Useless

Yesterday was slightly worse than most of my days. Today was a little bit intolerable. As I stared at the reflection in the mirror, all I can think of was "useless." I sighed and did what I could to conceal my puffy eyes. I would not want to walk out of my room with "I cried my eyes out last night" written all over my face. I gave up. The best thing I could do was hide the dark circles under my eyes. I grabbed my purse and headed out for another average day at work. I faked a smile for the cheerful neighbors and security guards. Walking on the sidewalk, seeing blank expressions and hurried walks made me remember what happened yesterday.

Yesterday, I proved that a photo is indeed worth a thousand words. It was a single photo which triggered the stream of words that would later on complete this entry. However, a photo is not just worth a thousand words. It is also worth a thousand emotions, a thousand possibilities, a thousand tears. As I stare back at the photo of the happy couple, a whirlpool of emotions stirred inside me. My optimism suddenly turned into a feeling of great failure which dropped on me like a ton of bricks. I tried to compose myself, yet I knew I was about to burst into tears. I made up some lame excuse to go to bed early. I lay in the dark as my pillow caught each tear and muffled each sob. The mixed emotions hit me like vertigo. The spinning was too fast that I was getting a headache. Then there was nothing but the endless stream of tears. The feeling of defeat washed over me. Each tear that escaped my eyes is a fallen petal from a once lovely rose. A rose which I worked so hard to take care of. I gave every ounce of my humanity to that rose for it was my life. A life full of love, beauty and hope. A life which was coming to an end. A life which was, at that moment of failure, replaced by withered leaves and thorny stem -- a bottomless pit of lifelessness and pain.

I opened my eyes to the sound of the television outside my room. Right then and there I knew I made it through the night. My eyes started to water again at the thought of making it through another useless day. I lost the only thing that kept me going. I lost that one strand of hope that would save me from this zombie-like lifelessness. I lost my heart. Yesterday was my life's epiphany of pain. It hurt so much that today I walk across the city with puffy, teary eyes and a blank stare that screams useless.

Working Girl

The next step after the very grim graduation -- getting a job. It took me well over two months before I got a job. Back in college I always told myself that I can do better than those who go to a typical 9-5. I guess I was wrong. Again, I am just like everybody else. Average. However, in this mediocrity I found the extraordinary. In retrospect, I have this opinion because I never seemed to understand what is average. I was always a few steps ahead or behind. This "real world" that I had been so afraid of was in fact not so bad a place after all. True, I am alone, but not lonely. I miss my friends and family a lot, and I despise the proximity of Friday to Monday, but this is my chance to see the world with my own eyes. I can leave the house as late as I want and come home late without being questioned. I can walk a mile and not worry about my pace being too slow or too fast. All I have to think about was the serenity of my walk despite the hustle and bustle of the big city. I can ride the train and enjoy the music of my choice or the book that I have been meaning to read. Somehow my office hours take away the bitter aftertaste. I can open my eyes and not be haunted with what I am seeing. I can extend my arm and not be afraid to touch new sensations. I can slack off without worrying about a failing grade. I can open my mind once again and take in new information, lessons and opinions. Most of all, I get extra bragging rights, haha kidding! What I meant is I can do whatever I want whenever I want. To mediocrity, I am not saying that I prefer you. I will overcome you in the next few years; however, right now, I just want to enjoy the world like any other average first time working girl.

Cycle

The end. This is usually how all stories end. Not this story. This story started in the end. The drama began when I said goodbye. I left without an explanation -- I had none for myself. I just know that I am willing but I am scared. You had no clue of what happened to our fairy tale. You were left puzzled. This was the beginning of an unending moratorium. You called me for days, you went to my house, but I just had too many excuses. Hence, you gave me my space. You patiently waited for an answer even though you are dying a little everyday for not knowing. I thought that being alone would end this frantic ambivalence. It did not. It made me miss you when you were away but it made me want you to go away when you are here. I could not understand what was happening to me, until I realized that you are my friend. You always have been that person who would protect me, make me laugh, give me a hug, hold my hand and wipe my tears. It was too late when I realized I made a mistake when I fell into the trap. The trap of thinking I was in love. Well, you fell for it first. It was just foolish of me to jump in for a rescue without thinking of a strategy. I figured out how to get out of the trap. I tried it, it worked. I wanted to help you get out, too. Somehow my way does not work for you. Whenever I tried, it was either I got dragged in or you got hurt in trying. Nonetheless, I did not want to stop. I was selfish to force upon my perspective. It was selfish because I did not know whether you wanted to get out. Maybe you did not. Maybe you refuse my way because you have your own, but until then, until I am sure that you would be able to escape with nothing as much as a scar that I caused, I would not stop trying. I have a feeling this might take a while. It might even take forever. This story would never end. How could it when it is a never-ending cycle of beginning in the end?

