I Can't Handle My Feelings Ugh

HERE'S A WEIRD, FUNNY THOUGHT: FEELINGS SUCK. 

And I'm not just talking about a petty, "he's-kinda-cute" crush. I'm talking all-consuming, years-of-suppressing, blind-siding, I'm-starting-to-feel-pathetic kind of crush. 

18 years later and I'm still stuck in the same situation: never putting myself out there to reveal my true feelings and ending up just silently dying inside. Different person, same situation. Every. Time. My love life might as well be a freaking vacuum cleaner because it sucks. 

Why am I sitting here blogging about it when I can go ahead and profess my undying love? Truth is, I don't know. I'm a wuss, let's leave it at that.

I guess you can say it's my fault for always playing it safe by never taking a leap of faith, but you know what, it's for everybody's good. Why ruin a perfectly good friendship with feelings and potential misunderstandings when you can just play the role of a really good friend in his life and try not to chew glass when someone so much as flirts with him. It's simple, really.

There's this pretty ancient Taylor Swift song called "Invisible" and it's one of those songs that I just listen to and not feel anything because I couldn't quite relate to it. But now it approximately has 66 plays in the past 6 hours and I've cried approximately 6,000 tears (just kidding) (but it was a rough 6 hours).

Long story short, it's another tale of unrequited love -- which is now, also, my life. The fact that my stupid crush was not at all that likely to have a stupid crush made this whole stupid thing a lot easier because I didn't have anything to worry about. And it comes back biting me in the ass. 

Complacency!!!

I don't know how to navigate through these emotions. I'm not even allowed to have these emotions in the first place because I'm no one of significance whatsoever, but biology betrays me once again and my instincts tell me to either cry or eat cookies. So far I've done both.

But the point is: I'm torn between a) shrugging it off and just accepting the fact that okay, he likes somebody else (SOMEONE WHO'S NOT ME), or b) just completely abandoning my feelings.

Plan B is semi-in motion because I've realized that this is ultimately quite pointless. 

It's pointless if I'm never gonna act upon these feelings (unlikely) and it's pointless to wait around and see if he feels the same way about me and confesses before I do (even more unlikely).  

And honestly, this is all starting to feel a lot like high school to me which is bizarre because I'm technically an adult, and adults don't deal with their feelings by quietly pining over someone from a sizeable distance away.

It's fight or flight... and I'm choosing to fly away.

You could say it's the easy way out because it means never having to confront your feelings, but I'd like to say I'm being smart about this. Might take longer than I'm imagining, but still manageable. How hard can it be to get over a cute, smart, funny guy like him who's a complete pain in the ass but is still irresistible? Pffft. Pffffffffft.

And as for my love life: abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

Dante Magazine

I don't mean to toot my own horn, but I'm really pleased and amazed with our final magazine for our PUBLISH class turned out! For something that was crammed in the span of 2 weeks, I think our team did a pretty good job putting together this thing of beauty.

Janine's layout is really what brought everything together and despite the minimalistic approach to the design, I think this is where the whole "less is more" thing really applies. 

Dante is an art magazine and we intended it to be a creative outlet for the youth. It focuses on aesthetic and writing, which I really love. And for our first issue, we decided for it to revolve around the theme: The 7 Deadly Sins which inspired the name of the magazine -- Dante -- meaning Dante Alighieri, the author of Inferno.

Initially, we thought it seemed like such a heavy theme for a magazine. When you think of magazines, the first thing that comes to mind is either pop culture, high fashion, and the like, but we thought deviating from cookie-cutter ideas would be quite refreshing.

These are some of my favorite parts!

Flipping open the magazine and seeing an all-black spread sets the mood immediately. I was flipping out over how nice this will look if it were actually printed on glossies. So freakin' cool.

The contents of the magazine are basically short stories, proses, poems, photography, and art. Most of them we wrote ourselves, but we had to get contributors who could bring the magazine to life and provide us with good art.

This was a poem I wrote a year ago. I first wanted it to be published anonymously, but hey, if we're talking about expression and creative outlets, I might as well go for it, right?

One of my good friends, Adriel Tangoan, took this lovely image. I had to creep around his Tumblr account where he used to post most of his photography and I found this gem from a year ago!

The most interesting part of it was writing fictional short stories for the seven deadly sins. The theme was kinda tricky and the challenge was articulating emotions in a subtle way and let the story creep up on the reader. It was a lot of fun! Writing for envy and pride (admittedly two of the sins I'm most guilty of) made me cringe BADLY. I had to transform my "zone" into something dark and toxic. I hope that it worked? Haha!

I thoroughly enjoyed writing Walls. Guess I just have a knack for sad shit.

If you want to see more, you can view the entire magazine here!

It is accompanied by a website and I am incredibly proud to say that we own the domain! Weehoo! You can also check out the website here. It would be real lovely if you did!

Change

What a cliche but necessary thing to write about this new year. "New year, new me" and all that crap. And while I secretly roll my eyes at those pledges people make to themselves (and dare I say they last shorter than a Kardashian marriage), I like the idea of a fresh start. A clean slate. And every new year, it's an opportunity to "upgrade".

