It’s Important!
List the 3 most important things in your life, and why they are important to you.
Things? People instead…
1. My family – They’re the most important. I really can’t tell you why…
2. My friends – They’re like my family.
3. Myself – This one is quite difficult to explain.
So I’m not really good at explaning, but these three are the most important.
Tenth
Thursday!
This is my tribute to the nice girls. To the nice girls who are overlooked, who become friends and nothing more, who spend hours fixating upon their looks and their personalities and their actions because it must be they that are doing something wrong. This is for the girls who don’t give it up on the first date, who don’t want to play mind games, who provide a comforting hug and a supportive audience for a story they’ve heard a thousand times. This is for the girls who understand that they aren’t perfect and that the guys they’re interested in aren’t either, for the girls who flirt and laugh and worry and obsess over the slightest glance, whisper, touch, because somehow they are able to keep alive that hope that maybe… maybe this time he’ll have understood. This is an homage to the girls who laugh loud and often, who are comfortable in skirts and sweats and combat boots, who care more than they should for guys who don’t deserve their attention. This is for those girls who have been in the trenches, who have watched other girls time and time again fake up and make up and fuck up the guys in their lives without saying a word. This is for the girls who have been there from the beginning and have heard the trite words of advice, from “there are plenty of fish in the sea,” to “time heals all wounds.” This is to honor those girls who know that guys are just as scared as they are, who know that they deserve better, who are seeking to find it.
This is for the girls who have never been in love, but know that it’s an experience that they don’t want to miss out on. For the girls who have sought a night with friends and been greeted by a night of catcalling, rude comments and explicit invitations that they’d rather not have experienced. This is for the girls who have spent their weekends sitting on the sidelines of a beer pong tournament or a case race, or playing Florence Nightingale for a vomiting guy friend or a comatose crush, who have received a drunk phone call just before dawn from someone who doesn’t care enough to invite them over but is still willing to pass out in their bed. This is for the girls who have left sad song lyrics in their away messages, who have tried to make someone understand through a subliminally appealing profile, who have time and time again dropped their male friend hint after hint after hint only to watch him chase after the first blonde girl in a skirt. This is for the girls who have been told that they’re too good or too smart or too pretty, who have been given compliments as a way of breaking off a relationship, who have ever been told they are only wanted as a friend.
This one’s for the girls who you can take home to mom, but won’t because it’s easier to sleep with a whore than foster a relationship; this is for the girls who have been led on by words and kisses and touches, all of which were either only true for the moment, or never real to begin with. This is for the girls who have allowed a guy into their head and heart and bed, only to discover that he’s just not ready, he’s just not over her, he’s just not looking to be tied down; this is for the girls who believe the excuses because it’s easier to believe that it’s not that they don’t want you, it’s that they don’t want anyone. This is for the girls who have had their hearts broken and their hopes dashed by someone too cavalier to have cared in the first place; this is for the nights spent dissecting every word and syllable and inflection in his speech, for the nights when you’ve returned home alone, for the nights when you’ve seen from across the room him leaning a little too close, or standing a little too near, or talking a little too softly for the girl he’s with to be a random hookup. This is for the girls who have endured party after party in his presence, finally having realized that it wasn’t that he didn’t want a relationship: it was that he didn’t want you. I honor you for the night his dog died or his grandmother died or his little brother crashed his car and you held him, thinking that if you only comforted him just right, or said the right words, or rubbed his back in the right way then perhaps he’d realize what it was that he already had. This is for the night you realized that it would never happen, and the sunrise you saw the next morning after failing to sleep.
This is for the “I really like you, so let’s still be friends” comment after you read more into a situation than he ever intended; this is for never realizing that when you choose friends, you seldom choose those which make you cry yourself to sleep. This is for the hugs you’ve received from your female friends, for the nights they’ve reassured you that you are beautiful and intelligent and amazing and loyal and truly worthy of a great guy; this is for the despair you all felt as you sat in the aftermath of your tears, knowing that that night the only companionship you’d have was with a pillow and your teddy bear. This is for the girls who have been used and abused, who have endured what he was giving because at least he was giving something; this is for the stupidity of the nights we’ve believed that something was better than nothing, though his something was nothing we’d have ever wanted. This is for the girls who have been satisified with too little and who have learned never to expect anything more: for the girls who don’t think that they deserve more, because they’ve been conditioned for so long to accept the scraps thrown to them by guys.