My silly bum life realizations

Seriously, chef Gordon Ramsay is one of my idols. No, I am not a cook. I can't even cook for myself! I'm just a push-over teenager who lived in the shadow of others all my life. Now that I graduated college and I am turning twenty in less than twenty days, it's about time for a change. Ironically, my bum life gave me all the time to think. Well, that is in between writing blog entries, tutoring my sister, and watching my cute hamsters. I have come to realize certain things in life.

First, life is full of lemons, and I sure hate lemonades. Seriously, life's lemonade is like a left over of our problems. Sure, it tastes better, but it certainly cannot be denied that it still has that sourness that makes our faces twitch. If we choose to solve our problems, why not go all the way? Why not go for a scrumptious meringue pie instead of lemonade? This sure reminds me of Mythbusters. "If it's worth doing, it's worth overdoing."

Second, there is no such thing as glass half-empty because technically, the glass is always full. It always has one part water and one part air. It is not about the positive thinking nor the negative thinking. It is about the right perspectives. You know how some photographers take on extreme measure just to get a perfect forced perspective? That is what I am talking about. Sometimes you just have to set aside all your beliefs, all your morals to see a new possibility. I always keep in mind what football coach Jimmy Johnson said, "The difference between ordinary and extraordinary is that little extra."

Last, life is unfair as it is. Just deal with it. No to pop the bubble, but we are all going to leave this life anyway. As long as life is playing dirty, why not play dirty as well. I do not mean for you to break the Ten Commandments or the freaking Constitution. What I mean is, why not let loose a little. After all, it is your life! Nah, I got nothing witty here. All I have is... "dance hard, laugh hard, turn the music up now, party like a rock star, can I get a what now?" What, me teaching a lesson using "Till I Forget About You" by Big Time Rush? Oh, no. I was just fangirling mode with Logan Henderson! See? Even a nerd like me needs distractions like this.

So, there. I found all the time in the world to read quotes by great people, waste my time in front of the tv, and listen to pop music. On top of all that, I found the time to collect my thoughts and organize them. Somehow, I feel that I would be looking back at this entry a lot in the future!

Spica, my little fighter

"Don't cry because it ended. Smile because it happened." -Dr. Seuss. Smile? How can I smile about death? Death is the ultimate end -- at least for those of us who are left on this world. Spica left me just moments ago. He was a brave little hamster. He was the smallest of the pups, he was missing a hind leg, yet he knew how to assert himself to get mommy's attention. On the day he was born, I feared he would not make it. He went against everything I thought. Survival of the fittest? He did survive. Mommy hamster getting rid of the weak ones? He was strong enough. Three limbs and couldn't walk? He ran. Pass the fourteen-day crucial period for pups? He got through better than I expected. He was a fighter. I got my hopes high for him, but he did, indeed, went against my thoughts. I thought he and I would share three wonderful years together (average hamster lifespan). I thought wrong. I love all my pups, but Spica had always been special. He was the first one to get a name. Spica means the brightest star in the constellation Virgo. He was a star to me. My sister always picked on him for being slow (forgive her, she's just a kid), but I knew he was just a late bloomer and he just needed extra love and attention. I had already planned out three years of love and attention for him. I made a promise that he would live a full and happy life as if he was normal size and as if he had four limbs. Just like that, my promise was broken, just like my heart. It was unbearable to see him not moving while his siblings were excited to explore the world with their newly opened eyes. It was more devastating to go from denial to acceptance.

When I saw him this morning, he was doing great. I changed their bedding and I even hand-fed him with some cucumber. When I went to check on the pups this afternoon, some of them were napping. I assumed Spica was just doing the same. I sat with them for a while, played with those who are awake, and one by one the sleeping pups stirred and got up to play. Spica was just lying there even after his siblings nudged him. I was in complete denial. I checked back a few minutes only to find him in the same position. Tears began to trickle down my face. It was my first time to be present at my pet's death. It was a sight that would haunt me forever. It is so difficult for me to accept that I can never feel Spica's warm fur and wriggly body on my palm again, yet I can't help but think he is in a much better place now.