I like change as much as the next guy, sure. Changing the bed sheets, curtains, basically anything for hygienic purposes, but if it's a rather drastic change, like, say, an impulsive haircut, for me it feels like the world has tilted off its axis and rolled towards an all-consuming black hole. Change. Yikes. Not really my thing, but in the interest of full disclosure, I will explain.

Anything that doesn't stomp around familiar territory, my immediate instinct is to cower away and metaphorically (sadly not literally) hop on the next train to Nope Town. I don't exactly welcome change with open arms, in fact, I detest it. 

I've always had a thing for hiding underneath the cloak of familiarity and comfort. I always need a little push (make that a full-on shove) to get me to do something that I normally wouldn't do. For instance, my fear of change is obviously reflected in my hairstyle. Fun fact: I've had the same haircut for the last 10 years, I shit you not. Aside from cutting it once a year (another fun fact: I like haircuts as much as I like terrorism), my hair is basically a "virgin". All it took was one bad trip to the salon a couple of years ago to shatter my faith in hairdressers and make haircuts a traumatic experience. It was a disaster and I've been cutting my own bangs ever since. Not once have I tried to dye my hair before either. Why not try a new hairstyle for a change, you ask? Well, there's not really an undo button for hair, is there? Or an undo button for life while we're at it? My desire for change is often overpowered by this fear, pushing me into the far corners of safety and... boringness.

The point is, the way I feel about my hair is the same way I feel about the other things in my life. Change requires a leap of faith when I'm perfectly fine with just hanging onto my safety harness. Change means losing what you've long been acquainted to without some sort of reassurance.

I'd like to see it as a sign when I read Dash and Lily's Book of Dares over Christmas and completely related to Lily. She wants to embrace danger and shed her Lily Bear image which I'm also trying to work on.

In that case, let me present to you my new year's resolution (which I will take seriously): learn to see change as an opportunity to grow. My comfort zone is ginormous which means I have to take the extra mile to push myself. I will learn to react positively to change; to react more like "Oh that's not what I'm used to but it'll make me grow as a person" and less like "No no nono nonono".

I would list down my other resolutions but this blog post wouldn't end. Truth is, there's a lot of things I'm working on, but part of that is to learn to take things day by day. I mean, I didn't expect myself to be a changed person  the moment I opened my eyes today, but there will be progress. Might be a slow one, might be a quick one.

Thank you, 2014, for being a totally shitty, totally fun year full of ups and downs (more than what I signed up for, really) without which, I will never be who I am right now. The next year has a lot of promise and opportunities and I intend to seize them.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'll be spending the next three months awkwardly scribbling "2015" on papers.

I don't know if it's the ridiculous amount of free time I suddenly have on my hands, or my laziness to start reading the eBooks I so greedily downloaded, but these past few days I've been spending an alarming amount of time on Elite Daily. Totally fine, just catching up on hate/love-related articles ad nauseam.

So here's the thing: I stumbled upon this particular article that rubbed me the wrong way, to say the least: An Open Letter to The Girl Who Let The Nice Guy Go and my thoughts can't seem to shut up about it.

Yeesh.

Normally I'm not brave enough to share my private thoughts, especially those concerning my perspective on love and relationships and sparks and all that bit because really, what the hell do I know? But while I may lack enough firsthand experience, I'm still no stranger to unrequited love. I've been on both ends and it's not really smooth sailing. 

Long story short, the author explains that at some point in your life, you're going to encounter the "Nice Guy". He's going to be sweet, he's going to call on time, he's going to stick around when you push him away, and when you look up the word "nice" on the dictionary, his picture is going to be there. True, then the author smacks you with her entire point which is do not, under any circumstances, be the unappreciative girl who lets him go for some douchebag to fulfill your fantasy of being said douchebag's Gamechanger and taming the wild beast.

Still true. Partially. I mean, yes, you're bound to encounter the Nice Guy, but guess what, your experience may be relatively different from everyone else's which is totally okay.

A thousand eye rolls later, I still can't seem to emphasize that just because he's a Nice Guy doesn't mean he's the Right Guy.

Don't get me wrong, I completely understand that this kind of guy is ready to hand you the world on a silver platter, but that doesn't mean you owe him anything. Apart from being nothing but honest and grateful for having a person like him show you that kind of love, his kindness does not give you the obligation to love him back. Whether a relationship works or not does not depend solely on his kindness. Sure, it weighs a lot on the hypothetical scale of love, but there are other things and aspects to consider. His passion, his dreams, his perspectives and how he sees the world, (his relationship with your mom??), and the list can go on. 

And this doesn't mean you're "picky", but avoiding having to "settle". This doesn't mean that you're unappreciative either, because a guy who waltzes into your life, ready to be your Ted Mosby is an amazing guy, but he might not exactly be what you need. 

You don't have to feel guilty about letting the Nice Guy go. I once read this quote that stuck to me ever since: "There is a difference between genuinely liking someone and liking the attention they give you." You don't have to confuse those two things. If he really is a genuinely Nice Guy, he's not going to assume that you see him as an inadequate person, but simply just not The One.

Lo and behold -- that, my friend, is my two cents on this whole thing. Always felt the need to actually say it, but never really did, and now that I have, I am one less fedora-tipping guy away from strangling somebody.