This is what I don’t understand. Men sit and question and whine that girls are only attracted to the mean guys, the guys who berate them and belittle them and don’t appreciate them and don’t want them; who use them for sex and think of little else than where their next conquest will be made. Men complain that they never meet nice girls, girls who are genuinely interested and compelling, who are intelligent and sweet and smart and beautiful; men despair that no good women want to share in their lives, that girls play mindgames, that girls love to keep them hanging. Yet, men, I ask you: were you to meet one of these genuinely interested, thrillingly compelling, interesting and intelligent and sweet and beautiful and smart girls, were you to give her your number and wait for her to call… and if you were to receive a call from her the next day and she, in her truthful, loyal, intelligent and straightforward nice girl fashion, were to tell you that she finds you intriguing and attractive and interesting and worth her time and perhaps material from which she could fashion a boyfriend, would you or would you not immediately call your friends to tell them of the “stalker chick” you’d met the night prior, who called you and wore her heart on her sleeve and told the truth? And would you, or would you not, refuse to make plans with her, speak with her, see her again, and once again return to the bar or club or party scene and search once more for this “nice girl” who you just cannot seem to find? Because therein lies the truth, guys: we nice girls are everywhere. But you’re not looking for a nice girl. You’re not looking for someone genuinely interested in your intermural basketball game, or your anatomy midterm grade, or that argument you keep having with your father; you’re looking for a quick fix, a night when you can pretend to have a connection with another human being which is just as disposable as the condom you were using during it.
So don’t say you’re on the lookout for nice girls, guys, when you pass us up on every step you take. Sometimes we go undercover; sometimes we go in disguise: sometimes when that girl in the low cut shirt or the too tight miniskirt won’t answer your catcalls, sometimes you’re looking at a nice girl in whore’s clothing – - we might say we like the attention, we might blush and giggle and turn back to our friends, but we’re all thinking the same thing: “This isn’t me. Tomorrow morning, I’ll be wearing a teeshirt and flannel shorts, I’ll have slept alone and I’ll be making my hungover best friend breakfast. See through the disguise. See me.” You never do. Why? Because you only see the exterior, you only see the slutty girl who welcomes those advances. You don’t want the nice girl.. so don’t say you’re looking for a relationship: relationships take time and energy and intent, three things we’re willing to extend – - but in return, we’re looking for compassion and loyalty and trust, three things you never seem willing to express. Maybe nice guys finish last, but in the race they’re running they’re chasing after the whores and the sluts and the easy-targets… the nice girls are waiting at the finish line with water and towels and a congratulatory hug (and yes, if she’s a nice girl and she likes you, the sweatiness probably won’t matter), hoping against hope that maybe you’ll realize that they’re the ones that you want at the end of that silly race.
So maybe it won’t last forever. Maybe some of those guys in that race will turn in their running shoes and make their way to the concession stand where we’re waiting; however, until that happens, we still have each other, that silly race to watch, and all the chocolate we can eat (because what’s a concession stand at a race without some chocolate?)
I got the idea from Helga.
Love:
Time to rise from the ashes of whatever relationship traumas you’ve experienced and turn yourself out to be a better, bolder and brighter bitch (patay tayo diyan! I don’t think turning to into a better and bolder and brighter bitch than before is a good idea) than ever before. Yes, your year of transformation has arrived. Expect your ass to get kicked into taking a good look in the mirror, to see that your place isn’t in someone else’s shadow and that you can have your own standards, not just ones that another has imposed on you. Thankfully, as you take on this challenge, you’ll find you’re a quick study, swiftly surpassing those exes you once thought were so perfect and beautiful. The best part of fine-tuning your bulls**t detector is discovering your new ideals and magically attracting options to do your research. That’s right, forget those little boys, time for the real men. (I’m planning to switch from men to boys pa naman!)