I know I am probably not the best pet owner in the world, but I am very thankful that I was blessed with Spica and all my seven other hamsters. At the beginning of this entry I was complete devastated, but as I went on, I come to realize that yes, I can smile because it happened. I can smile because Spica is truly where he belongs -- in the night sky. They say stars are there because they are tiny openings from Heaven so that our loved ones that passed away could watch us. He would always be that star that watches me. We may never share great moments anymore, but we made great memories; hence, death is not the ultimate end, but a journey that makes us stronger.

Spica -- July 14, 2011-July 30, 2011. Thank you for teaching me that I can take on the world no matter what. This is a very sad day for me, but in this darkness, the thought of you being in a much happier, much comfortable place gives me the spark to create light. Never stop shining. It's time for you to share your light to someone else. Thank you, I love you.

Just another one of those "reality" shows

My opinion on The Glee Project.

This is not to cause anyone any harm. This is just an opinion. Feel free to disagree. I don't usually do reviews because I hate the idea of having to criticize something, but after seeing this week's "Tenacity" episode of The Glee Project, I just had to get all the angst off my chest. So, here it goes.

I have never missed a single satellite screening of The Glee Project. First of all, I am a huge fan of Glee, and I am very much interested in its cast members. When I heard of The Glee Project, I was very excited because finally, I get to see how things work in the Glee set, plus, I have this chance of seeing a Glee star in the making. My bet in this "reality" contest was Marissa von Bleicken. I mean, clearly, this young lady has the looks, the talent, and the attitude. Frankly, I am writing this entry due to her being eliminated.

Up until Marissa's elimination, it has never occurred to me that The Glee Project is just another one of those reality shows. It is just another gig for the producers to make money and for teenagers all over the world get their hopes up only to have them crushed. I understand that these are such strong words, but I have only said them because I am very very very disappointed with the show in the past two episodes. Glee has always been preaching about never giving up on dreams no matter what, and initially, I thought The Glee Project made big dreams attainable. I guess I thought wrong. For Marissa to be in the bottom three this week, sure, but for her to leave, it just isn't rational to me. Call it bias, but if you have seen this week's episode, I think Alex should leave. Not even that. I think he should have left last week during the "Pairabillity" episode. That is, if their top criteria for leaving is one's attitude (that's what got Marissa off, wasn't it?). I don't know Alex or Marissa personally, but with what I saw on TV, I am not convinced that Alex is better than Marissa. Anyway, enough about them. The point of this review, really, is to show my thoughts regarding the strategy behind The Glee Project. Alex, Marissa, all of the contenders, they have amazing talent. It is just sad that this "reality" show exploited their talents. It could be that I have just been blinded by my excitement at first, that I did not see that The Glee Project is too good to be true. What I'm getting at is that Glee season 3 could has been already planned out. There is already a character who would guest-star for seven episodes. The Glee Project is just another money-making show. It is as simple as that. They just have to find one kid who fits the role already made, and cast eleven other kids to "compete" with him/her.

Going back, Alex is talented, but I am sad to say that he is not the best out there, but somehow, week after week after week of being in the bottom three, he slips right back in like magic. Why? Because I think the role has already been done. The script for season 3 has already been written. I am almost 100% sure that he will win this competition. If my predictions about Alex winning are wrong, I am willing to take back everything I have said and delete this entry completely, or even write a better review (trust me, I have a lot of good things to say about the show. I am just too disappointed right now). Until then, this stays here for people to contemplate.

My David Archuleta Experience

When I passed by the mall across my house last week, I was stunned to see the big bold letters in the activity center which read "David Archuleta July 20 5PM." I just had to blink, rub my eyes and do a double take. I couldn't believe it. We are talking about THE David Archuleta here. The angelic American Idol David Archuleta! I decided I just had to be there. I asked my friends and my brother if they wanted to come with me. Of course, I thought, who wouldn't want to see David -- especially me brother. He is a bigger fan than I. However when the day came, it was, again, only me and my BFF. My brother would just have to catch up because he had to be in school that day.