SEVENTEEN

An obligatory birthday post in which I reflect upon the past 17 years of my existence and whether or not I went through interesting developments, or even in the slightest sense, epiphany.

This post is actually 2 weeks late as I am known to be the least punctual person ever when it comes to uploading and posting (I'm working on it), but better late than never. 

I thought turning 17 was the perfect excuse to ask my friends Earl and Steph to give me a hand in a mini-photoshoot. This, my friends, is where I finally live out my blogger dreams if only for 30 minutes. And I obviously look like I don't know what the hell I'm doing, which is totally true, but in my defense, all of these so-called poses are my attempts at looking like those girls on Seventeen magazine. It's a total bust.

Ah, seventeen. I'd like to say it's the comic sans of my teenage years. The age that doesn't have much significance -- just another year older from being sixteen. Except being seventeen entails a new level of maturity and emotional stability. Of course, the morning of my birthday I woke up feeling completely indifferent and unchanged which was a huge WHAT on my part. I look the same and feel the same. But I've been discussing that dilemma ad nauseam so I figured, why not try to be the glass half-full kind of person and focus on the things that finally separates the sixteen-year-old me from the seventeen-year-old me.

What good is a one year difference and why am I making yet another melodramatic teenage post about it, you say? Well, for starters, I'd like to think I went through interesting developments. I'm finally thrusting myself into situations beyond my comfort zone and I'm finally trusting myself enough to say "yes" to more things, which is huuuge considering how my mind automatically jumps to the worst-case scenarios once I walk into unknown territory. I'm learning to see these new experiences as opportunities to grow instead of opting to cower away. I'm learning to celebrate the little things that count -- like getting the right amount of sleep, finishing a challenging book, and the like.

And of course I feel like I can't get away with still being ~juvenile~, so I'm definitely, positively determined to find that right aura of sophistication if it's the last thing I do. This means being less of an obnoxious turd and more of a proper lady. Which, by the way, is going to be an extremely difficult challenge for me as I live off of sarcastic remarks and sardonic comebacks. Old habits die hard.

This is one of the few boundaries I dare not cross because the realm of love and relationships isn't exactly a walk in the park. I hardly ever thought about relationships before, much less tried to do anything about it, but the glaring absence of the ever-sappy "love life" has become such a big deal that it's impossible to ignore. It's as if everybody's somehow agreed that no teenage life is complete without the luxury of having a boyfriend/girlfriend. I'm not exactly a frontrunner on the whole flirting thing, and it's a little silly, but I try to steer clear of the whole issue. Total blobfish feeling inside each time. What most people overlook is that 'being alone' and 'lonely' are two completely different things. So no, a love life is not some requirement or some item on a checklist, in order to be "happy".

Now normally, when faced between two decisions, I'm the type of person who always ends up choosing the wrong one. And believe me, if my instincts had a face, I would punch it. I would insert an anecdote or two, but that's not something I should advertise. My instincts aren't entirely the culprit of this situation, but also my sense of judgement. And mostly I think it's my indecisiveness, but point being, unless the situation drastically calls for it, I should second-guess my instincts. Yep.

And now to wrap it all up, I guess I don't have to be what everybody else needs me to be. If there's anytime to figure out who I really am and what I really want, it's now. And I don't need to depend my self-worth on anybody else but me. If there's anything I've realized is that people shouldn't get to tell you what you're worth, but rather the other way around. And this is probably some lame, teenager-meets-the-world kind of shit, but I'm a firm believer in being nobody but myself. Even if I don't like myself all the time, I'm learning not to beat myself up too much about it.

In conclusion, I'm in my 2nd week of being seventeen. I'm probably gonna screw up a couple of times and as far as cheesy posts go, well, que sera, sera.

The Joys of Film Class

One of the many perks of majoring in Communication Arts is studying film. To top it all off, it's an honor to be taught by Sir Clodualdo del Mundo Jr. who's an award-winning film genius and not to mention, can pull of the killer combo of socks and sandals. He's definitely not the objective type of person as he doesn't require written exams so far, rather insights on the films we see.

We literally started from the beginning, watching the first few sets of moving pictures 'till we progressed to silent films and then to the dawn of sound. And contrary to popular belief, it's really not a struggle to stay awake in class. We've seen a couple of films these past few weeks and there are two films that really stuck to me. So I figured I'd share two of my film reviews for our midterms just because.

Bicycle Thieves (1928)
Vittorio de Sica

The film revolves around a young husband, Antonio Ricci, who has been suffering a prolonged unemployment but one day finds a job that requires a bicycle. His wife then agrees to pawn their bedsheets in order for Antonio to get a bicycle, only to have it stolen the next day. Out of sheer desperation to keep his job, Antonio sets on a wide-ranging search for the thief across Rome, accompanied by his young son, Bruno. 

The film was consisted of a good amount of long and wide shots, emphasizing landscapes and the hustle and bustle of the city. It perfectly captures the busy streets, clogged with unfamiliar and hard-bitten faces. The attention to detail was what I liked the most – the visual aspects, such as the indifference of the crowds and vehicles, and occasional reckless behaviour that contributed to the setting of the “harsh” reality of the city.  

