Cake!!

Maaaan. That was some previous post, wasn't it? I had to catch my breath while I was reading it. Now how the hell did I manage to be both mean and pitied at the same time?

This moment of my existence has got to be written off history. A vastly brutal phase emerging from the grounds of who-knows-what. Who knew an almost twenty-year-old lunatic would have the strength and dexterity to grasp all of these stricken at her with an embossed dignity? To tell you honestly, I had barely wrapped a finger on the situation, Internet. But, I attacked it head on.

Perhaps all of it was too much. Too heavily brought. Too unbearably real.

I wanted to post as much as I possible could. My art. My food. All the things that drives my being. Not just the I-hate-world part. Fighting all hurdles isn't what life's about, my dear Internet. It's what we're fighting for that makes life worth living.

My birthday's coming. Who wants cake?!

To Saint Nicholas of Myra

Dear Santa,

What's up Sir Nicholas? Hope you're not too busy. So according to my contrived delving, you will in no possible terms ignore any white flag that reaches you. Well you see... I have not been and in which case I verily mean never had been a believer, ever. I'm guessing I just always loved Christmas, every snowy-bejeweling sprinkled molecule of it. The tacit awareness set aside. The anticipation for food, gifts and of course, chachiiiing. There is just something in the impending cacophony of squeaky laughs and giggles from little sugar-hyped rascals. Yeah well who else? It is the infamous, ineludible agitated ninjas ermerging during this time of the year, including yours truly. So let us cut to the chase shall we?

Well mister santa sir, I am proud to say that I have been a really really REALLY bewitchingly good lil' girl. Well atleast I try to be. So I'm assuming and truly hoping that I'm in your nice list. HIHIHI I know, I know. I should not be getting above nor ahead of myself. But really now. I have been extremely good my ENTIRE life. (well of course acknowledgements to all drunken and hormonal actions done hihi) This is my first and *fingers crossed* not the last time asking you. So what the blushing nose reindeer! Here goes nothing!!!

by the way, these are clearly 19 years too late. So it better be good. Kidding :)

A box of the best tasting chocolate I could possibly ever EVER devour.
A top of the line knife set (Henckel or Wustoff to be quite specific) bag included
Another box of chocolates haha
Best EARphones made (can't stand headphones ughhhhh) I repeat, please oh please, no big-ass headphones
Two pairs of vans (Men's US 7, Women's 6.5)(gray orange-lined, the other one hmmm surprise me!)
A set of charcoal, graphite pencils and a drawing set
Skylight confessions, Illumination Night and the Third Angel books by Alice Hoffman

And now for the more over reaching gifts,
A 13" Macbook air
A white iPhone 4s or after whatever upgrade Apple has, no surprises, miraculousy whipped up in just a matter of nanoseconds!
Courtside tickets to the impending 2012 NBA finals
A fairy god mother (Cosmo and Wanda would suffice)
My mother's perpetual peace of mind
Papa's health
Adine's career success
World peace
The end of world hunger

A little over 19 things collectively, but hey, my smile is priceless! :)

The End

She's Alive!!!

Yep.. It's official. I am verily the most unstably stable person alive (Why yes Internet, I believe this is yet another paradoxical statement). Sorry to say, but the facts must and shall be blurted out with all hard on conviction. An adamantly embossed label might as well be zapped right in the middle of my forehead saying "Beware: ridiculously too fickle to fiddle".

I can now understand how the perks and chirps inside this head are wound up. Little cracks and twists here and there. Not exactly an impervious labyrinth to get lost in, but actually really quite close. You see.. Any normal human being couldn't truly, even inside different realms tested, would be able to decipher the rather absurd complexities I have. These what may seem to be absurdity now, are the very things that mold me to who I am. It's what makes us who we are, who we'll be.

So instead of isolating myself from this world, even from all its cruelties, I should learn to face it with my head held up, handsfree. Defense mechanism off, no masochistic ammunitions in hand whatsoever. I must slowly peel off the armor I built. Learn to trust and feel. LIVE.


Life is testing me. It's testing my families' capability of surviving this fucked up event. Myself as a daughter, even as one struggling individual. Something this big should have been taken care of a lot sooner, a lot quicker. It had almost devoured all of us completely, unnoticed. I am really scared. I'm afraid I'm not strong enough. Strong enough for the three of us. Help us dear God. Help me for my family. I forgive mama. I cannot even imagine hating her. She's my everything. Cliche as it may sound. But I would die for her, right here, right this second.

I love you, ma. So for now... What's for dinner?