So, yesterday July 20, 2011. My bff and I had lunch at around 12. We knew we had to be there extra early if we want a good view. We even bought take-outs as we knew it was going to be a long wait. A little over four hours to be exact. My wallet literally ran out of cash when we got to the event center and bought the CD to be signed by David, but for once, I was not guilty to spend all my money! I know it was half of my week's allowance, but the heck, it was obviously worth it! We got the CDs and a receipt which served as an entry stub. Four hours before the event and our numbers were 212 and 213! So the waiting began.At first we were hyped, playing endlessly with our cameras, munching on the bagful of McDonald's fries. We started making funny faces, then we made shadow puppets, then we went quiet. It was actually tiring to sit on the floor and do nothing but wait. Then finally four o'clock came. We were directed inside. Sadly, we still encountered an undisciplined crowd as the line magically vanished. It was not a riot, but it was messed up enough to shatter my mood a little. Inside the event center, we enthusiastically anticipated the moment that was to come. Well, we were super excited about it as it was our first time to have a chance to meet with a huge global phenomenon. Also, I am not really the kind of teenager who would get myself into an uncomfortable position just to see a celebrity. I am usually contented with watching and listening to them on TV or on the Internet.

My heart was racing when five o'clock hit. The crowd went wild when the host came out. As expected, there was an opening act. Well, there were two. The first was the amazingly charming Mark Alain who practically had the audience wrapped around his fingers. He literally had the whole audience singing along his rendition of 'When You Say Nothing At All.' If only he did not precede David Archuleta, I could watch this guy sing all day long. The second act by Stephanie Dan, in my opinion, had less audience impact than the first. She was amazing, especially when she started rapping B.o.B.'s part in 'Price Tag,' but for me she lacked this connection with the audience that Mark had. Either that or the crowd and I were just too excited to see David. Finally, finally! After hours of anticipation, David emerged from backstage, wearing a maroon t-shirt, jeans, and that smile that never disappears. The crowd went insanely loud and people started pushing and shoving just to get a good look or a good photo. I was left there too stunned to move or to hear what David was saying. I was, literally, starstruck. I quickly recovered and got my camera phone up when the host asked David to sing a song of his choice. David asked the crowd, and I was screaming my lungs out for 'Something 'Bout Love.' There were too many requests at once, so he settled for his latest single 'Everything and More.' When he sang, he was like an angel sent from Heaven with the mission to make people smile. It was simple, it was in a capella, it was flawless. My heart skipped a beat when he opted for another song, and he did not disappoint! He sang 'Something 'Bout Love.' My id just disconnected from my superego and took over my body. I started screaming and jumping around like a little fangirl. I was extremely dizzy, exhausted and dehydrated after the song.

I did not even catch my breath so much, yet they already started setting up the table for the autograph signing. Honestly, I was very close to hyperventilation at that moment! The thrill of waiting for my number was excruciatingly painful. I just had to have my moment with David immediately! My bff and I wander aimless through the crowd as everyone probably did the same as they waited. The wait, however, was surprisingly short-lived. When I was the second person in line, I made my move and took a stolen shot of David signing someone's CD. I had one chance, it had to be awesome. It turned out perfect! Finally, when it was my turn, I was literally speechless as I watched his hazel eyes shine and his lips curve into that smile that everyone loves. Then I immediately remembered to sneak in another piece of paper to have him sign for my brother. I did. I smiled the cutest smile that I can manage, shook his hand and said thank you. He was such a nice guy! He just couldn't wipe that smile off his face, it's amazing!

I waited for my bff as she came after me. We were jumping, screaming and squealing as we headed towards the exit. We couldn't believe our eyes! We held in our hands signed copies of David Archuleta's 'The Other Side of Down' and the warmth of a handshake with the angelic pop star (and probably a gazillion germs from the gazillion people that he shook hands with lol). I was dead beat when I got home,yet ironically, I was too energized to eat dinner or to even go to sleep. I kept thinking of my magical David Archuleta experience. Everything was more than what I expected. I will never ever forget that day!

Zarya's motherhood

My chronicles of Zarya's motherhood. It's more of an in-depth thought than the actual process itself.