Bicycle Thieves’ plot is simple in construction; however it takes pride in its richness in human insight. What seems to be such a mundane problem means the world to Antonio and Bruno. What’s gripping about the film is that the emotions the characters convey and the events that unfold are raw with unpolished edges which makes it vulnerable and pierces even the most callused heart. It follows the journey of a father and a son, and their focus on survival in rural life. I think the film is not only a form of art, but a social statement of post-war Italy, with a horrible system of justice where even the police is of no help. The film was poignant and extremely frustrating because you root for these characters and yet the odds never seem to be in their favor.  The film puts emphasis on the vicious cycle of poverty, where Antonio is torn between setting a good example for his son by doing the right thing, and keeping them alive by also stealing a bicycle to keep his job. The moment where Antonio succumbs to desperation, with the futile attempt to steal the unguarded bicycle was the most heartbreaking scene. You can’t right a wrong by doing another wrong thing, and that is the lesson Antonio ignores as he hits rock bottom. His horrible loss of dignity was lessened, if only for a little bit, once Bruno holds his hand. The cruel and harsh world in which they live in is brilliantly told by Vittorio de Sica. It brings the audience’s attention the world and what kind of things actually occur on a regular basis.

I think this film requires a lot of patience as it progresses slowly and it takes you along the grueling journey of the wide-range search. It's exhausting, and frustrating, but wonderfully told.


The Last Laugh (1924)
F.W. Murnau

The film revolves around a doorman, played by Emil Jannings, who works for a famous and lavish hotel by being positioned in front of the busy revolving door, greeting and assisting the elite guests. The old man takes pride in his uniform – with its brass buttons and fancy details – serving as the embodiment of the hotel. However, he is demoted to the position of the washroom attendant after being considered too old to infirm the image of the hotel. 

The production and technicalities of the film played a crucial role in the overall visual experience of the film which is its essence, considering it is a silent film. The lack of dialogue, and even printed inter-titles, emphasized the Murnau’s ability to tell a story through the language of the camera, replying purely on visual cues and sound effects. The highlight of the film for me is that it is pantomime – conveying emotions through body movements, facial expressions, camera angles, and the like – which I consider is the beauty of silent films before the dawn of sound. It lets you focus your attention on the characters’ actions, along with the eerie instrumentals. I especially enjoyed its cinematography – the angles and the panning of the camera.

The plot of the film, although not as complex as postmodern works, it is hauntingly intriguing enough to stretch for an extended amount of time. One of its crowning highlights is the presentation of the main character’s descent from someone who was admired by his neighbours to being the object of rude gossips. It is heartbreaking to see a man being proud beyond all reason of his job, only to have it taken away unceremoniously. Much of the doorman’s source of happiness is in what he does and the absence of his uniform equated to the absence of his identity. It pierces the heart and hits right where it hurts the most – the knowledge that these things happen on a daily basis. The streets are full of forlorn people like the doorman and not everyone is fortunate enough to have a plot twist as incredible as the one Murnau added. The doorman reads in the newspaper that he inherited the fortune of a millionaire who died in his arms and the last few scenes are spent showing his new happy life, eating extravagant food and drinking expensive champagne. I think it’s nice of Murnau to not leave it at the doorman stuck in his dead-end job, waiting for his death. The art is in the tragedy; however I find the alternative ending refreshing as it tugs the heartstrings.

This film was haunting, with its grotesque cinematography and style of story-telling. The fact that it's a silent film makes it all the more eerie! I personally enjoyed this and Emil Jannings' acting. He also starred in another great film called "The Blue Angel". To be honest, this is really depressing and if Murnau didn't throw in that alternative ending, I would've thrown a fit. Haha.

With all these classes for the degree I'm taking, I feel like I start to notice more things now, especially the ones I take for granted. I feel like I'm not just looking anymore, but actually seeing and it's remarkable and I feel myself growing. And the world looks slightly more alive and vibrant and sad and poignant, and it scares me but it's exhilarating. And it's only just the beginning, just the tip of the iceberg, and I'm more than ready to absorb and take everything in -- to look, to listen, to analyze, to pay attention.

It's daunting, but I feel like I'm finally noticing.

Sixteen Sucks

I've been sixteen for almost two weeks and I'm surprised I haven't written a melodramatic teenage post about it yet...

...until now.

Truth was, being sixteen is overrated. My unhealthy obsession with movies and series re-runs has seemed to plant the idea in my subconscious that I'll wake up feeling like a new and improved person. In reality, I woke up to the crippling pain of a leg cramp from all the walking I've been doing for the past few weeks (which is thanks to the new city mayor who I might just want to punch in the throat).

The thought of being sixteen and being smack dab in the middle of puberty has always intrigued me. Isn't this supposed to be the part of my life where I suddenly wake up with a bodacious body and a guy throwing pebbles at my window? ...the answer is a big fat no.

I don't feel any more different than I did the day before my 16th birthday. I looked the same and I felt the same. It was just another crap day in two-thousand-suck. I've looked forward to what it feels like to hit the age of 16... and what could be better than to see your expectations crash and burn?

The glaring absence of interesting events in my life is stirring panic in me. What if I spend the last 3 years of being an official teenager without even experiencing half of the things I see in movies? What if I let those 3 years slip by without even going on spontaneous road trips and sneaking out to get Slurpees with friends and basically recreating 1979 by The Smashing Pumpkins?