Madness:
Once you know what you feel, what you want and how you want it, you’ll want it. However, the universe doesn’t revolve around you and the speed in which you want things can’t happen. The fact is, if it did unravel the way you’d want, it’d burn you up fast and leave you bitter. Remember, you’re the sign of structure and patience, which is paramount to reinforce if you want to get a solid footing for your future. Not to say results will take forever, they just won’t appear instantaneously as you’d hope. This means having time to test the waters and letting the stage be set. Take it as a good thing, as it’ll give you time to live out your fantasies and be that dirty little birdie you always dreamt of, but felt too prim and proper to ever be. Besides, how will you really know what you want, if you don’t thoroughly take the time to taste all the flavors that could satisfy?
Obsession:
The legal eagle in you will be front and center, as you’ll be out for making deals stick. You’ve learned your lessons and you refuse to be burned again — and this won’t just mean your love life, but in career too. Your savvy will be at an all time high and you have something valuable to offer. Make your demands and get agreements set, as keeping others on the same page will be vital to your sanity. While this will bring you big wins, it’ll also bring you big losses. However, as you journey up the ladder of success, this is all part of the process, as the hotter you get, the more intense the flames will burn.
“If it is somewhat accurate, which I believe has a good possibility, I will tell you… like no relationships until April….. that’s how I see it too….. funny this horoscope thingy thinks I’ll have sex still without a relationship whatsoever. But I don’t really like how my March looks like, it’s blank, WTF!!! I’m expecting a lot for my March, well not really related to sex and love anyway. It actually makes sense, I’ll be super busy by then there will be no time for S&L “
Last Sunday was the first time I ever heard this song, it’s written by Jared Anderson, it’s sooo simple but I really love it.
Amazed
You dance over me,
While I am unaware.
You sing all around,
But I never hear the sound.
Chorus:
Lord I’m amazed by You.
Lord I’m amazed by You.
Lord I’m amazed by You.
How You love me.
Bridge:
How wide
How deep
How great
Is your love for me
Lyrics from http://www.autumndaldo.com
So last Sunday, the 18th of January, I bought this book, The Other Hand by Chris Cleave.
What made me buy this one is what’s written on the back cover:
We don’t want to tell you too much
about this book. It is a truly special
story and we don’t want to spoil it.
Nevertheless, you need to know
something, so we will just say this:
It is extremely funny, but the African
beach scene is horrific.
The story starts there, but the book
doesn’t.
And it’s what happens afterwards that
is most important.
Once you have read it, you’ll want to
tell everyone about it. When you do,
please don’t tell them what happens
either. The magic is in how it unfolds.
I barely touched it, but I read the first few pages it’s difficult to actually put down but I really need to focus on my review. You might want to check it out.
My favorite part so far,
On the girl’s brown legs there were many small white scars. I was thinking, Do those scars cover the whole of you, like the stars and the moons on your dress? I thought that would be pretty too, and I ask you right here please to agree with me that a scar is never ugly. That is what the scar makers want us to think. But you and I, we must make an agreement to defy them. We must see all scars as beauty. Okay? This will be our secret. Because take it from me, a scar does not form on the dying. A scar means, ‘I survived’
I wonder, what you consider when buying a book? Because whenever I go to Fullybooked, National Bookstore, Powerbooks… I always end up buying a couple and now they’re lying around my bed…
I normally buy books with: Pink covers, Pop Art covers, David Mitchell’ like covers, Titles with Cherry Blossoms and Asian themes.
You?
This is my 401th post. I can’t believe it.
Anyway, last night before going to sleep (I’ve been having trouble sleeping lately), I thought about random stuffs. Random memories of my childhood actually, most of them, and I want to share them.
BTW, when I was young, I was so naive, and well, maldita?
Let’s start with the most recent one.