Zarya is my adorable little teddy bear hamster. I guess she is not so little now that she has a litter of pups. I got her and Sirius (my boy hamster) last April 29, 2011 when they were just over four weeks old. They were tiny, smaller than the palm of my hand. Sirius seems to be the calm one, just going along and enjoying the toys that I provide them. He also has minimal issues with handling and bathing. Zarya, on the other hand, seems to be the suspicious one. She bites before sniffing anything that I give her, even my hands. However, I kept them in one cage as I have not observed violent fighting between them. Little did I know that instead of fighting, they were busy making magic happen. The day before their 10-week-old home-sweet-home anniversary (yesterday, July 14, 2011), Zarya gave birth. I think neither of us expected that Zarya would become a mother so soon. I did not notice any drastic changes in her weight, though she has been behaving like crazy for the past few days, even dragging Sirius out of their home where she built her nest. I guess when I saw the stack of bedding and food in their home, I should have suspected that she was building a nest. Silly me. Anyway, it was a good thing that I cleaned out the cage two days before this blessing happened. Then again, it was the only thing that I got right.

Day 0 - It was around 12:30 in the afternoon, I was about to have lunch, so I passed by my hamsters' cage on my way to the kitchen. I did not have my glasses on, but I was pretty sure I saw a squishy red thing on the steps of my hamsters' home. I looked closer and saw that it was moving. I thought that it was a lizard, so I took a step back and I started to panic. As Zarya was on her way down the steps, I saw that there was another one sticking out of her backside. I got my glasses and looked around to see that there were already two of those things inside their home. That's when I realized she was in the process of delivering her pups. I was so worried because Sirius was still inside the cage, and I did not have a spare cage. I have read that I should get the boy hamster out because he tends to eat the pups. Also, I have read that I should not disturb Zarya because she may also eat the pups. I called the nearest vet, no answer. I called my ever-reliable friends, my mom, my brother, my aunt, and it just so happened that everyone had something going on. I was alone, I did not know what to do, so silly me, I resorted to online help via Twitter and Facebook. Still nothing. I was in a hurry to run down the pet shop two streets away. I bought the biggest cage they have, and asked for help on handling the newborns and, of course, my dear Zarya. The shopkeeper just told me to be calm, take Sirius away for fourteen days, then try not to startle Zarya in any way. I paid, said thanks, and ran back to the condo. I felt like I was about to blow up, my hands and legs were shaking as I knew that those six pups' lives and Zarya's life depended on me. At the end of the day, I was relieved to see that the pups (I'm not sure how many there are as of now because they're all tangled together under Zarya's warm body) and my precious Zarya are doing ok. On top of that, I was able to bring my family to work together by keeping calm and avoiding shouting.

Day 1 - I woke up extra early to check on Zarya and the pups. I was disappointed to see two pups outside the nest, and it was devastating to see that Zarya ate them. It was sad and horrid, but I know that it is part of nature. I know that my little rodent is smart enough to know that those two pups would be better off in another world. Nonetheless, they are still part of the family and I have decided to name them Cherub and Skylar. I hope that they are doing much better than their short life here with me. I had a peek in the nest today. I still could not count how many pups are there, but I think there are about four wriggling and yawning little angels. I have already listed names for them, but I am gonna wait till they are weaned and sexed before I name them. I don't want to end up with a girl named Sigmund, haha.

Day 2 - Little ears start to appear on the babies' heads. I took a peek at their nest while Zarya was eating. Confirmed! There are six adorable pups. Zarya seems to be doing better as well. She leaves the nest once in every few hours to play around the cage. I am just worried that she might tire herself out.


Day 3 - I woke up this morning because mom was talking to Zarya. Apparently, three of the pups rolled out of the nest and fell on the ground floor of their two-story home through the slide. I got worried when Zarya would not carry them back upstairs with the rest of her kids, but I knew better than to carry them myself. I just had to have faith in Zarya's maternal instinct. Later on instead of moving the three pups back up, she just carried the remaining three downstairs and built a new nest there. Honestly, it was be more convenient for everyone. She wouldn't have to strain herself to go down every time she eats, the pups wouldn't be in the risk of falling again, and it would be easier for me to check on them. I am more confident now that Zarya and her pups are going to make it through the crucial two-week period.

Day 4 - not much change this day. It's just that Sirius has been acting a little down. He does not play in the wheel or the tubes. He also fell asleep in the exercise ball. I was worried that he might be sick. I examined him, but nothing seems to be wrong. I cleaned his cage. He ran around for a few minutes after that, but he slept again almost immediately after. Later that night, I moved Zarya and the babies' cage near Sirius'cage. Zarya and Sirius started sniffing. I think they recognized each other's scents. Sirius miraculously became hyperactive again. It was like he was trying to find a way to get to where Zarya was. Zarya was doing the same. It's just a cute little hamster love story on top of the wonderful blessing of six new lives.