Maybe I am being a little too idealistic, but this wasn't entirely the picture I painted for myself. My life's like a bad sitcom. Maybe I'll end up on my ass in front of a laptop forever, accumulating dust. Plus, I find it uncomfortable how almost half of the teenage population is all about #livelife, but then there's the other half of the population whose idea of "YOLO" is to do dumb shit and call it living life to the fullest.

As far as action goes, maybe this is the most I'm gonna get -- whining on my blog. And while writing dramatic teenage rants seems to be something I'm good at, maybe my life will get interesting plot twists at some point when I least expect it. After all, that's what life's about.

Sure, it may not be perfect and it might seem like a total shitstorm at first, but I think odds are, I'm gonna stumble upon great things... and great people. Eventually.

Although I have to start embracing the idea that it may not be Jake Ryan waiting outside the church for me the day after my sixteenth birthday or John Bender pumping his fist in the air, but it will be something great, nonetheless. As much as I want John Hughes to direct my life, that was far from the reality I'm stuck with.

Fine, maybe 16 doesn't completely suck. There are, of course, a lot of nice bits and pieces. Admittedly, I'm a person who jumps to rash conclusions, but it's when I seem to be in an eternal dark vortex of doom. It's a little too early to tell ergo for the mean time, I'm gonna let fate work its magic and let things fall into place... which, frankly, might take a while

The Horror of Public Transport

Don't get me wrong, I love being in a crowded place. It actually makes me feel normal... and not alone.

Just as long as we're not squished together inside a bus that smells like a mixture of morning breath and sweaty gym socks... with peanuts.

I'm fully aware that I have to start embracing the whole idea of being human sandwiches everyday for the rest of my college days, but there's something so repelling about touching skin that's not your skin. Skin that you don't even know if is washed. Skin that secretes salty sweat. Unsavory.

Being a claustrophobic individual makes all of this harder than it should be. I'm the type of person who considers my personal bubble as something sacred. And you shall not breathe nor move the air inside my bubble, you should not touch anything that's inside my bubble, nor should you reach in my personal bubble. That's a line you wouldn't wanna cross, buddy, especially during nature's monthly visit or I will throw you over the border of Mexico with my bare hands.

Now that that's cleared (English is so weird I just used "that" twice contiguously and it still made sense), I just wanna point out the little things that cause me the biggest pain on public transport.

First of all, you get free lap dances whether you like it or not. The problem with getting from point A to point B in a crowded, not to mention moving bus, is that nobody cares what they're doing just as long as they get to point B. They don't care if they accidentally or purposely rub their goodies on your butt or your lap or whatever part of your body happens to be exposed to this tragic moment of your commuting life. If it isn't obvious yet, yes, I'm talking about middle-aged men who think girls don't notice it when they grab the opportunity to grind their manhood on what our momma gave us.

It's creepy. It's wrong. And I can live my whole life without having to know what your hoo-ha feels like, thank you very much.

Be prepared with the various smells that trail behind people who leave, by the way. Sometimes it's pleasant, but for the most part, it's agonizing to my nose. If my nose could speak, it would just be saying a chain of swear words. The smell of other people's clothes rubbing on my clothes isn't so appetizing.

It isn't just the passengers' interesting variety of scents, but it's the smell of the bus itself. There's a funky scent in the air that just makes my tummy turn. Like I said, a mixture of saliva, peanuts and sweaty gym socks. Don't ask how I came to this conclusion because I smell everything. Which is another downside of dealing with public transportation everyday.

Moving on, there are just people you come across with everyday who don't give a shit. Whenever I'm on public transport, I try not to piss anyone off while making myself as comfortable as possible, but some people are just downright asking for it. Yes, I'm referring to you sassy old women who think they can get away with everything just because they're old! I don't care if you're as old as my mom, or my aunt, or hell, my grandmother. Whatever your age is, my rules are simple: if you're gonna act like a bitch, I'm gonna treat you like a bitch. Be nice or I'll fucking slap the dentures out of you.

These women literally just use their huge asses to throw people out of their way. Guess we already know one of the advantages of being old.

Another thing, being slapped by backpacks first thing in the morning isn't the best way to start a hormonal teenager's day. Namely, mine. Oh, you're backpack is so cool! Look at that, it's Jansport! I conveniently noticed because you just literally rubbed it on my face. Don't be fooled by those flowery backpacks, they might look harmless but they're the worst kind of public transport juggernauts. They're capable of mass destruction. Who knows what they have in there? A bowling bowl? Their dad's golf trophy? A human arm?

If you're taller than the average Filipino and are towering over me, you better not breathe down my neck, my arm, my face. Basically, just don't breathe on me. Don't breathe my air 'cause I certainly don't wanna breathe yours. I don't wanna inhale your carbon dioxide, dude. We're not that intimate.

And before I got to experience going on public buses on a daily basis, I refused to believe chivalry is dead. But I stand corrected.

I literally stand corrected 'cause there aren't any more available seats and I'm just watching this muscular dude in his mid-20's who look more than capable of standing for one whole hour while fighting inertia, sit there and watch as the women struggle for balance.