Last Sunday,
Location: Starbucks, Fullybooked Bonifacio High Street
What: After spending 1/4 th of the day there (the other 1/4 was spent on the other Starbucks, the other half of the day on driving and going to church) well I was going out of Fullybooked taking a rest from studying and going to church, since it’s on the third floor I need to go down the escalator, so I walked to the escalator and stared at it for a minute or two, tryin to figure out what’s going on since the escalator is moving towards me. After a minute, I realized it’s the escalator going up from the second floor.
Location: MSI
What:
When I was a transferee from Montessori to MSI at Los Baños,
- A “friend” spilled ketchup over my bag, on purpose, after his GF’s friend asked him about what happened in their “Boy Scout Camping trip”, the GF’s friend told them I was the one who wants to know.
- I played a lot of role-playing, Greek Gods when I was in Grade 6, over at the field right across our school, played baseball at Baker field and went hiking up Mt. Makiling. Walang magawa in other words.
- I felt like there’s a need for me to be a goody-goody when I was young, so after transferring schools, I saw a classmate, who was super thin, and he told me he wants or needs to get into UPHS, since we’re Grade 6 then, I told my other classmate I want to do a project, to tutor him, he found out about it, got mad and told me, he doesn’t need my help. I know, WTF.
- I learned to curse/swear in Grade 6, since kinder I was in a Catholic school, and the worst curse you’ll probably hear was, “Shit”. When I transferred to MSI, I call it culture shock, they were swearing a lot. One day this guy was pissing me off, well when I was a kid most boys like to pick on me, so I was super pissed and I blurted my first curse in my whole life, a super “P I mo!” and that exact moment my adviser walks in the room, her eyes glaring at me.
- We had this “Night away from home” thing in Grade 6, basically the whole batch sleeps in their classrooms, and the next day, after the night away, I woke up and nobody’s left, I woke up super late everyone’s home already.
Location: My Grandmother’s house (dad’s side)
What: We used to live at Quezon and normally since my Lola lives in Nueva Ecija, and it’s freaking far, we bring her “pasalubongs”, after finishing my can of “Coke” I filled it with pebbles, thinking they were candies (I was young). Once we got to her house, I gave it to her as a gift. She nearly drank it, good thing I stopped her from doing so.
Location: Tali Beach, Batangas
What: Again, I was super young, we were camping out with my dad’s bosses children and their friends, all of whom were English speaking, I started to talk to them in gibberish, as in trash pare!, pretending I know English! Well, I thought I was speaking in English, they don’t make sense to me either anyway. I think I was 5 then.
Location: IJMCP
What: I was supposed to emcee something at school and we were supposed to meet and practice. I arrived at school and waited for everyone for about 6 hours. I was talking to my favorite teacher then, I was in Grade 3 I think, and she got busy, checking papers I think, I walk up to her Calendar and realized I got the date mixed up, we were supposed to meet the following day. I told my teacher, I’ll go home instead of waiting and never told her the truth because she commented on me “Ayoko ng ganyan, sabihin magkikita para magpractice tapos late o wala pala”, “I don’t like people who says we’ll meet and practice and doesn’t show up”. Hehehe.
I do all kinds of silly stuffs. Seriously.
Location: Bedroom at our apartment near our school in Laguna.
What: There were 1 queen-sized bed and a single one, there’s about a feet or a feet and a half separation between the two. One day, while alone, I decided to do a tumbling or flip from one bed to the other, I did… I did ended up between the two beds, after a mo. I had to check with the doctor why I can’t jump and now I have a permanent bump on my back, my spine got misaligned.
Location: Our house at Quezon
What: It’s not really our house, it’s owned by the company where my Dad used to work, inside this huge place are two houses, we lived in one of them, the other house is for guests. We had a swimming pool, a mini golf course, playground (swings, merry-go-round, slide, name it…). I dislike studying since I was… born…. and there’s an exam coming up and remember how your parents used to force you to go to sleep during afternoons? Well, I had an option, either I take my “siesta” or I study, I chose neither and sneaked out of the house, went out to play with our “kapitbahay or neighbor” that time, and they hit my face with the DAMN SEESAW… I came home crying and bleeding and my mom got mad, because I sneaked out. Damn it.
There are a lot more, but maybe I’ll write about them again next time, this is getting really long.
How about you, care to share some?
