, a female Ethan came by once actually. She did everything to steal the boy she knew I really liked. I, for once, respected her as a good friend but the good ol’ days are over. I guess, I’ve been a Dixon for once, huh? And you know what? I eventually faced the fact. I can’t do anything about it. I chose to love and they chose whatever they have chosen. I admit that the incident was heartbreaking but then again, it was not worth the disappointment. So if you see yourself in the situation Dixon is into then just get over it. It is probably painful right now but soon enough you’ll realize that it shouldn’t even be your problem. When all is said and done, it is you whom they lost.

90210 forced me to overreact. Anyway, I am looking forward to Season 2.