I'm not being sexist here or whatever 'cause guys have the right to sit down too and they probably came from a long way, but it's so rare for guys to offer a seat to a lady who might be biting down the agony of  cramps from menstruation.

And when I do see a guy or have a guy offer his seat to me, I just wanna grab him by the shoulders, look him in the eye and whisper "God bless your kind soul." It really means a lot. Honestly. It's a big deal. Incredibly. Wow. Just. I.

I think I basically covered everything about the cons of dealing with the different kinds of douchebags you'll meet on public transport. Don't get me wrong, there are a lot of good people too, the ones like me suffering from their ignorance.

Dear person-who's-always-always-on-public-transport,

        Things will get better... the moment you get off the bus stop.

Now I just have to sound like I'm convincing you more than I'm convincing myself.

Just please, be nice. Do everyone a favor and don't be a douchebag. Also, do everyone a favor and throw the nearest douchebag into the busy traffic of Taft.... haha, just kidding.

Or am I???????!?!??!?

First Week of College

The first 4 days of my stay in the university was an absolute blur. The really good kind. I knew what was coming. I was already prepared to be the "new kid" for the first time in 10 years. I was no longer in the comfort of my friends who I've been with for years, my school was no longer just a small scale one that wasn't even a kilometer away from my house. 

As much as I love the familiar, there's something about a whole new everyday life that excites me too.

I was excited to make a whole new set of friends, make new memories and take on new opportunities. I'm not usually one to welcome changes with open arms, but I'm trying to keep my perspective as positive as possible. And with the help of the fact that my parents are paying a shitload of money with their blood and sweat just so I can study in this prestigious school, it makes me even more determined to make my stay here as fruitful as possible.

The first few days were tricky, awkward, half in and half out. You never really know if you're supposed to make the first move or wait until they introduce themselves to you. But being the really loud person I am back in high school, I couldn't STAND awkward silences. 

I couldn't just sit there in a room full of people without opening my mouth every once in a while to say something. It just makes me fidgety and frustrated because I can't last a day without having to laugh at something with someone.

So I realized that if I wanted to make friends, I'd have to do my part too. And I did. And I don't at all regret it. I may come off really shy at first because it's really just my attempt to spare you my incredibly weird side. I'm pretty much just stalling until we get close enough until it's too late for you to escape my weird self. Haha. Not really... yeah, really.

Everyone was nice and jolly and enthusiastic. Which was reassuring because if there's one thing I hate about myself, it's feeling like I'm annoying someone. I didn't want to come off as the "clingy" friend nor the one who looks like they're too cool to socialize either. So everything was really about balancing them in a way.

The second day was when the fun started. The professor for our first course didn't show up within the first 30 minutes so we had our very first free cut. Yep, you heard me. We popped our free cut cherries only on the second day. Haha. It was scary at first because it wasn't something we were used to. In the end, we had a pretty fun first free cut. We stayed at the "American Room" in the 13th floor of Henry Sy.

Buildings don't usually have 13th floors which sort of creeped me out, but what the hell.

DAY 2! From left to right: Clarice, yours truly, Earl, Gabby, Carl and Sofia (taken from Aaron's phone)

Day 3! With Dianne, Aaron, Louise, Sofia and Carl (Taken from Aaron's phone)

We took a bunch of other photos, but I couldn't retrieve them. Haha. Blockmates didn't upload! [Weeps violently]. Nevertheless, they're really cool and funny people. It's never boring with them. 

I really wanna have the chance to develop a friendship with each of my 47 blockmates. It's quite unlikely, but I want to try to at least have conversations with them every now and then. Getting to know people is the best part for me, because you learn things from them and hear stories you've probably never heard of before. And it's a challenge to get to know someone, but there's definitely no rush.

As much as I want to elaborate further on my first week of college, my neighbors are playing really shitty music. Loudly. And it makes me wanna barge in there and shove them inside their stereo to see how they like it. It's not even the good kind of music! 

Long story short, I think I'm gonna have loads of fun. And this is definitely just the beginning!

Desperation

My fingers are throbbing and I have crazy eyes. My inner fangirl has once again gotten the best of me. Circuit Fest is just right around the corner and it's the perfect music festival to end any summer, particularly, my stinking summer. And here's where I get to the really bitter part of this story: I don't have tickets because as much as I wanted to pay for them myself, I don't have school allowance to save up anyway. It's summer, I'm broke and I'm stuck at home.

At first, I didn't even think it would bother me that much because I've missed a lot of concerts and a lot of my favorite bands and those frequent situations has lead me to believe that I've grown numb. But now that it seems I'm the only one who's not going, I'm sort of panicking. Misery loves company.

Let me just point out that the line up is flawless and to say that I love those bands is the understatement of the century. I've been listening to them for years. Some of them are coming back (and, by the way, I also missed their previous concerts) like Yellowcard, This Century, Mayday Parade, WATIC and A+D. And just the thought of missing them AGAIN is enough to make me want to throw myself off the second floor window.

Allstar Weekend, Before You Exit and Downtown Fiction are coming here for the first time ever. And I am going to miss them for the first time ever. 

I would've settled for To Rock tickets. Hell, I'd be really ecstatic if I got a hold of General Admission tickets. I just want at least one interesting and happy thing to happen in my entire summer. Is that too much to ask?