The Walking Dead

Is it possible to feel both the anguishes of pain and the numbness of the cold at the same time? They say that the cold numbs you. It tricks every single vein into transporting the signals of pain straight to our credulous minds and then sends it out through the nostrils instead. A sort of deranged yet still an entertaining way of looking at it, right? Though despite all my efforts in rationalizing these in my quirky ways, it still hurts. Burns and fades the numbness' miracles.

I had no idea the coldest could ever be colder. I am not talking about some lover's love here, Internet. I have been clear to have been over that. Though it still exists, I can no longer pretend and mock you guys with the bigger issue, the entire picture.

I have a father. A living, breathing biological "papa". Though what seems to be perfectly "normal" to me turns out to be a helluva lie. I was entrapped by crudeness, the warmth that was deprived from me. I was lurking in a jacked up fairytale I creatively made up inside this humongously callow head. It could have been either an accidental feat or a humored coincidence. Who's to decide?

I cannot bring my self to lay down each and every word, the unfortunate truths.  You may think I am some strong weirdo for carrying all these right above my bruised shoulders. You are dead wrong. I'm weak. Unyielding but vulnerable. I keep everything in. Not giving any shit about the possibility of exploding. The dilatory fact that I will eventually burst into sad, insignificant particles carelessly diffusing in the air.

Make my heart beat. Convince me that I am in fact, breathing and, well... Alive.

FOODGASM

Have you ever doubted yourself? Yeah I know, I know. What a moronic question, right? Obviously. In this damned universe where nobody is ever good enough to be something... (apologies for the sudden apprehensive bitching) We ALL do. Every single day, maybe even every minute, perhaps even per nano second. Why do we have to be so hard on ourselves? And let me tell you Internet, torture-filled, pure agony HARD. Why cause such pain to ourselves then? Why of all people, we ourselves bring us all these fucking pain?


I would like to think that I am gifted with the amazingly cliche power of clairvoyance. Or I pressume something like that. I can see the future. A blurry sight but somehow a clear view in my own way. Or may I pressume again... I can freely choose to see the things that I want to see. Quite frankly, too fucking much of it. I know who I am. I have known every microscopic root and reason of my still occuring evolution since the day I was yanked out of my mother's belly (I believe my mother's womb is the safest place on earth and the beyond which made me not want to leave that perfectly cushioned cage of muscle and tissue). Heck all the causes and the unmistakable conciliatory effects of my existence. I know what I want to be. Though despite this egotistic perspective, what truly is behind and what is efforlessly hidden is a scardey-ass that obsesses in pleasing everybody else rather than herself.


What do I really want? What am I yearning for? Freedom?? Happiness?? Oh good Lord, how I pray for such unreachable things. I am stuck. Boxed in the sharp unfathomable corners of a god-forsaken place masked with an ingenuously deceiving term, a "classroom". *Deep breath*

I want to be more. Learn more. See more. FEEL MORE. I had become as numb as a botox-battered temple. I am astonishingly getting in the hang of fooling the people around me with cracked smiles that I can't help but shiver from my own fear of luring myself in it too. I am a good person. I can attest that with all the remaining debris of my heart. Or atleast I always try to be. In every single way, form and every possible thought of any saint wannabe. I don't belong there. I really don't.


Now the gazillion trillion million dollar question is.... What the hell am I going to do with my life? I graduated highschool with honors. Won chess tournaments across districts like a barbie cloaked hustler. Became bestfriends with mathematics. Gained diamond worthy friends. And now, the reflection I see is a sullen shadow, barely making an image, in her third year of college, exuding a constipated confusion-infused look, not even knowing how or for even how fucking long she has been cold and lifeless, she wants nothing else but to be alone and do absolutely nothing, in translation, just allow herself to rot until she transforms into plain old house-dust and waits to be sucked into a 10000 peso vacuum. Yep. The Ultimately Pathetic Filipino-Chinese Dream.


Food is what drives me, it is what rattles my core. I know this sounds crazy but this is what I want, what I NEED. And I'm good at it. You can fucking bet I am! But I want to be better. Be my BEST. What the hell is so hard to understand?


I am now in my 3rd year of college, taking Entrepreneurship major in Culinary Arts. And so far, whatever it is that I learned in the past 2 years of my saturday classes that I've been taking (since in weekdays I do not have any other choice but be a regular student and study all those business stuff), I can absolutely learn in a couple of days of serious delving. (And I am being kind) AND FYI, I still have about 2 years left after my 1 year internship. Talk about wasting both MONEY AND MY PRECIOUS PRECIOUS TIME. Time that I feel like keeps on rapidly slipping away, without my conscious presence. Believe me, if I'd stay longer than this coming semester, oh god forbid I am going to slit my wrists with my own newly sharpened knives. AND another FYI, I figured out sharpening knives on my own!!!