And like any other broke fangirl, I've resorted to, that's right, online contests.

I didn't join much because I'm a lazy fuck and most of them required "likes" from Facebook which I've had enough of. During the peak of my band phase (which happens to be last year) I've joined a number of contests, bugged a number of people to like my entry, desperately waited for a number of times and sobbed and weeped in a corner as I realized all my hard work went down the drain and I didn't win.

But because I'm broke. And peso-less. And desperate. THAT'S NOT GONNA STOP ME FROM ENTERING ANYWAY! (Even though I'm expecting heart aches and disappointments at the end of the tunnel.)

What the hell, I decided to give it one last shot tonight. Nick Automatic decided to hold a giveaway and they're giving away 1 VIP pass to Circuit Fest with 2 shirts. Who wouldn't want that, right? So this happened.

I hit tweet limit the same time I hit rock bottom. My fingers are sore, I can't feel my butt and all hope is gone. I'm just here blogging the pain away because I'm in twitter jail and I'm gonna have to wait another whole hour before I can start being annoying again. 

They're currently randomizing the tweets to pick winners for each round while I'm currently weeping and fighting the urge to roll on the ground. 

Why did I even get into this fandom? It is ruining my liiiiiiife. 

I'm going bonkers.

LPEP 2k13 and Plunging into Unknown Waters

Like any other Froshies, it was mandatory to attend the LPEP as an official welcome to the university as well as an orientation. It was overwhelming as much as it was fun.

LPEP was a two-day activity that was out of my comfort zone. It is my beginning of finally opening up to things that I normally tend to avoid because I was officially stepping into the world of college. As scary as it sounds, I'm proud of how I managed to maneuver my way through the entire day without the company of my best friends. It was lonely and was definitely something I'm not used to, but I liked how independent it made me feel.

The first day was basically consisted of speeches, setting ground rules, getting-to-know-you activities and a campus tour. They arm you with the basic information you're going to need to survive the next 3 or 4 years of college. But of course, what they can't arm you with, are social skills.

"Just go out there and make new friends!"

Yeah, right. That was easier said than done. It's not like I have an attitude problem or intense awkwardness I couldn't handle, it's just you don't know what to expect out of every individual. Coming from a really small school in a small town, I've been with the same people for the last 10 years. I didn't switch schools, but there were new transfers every year. It wasn't hard to be friends with those transfers because they would usually just be 4 or 5 new kids. I didn't have to go through being "the new kid". I was always in the comfort of my friends that I've known all my life...

...until now.

Sure, it was easy to engage someone in a conversation, but the tricky part is to keep the conversation flowing. I was still testing the waters and I was choosing my questions really carefully. You wouldn't want to make the wrong impression. And first impressions are always critical.

After basically getting the names of everybody in my block, I didn't know where to go from there. Who do I sit with? Who do I make small talk with? Knowing me, I wouldn't last a day without cracking a joke or two, and it was difficult to keep it to myself since I don't know who to share it with... let alone, if they'll laugh at it.

So at lunch time, our whole block sits at a really long table that was enough to accommodate us. But unlike high school, I didn't exactly know where my place was. Being in that situation, I decided to make the most of it. I met a lot of interesting people, but most times I just sat there observing. I like to people-watch.

And most of them already had their circle of friends. I took comfort in the idea that they might have come from the same high school which also sort of bummed me out. I didn't know anyone and I was desperate for a familiar face.

We then had our block photos: a formal one and a "wacky" one.

(Aww, I personally love this one.)

To top things off, I had a fever. I was doing well the first few hours, but once we were in our respective classroom, I felt the flu coming down. Which sucked because it slowed me down for the rest of the day. I didn't have the energy to smile at all. Walk around, even. So I wasn't the best company that first day and I don't really blame anyone for not hanging out with me. I wouldn't want to that day either.

Before I went home, I went to Starbucks and met a whole other set of people there. This time, from different blocks and levels. It was interesting to plunge into a whole new scenery, a place filled with so many unfamiliar faces with names I have yet to collect. Being in a crowded place without really knowing anyone there makes me feel more alone than I am by myself in an empty room.

Strange, but exciting. Intimidating, but inviting.

The second day was a whole lot better especially since my fever went away and the activities were much more fun. We had games and I got to meet my other blockmates that I didn't meet the first day. And the Animo Party was definitely the highlight of the afternoon. I loved how everyone was so united and oozing school spirit. I couldn't help but stare in awe at all of us dancing and singing together and just thinking that this is going to be my family for the next 3 or 4 years now. Perhaps even longer.

And this was just the beginning.

So maybe it wasn't exactly what I'm used to, but I like the challenge of basically pressing the restart button on the context of friends, knowledge and experiences. I'm up to exposing myself to different opportunities as well as meeting amazing people.

Maybe it's not as easy as high school, but that's the point. I'm through with that, I'm on to the next level of life. The very intimidating make-it-or-break-it world of college. And why should I let it eat me alive when there are boundless of things I could experience the moment I open myself up to whatever this new chapter throws at me.

I know eventually I'll settle in and warm up to my new everyday routine and new friends. I know I'll look back to my first day of college and think "Err, man, that wasn't perfect, but I grew as a person, as an individual since that day."