To wrap things up, I am pretty sure of my plan in the next couple of months. And that is to pursue my long neglected passion. Escape from this suffocation of how-to-be-an-entrepreneur stuff. One more semester left and a year of internship to go, and this butterfly will soon be free. Cheers to future FOODGASM!

I will finish this semester, join the one-year internship abroad. And hopefully.. NO. Let me correct that. I will DO whatever it takes to be able to stay there, earn and train to be the real deal and make my mama proud!

First things first, I must clean my act up. Fix my clearance so I'd be able to enroll. Let some sunshine and the effects global warming hit my skin and somehow gain a social life, be a Van Gogh diciple again, start smarting up with culinary knowledge more, and who knows? Something might just pop up in some random polluted corner?


Man.... Do I feel better.. Thank you reader.. whoever you are.

I Missed Me Too

Did I serve the term missing-in-action even a tiny bit of justice? I believe so. Heck, I clearly do. Missed me? Well Internet, I did too-- I do. I fucking missed myself too. I missed having this opportunity of being able to channel all my bickering, bitching, ranting or whatever the hell you want to call this modern-savage way of releasing both the stress and the "distresses" of life- of this crookedly presented shenanigan people call life. Okay. I will say this now and never repeat it again. I will not even attempt to read my previous excruciatingly existing posts. No matter what I do or even try to wish for to disappear, no genie is powerful enough to make all the pain go away. Now I hope you guys aren't thinking my whole empty world simply revolves around this one memory. It is verily an undeniable occurrence of the realities of love but will only forever be a mere flake of my entire existence. A simple memory, and not the currently being written memoir. Now enough of this crazy broken-hearted fistful of tears and pain. To put an end to this post-melancholy fragment of my being, I would like to end it with this statement. Okay.

I had finally found love once, though lost it defenselessly. Now, if there is one thing this unfortunate event taught me, it would be that something as inestimable as love will always be worth hurting for, most especially when you know that in the end, you truly, soul-baringly loved and felt loved.

Now this is where my life truly begins.
Chapter 1. The Pulverized-hearted. The Paternal Love Seeking. The Loner. The Life's Purpose Bombarded Rose.


Watch out world. This cuckoo will make a helluva comeback!

My Discovery

Hey. What's up? I am currently sitting my ass down a semi-cushioned chair in my Literature class. You read it right. I'm literally sneaking this post in. So okay. The poem we're reading today is Discovery by Wislawa Szymborska. (don't worry, it also took me a number of times to pronounce this right) My professor made us write our own, also using I believe's. So I thought about sharing mine. Clearly far from the great Wislawa. I know it's a little rushed but hey, better appreciate rather than bash, people!
PS. Save me from school!!!!!!

My Discovery
by Rose Diola

I believe in the girl I see over murky waters
I believe in her damp cheeks; her chapped lips
Her yearning for warmth; her thirst for piercing glaciers
I believe in the echoes of her cracking voice
Bouncing off the very shadows of her reality
I believe in every single barren breath she inhales
The hoarded pile of exhales; those wasted gasps
I believe in the zests and zings she extracts
Consuming as much insipidity and staleness as it could take
I believe in her benumbed touch
Caressing surfaces that cut her, gashes her soul-deep
Her mere existence is an abyss of cloudy facades
Stares with her fist closed tight, the other half open
Invariably armed, made stronger every day
Though under this cold metal plates, lay delicate layers
Her nakedness would still, forevermore, itch for formless silk
I will believe, I will.

You Too

How are you all doing? I bet it took you a couple of seconds to contemplate and meditate with extreme precision to answer that. As for me, I am happy to inform all of you random somebody's that I have successfully maintained my perpetual insanity yet surviving existence. It verily has been quite a while. Though to tell you the complete and utter truth, as heartbreaking as it already has been, not a single microscopic thing has changed. All I could still see is the same empty and hallow reflection I've been seeing these past few months. Okay. I know, I know.. Back to fucking square one all over again. Yeah yeah. I see a lot of unprimed bushy eyebrows raising just about now. I could only imagine how easy it is to judge on the other side of screen.. ...... StrangerNumberOne announcing to his whole entire hypothetical world that there is this desperate romance-junkie that keeps on wasting her already worthless time, spreading her pitiful germs to the rest of this perfectly imperfect universe. This idiot exudes nothing more but the epitome of both absurdity and stupidity. Now that's harsh, wouldn't you agree? Waaaaay harsh. Even too harsh for a dead ice-cold zombie you know. Couldn't you go easy on me just this one time, harsh harsh world? Could you?

So okay. I know I am the one who persistently and morbidly has been too hard on myself. But I really am trying. Trying and not settling okay? So please, enough malicious assumptions okay? I am on the verge of jumping over the cliff of you-know-what. And that you-know-what isn't what you're thinking you perv. So basically what I'm attempting to blurt out is... I'm not running anymore. I'm now letting go. I'm letting myself go. No vindictive strategies or what so ever. A squeaky clean slate of pure hope but with a tini-tiny dash of much needed sarcasm.

Proud of me? I can only hope you are.

There has never been a single slow roasting day that has passed that you didn't cross my mind. It's like my brain is on slomo rewind and is stuck there. Unseemingly doing its own thing, functioning as if it is not capable of doing anything else but just that. Live and dwell in the past and stay there, sitting more comfortably thinking that it is in its bearer's womb. But you know what makes it more disturbing than what it already is? I like every gloating bit of it. It feels right, something forevermore feels familiar and safe. Both the missing part and the part that makes me whole. Now I better end this in a short and a not so sweet tone before I get the chance to stop myself yet AGAIN to post this.

I just miss you okay. I always have and trust me, I forever will.

???????

When there isn't a single component of your awfully jaded life that is even near to what is decent or should I say, the "norm". Boy, you are definitely in deep and nasty shit more or less your entire life. But hey, don't feel TOO bad. I can absolutely relate to what you guys are experiencing. So I guess we can conclude that.. WE ARE NOT ALONE. Just about now, I have encountered yet another flagrant duel with an endangered specie more familiar in the name of "my-big-sister". Sheessshhh. Can't I just have one calm and peaceful week? Okay. Now enough shit about my existing oh-so-eccentric life. I am not the complaining kind. I may be (pardon for my excessive honesty) a bit off to what we are familiar with as sane. But I'm the type who simply deals with what is given. And handle it the best one can possibly could. Now sharing what's inside my big head doesn't necessarily translate into complaining, does it?

In my recent post.. Uh. As uncomfortable as it is for me to say this. But ummmm. *fidgeting with my chocolate-covered fingernails* I literally had a relapse. FYI: for new readers, I am in no way an addict or an alcoholic or whatever. I am just a simple 19 year old barely-a-woman suffering with a serious case of mestasized and pulvurized brain, heart and soul caused by nonetheless the four letter word that happens to be the universe's biggest evil. I assume I just acted a bit way too over my crazy head and slowly became too damn sure of my delusional self. And you know what the worst part is? Among all bonkers combined.. This cuckoo should have known better.

Well, I don't really know where this post is heading. And quite frankly, neither do I really care. I'm just letting my fingers flow over random letters. Letting words fly out of my unscrewed mind. But really though.. Where the hell is this going? Where am I?

It's 12:01 in the morning. And I'm here. Breathing? Yes. Alive? I highly doubt. Dead? Now we're talking.

Relapse

I've always wanted to freeze time. Have control over any hasty blink. Be able to see every underneath depth of every surface worth remembering. It is verily a regretful loss. I can only hope I had rewarded all of my senses a bit more time to absorb and lock much as it can- while it still could. My conscience keeps on hovering my thoughts. It pushes me to dilatorily realize that missing a nanosecond of any of my daily cursory sights would be one of my life's great losses- perhaps even the greatest. And to top off this unforgiving sundae of pure despondency, there is nothing more I could do to get those back. I wish I had considered every single glance of even the blurriest of these facades a second and deeper look. But a lost time is as good as a lost breath. Second breaths are never the same. It keeps us alive, but never guarantees complete relief. Though, who says preceding breaths can't be better? I know I didn't.

As living creatures with needs, when human nature creeps in, voluntarily or against our will, instincts get the best of us.

I have written lots of rejects these past couple of days. I couldn't pull anything in me that would make myself want to share this ridiculously shameful relapses I'm having. I feel so bad exposing this. I feel so weak. I know I'm not making any sense right now. But I'm trying my very best to scrape even the thinnest layer of hope that I have to continue moving on. This post may seem quite vague and pointless. But let me tell you.. This is the closest I've been to progress. Like what I said, in a more conforming term, I had a relapse. And currently just getting back up my callused feet again. Don't you worry! I'll be posting more often and release some of this auspicious aura one painful layer at a time.