So basically, after my two days of LPEP, I learned one vital thing in 2 words:

Open up.

Taking on College: The First Chapter

Okay, the title isn't as dramatic as I intended it to be, I just wanted to point out that there's only a couple of days left before I face my College blockmates, a.k.a. the people I'll spending the next 4 years with, for the first time. And I have to make an impression. The good kind. 

A couple of days ago, on May 9th to be exact, I have officially enrolled in De La Salle University Manila for the first term in my first year. I will be taking up AB Communication Arts and I couldn't be happier. I've always wanted to be involved with Media, be it in writing, film-making or broadcasting. 

I'm beyond excited. And I couldn't help but feel anxious and scared. I would be stepping in a whole new world where nothing is as it used to be. It's pretty much like hitting the "reset" button. New friends, new classes, new school, new opportunities.

But being a hardcore realist, I couldn't stop myself from weighing both the positive and negative outcomes. And that is exactly what I'm planning to change. 

I enrolled by myself in the Henry Sy building and it wasn't at all complicated, they have all the instructions and steps laid out in front of you. You could also just ask the guards any time if you have any questions. I received my enrollment kit in Step 3 which looked like this: (Minus the bag)

I think it's obligatory for your College ID photo to look as horrifying as possible.

My ID literally only took 5-10 seconds of photographing. It was mandatory to have your hair down your back and I literally just threw my hair over my shoulders without even bothering to smooth it down. And don't get me started on my smile. You can actually feel the awkward.

I'm just sorry I'm gonna be stuck with this photo for the rest of my stay in La Salle. Talk about embarrassing.

I also got my student handbook which came along with the enrollment kit. With all the rules and regulations of a huge university, it was necessary that I get myself familiarized with at least the majority of them.

In addition to my student handbook, I finally got to see my schedule! It's really interesting because all of the subjects are new to me. I like that my classes start at 8 a.m. to give me enough time in the morning to prepare and get on the bus. My Tuesdays are going to be the really tricky ones since my last class ends at 5:30 which is usually the time where buses are a little too cozy with all the people stuffed in it.

My Fridays are off which is a good thing because it'd be like a long weekend for me for the rest of the school year. But I'm not planning on wasting it at home doing nothing when I can join different organizations and devote my free times there. I'd both be expanding my social life and my knowledge. It's a win-win situation!

But most of all, I am loving my Thursdays. Not only do I get to go home early, but the next day is my free time.

And since I basically have 2 hours of lunch everyday, I plan on meeting up with high school friends every now and then especially with Andrea and Shad. Shad happens to be my schoolmate and Andrea happens to study a couple of blocks away.

And right after I enrolled, my mom and I decided to go to The Store to get shirts for my everyday use as well as for LPEP.

Most of the shirts are a tad pricey, but it's definitely worth it because not only do I like the quality of the tees, but also its designs. I bought 3 shirts: a white one, a green one and a baseball tee that is both white and green. I'll be wearing the green one for my LPEP and it's definitely my favorite. I like the edge of the shirt because it's cut really differently and the sleeves can be buttoned up in case it gets really hot.

I even made a friend in the store. Her name's Karen and we both happened to be in the same college which was Liberal Arts. She'll be majoring in History and I found out that she's a huge fan of classics and refuses to read YA novels. I feel like she's missing out on the fun of reading YA's, but she said she likes British shows, which I do too.

After going our separate ways, my mom and I decided to go around the campus while waiting for my sister to finish her LAMB job with that day's LPEP.

That's basically my May 9th, and I told you it wasn't as dramatic as I intended it to be.

On Rain and Tea

I spent the day indoors today (well there's a shock) mostly just watching movies and TV series and basically just being a lazy turd doing nothing to be productive. My last summer vacation before the dog-eat-dog world they call "College" didn't exactly turn out the way I wanted it to... but I saw it coming.

What makes today special though, is the rain. After weeks of agonizing pizza-oven-weather, the sky has graced us with sweet, sweet rain. 

A lot of people hate the rain, I assume because it's wet and cold and dark and depressing; but I beg to differ. I always see a rainy day as a day to just step back and time seems to slow down and it just gives you an opportunity to sit and ponder on the things you usually don’t have time for.

I spent the afternoon drinking English tea with milk, Braso de Mercedes and watching Angus, Thongs and Perfect Snogging.

I really like the fact that I’m starting to get really into tea because I used to dread its scent and its taste. My dad would always save a small amount in his mug and make me drink it, but I’d always secretly gag and swallow anyway just to get him off my back.

But now I like to think I drink tea for the mere pleasure of it. (And it’s really sophisticated, if you ask me, which I could get a huge dose of)

I’m currently in love with Oolong tea as well as Black tea. They’re both incredibly refreshing and could go with either lemons or milk. 

I’ve been waiting for it to rain for weeks and now that it has, I guess I went a little overboard. There was just something comforting about staying in bed in your pajamas, wrapping yourself in blankets, sipping tea, watching movies and reading a book on a rainy day.

Everything seems to slow down and it's calmer. There's something about a dim sky that just makes me think. My best thoughts seem to be usually induced by rain and stillness and the silence.