Day 5 - I just noticed that one of the pups has a bad foot. His/her hind right leg seemed crippled. He/she also looks smaller than the rest of the pups. I guess I have found the runt in this litter. I guess he/she just needs a little extra love and attention.

Day 6 - Most of the pups already know how to walk on their own. One pup already has dark pigments which means I might go ballistic in trying to distinguish them. They might all be white!

Day 7 - My pups are a full week old! Yay! I threw them a mini cucumber party as I saw that they are already trying to munch on mommy's food. They are starting to look like little Zarya and little Sirius. One more week and they would hopefully be independent!

[TO BE CONTINUED]

Trance

In my dream last night, you were there. I was in bed, it was dawn. It was the perfect blend of cold monsoon wind and light drizzle. I checked the time from my phone. It read 5:44 a.m. I saw a text message notification. I read the message. It was from you. My conscious mind was starting to build up anger like it always does whenever you bother me with your messages full of crap. However, my unconscious mind (forgive the Freudian in me, teehee) was telling me to reply. After all, it was only a dream, what could possibly go wrong? Since I was aware it was a dream, I pushed my limits. I did not just forgive you, but I also asked you to hang out. I just thought I wanted to catch up a bit, see how an old friend is doing in a life outside of me -- or at least know what my mind tells me about you. I think you pushed your limits, too. You crossed the fine line between tolerance and 'get the hell out.' I must admit, I was naive when I was fifteen, but newsflash, dear, I will no longer fall for your old tricks. Then it happened. I acted purely on the command of my unconscious mind. I was fifteen all over again. There is just something about you that I cannot afford to lose. Something always tells me that you were a significant part of my life. You hold too many memories -- precious and bitter ones. Either way they both contributed a lot into who I am today. As hazy as the streak of light that is peeking through the wall of clouds, my mind went into a foggy trance-like state. The lies sounded like sweet music whispering in my ear, making my heart beat faster, making my head swim. I fell. I let the darkness eat me in, free falling until I could see light again. I opened my eyes to find myself scrambled on my bed, my hair a wild array of craziness. I never knew I could dream so vividly. I thought I was stupid enough to make the same mistake twice. I rubbed my eyes and let them adjust to the light. I controlled my breathing, and confirmed that I was truly awake. I checked my phone for the time, but first I saw a text message saying, "see you ;)" I checked the name of the sender and my heart sank.

No need to hurry

I wrote this as a reminder that I should not dwell on stressful things too much. I am seriously getting prematurely gray.

As I look out the window on a rainy Monday morning, I start to contemplate on the life ahead of me. It's the classic Robert Frost two-roads-diverged-in-a-yellow-wood kind of stuff. After graduating, I am just so lost! Time and age have always been sources of stress for me. This has been the very reason that I stopped celebrating my birthday since I was seventeen. It is devastating that I am about to join the world of adults as I lose the 'teen' after the number as I tell my age. I hate the idea that I am getting closer to being twenty every freaking second. I know that many would think that age is just a number or twenty is fairly young to have a 'mid-life' crisis, but it worries me deeply because I feel like I have not done anything significant yet. The past few years have been difficult. They made me into a robot that acts if commanded. I never did anything out of my own will. Maybe, just maybe, I am in this stage of identity vs. identity crisis, I don't know. Then again, this very moment right here, staring outside the city enveloped by clouds and light drizzle, listening to wonderful music, I realized there is no need to hurry. As cheesy as it sounds, happiness is indeed a journey, not a destination.

I remember back in high school when I would be as light as a feather when I go to school. I felt like floating on air simply because I paid attention to what I liked, not what others liked for me. As I went with the flow, I made significant contributions to my academic activities, my extra-curricular activities, and my social activities. I forgot how it felt to have no time to spare, yet to have enjoyed every busy minute, every meaningful phone call, text message or e-mail, every person, every success, every failure. The tears, the sweat, heck even the blood, they were not wasted because I lived. I lived for my own good. I lived to enjoy and celebrate life as it was in that moment. So after all the wasted time of living in the shadows of the expectations, I just realized that expectations are just hindrances that stopped me from achieving my full potential instead of goals that should have helped me improve my life. An expectation is an extremely heavy baggage to carry. It is a burden that I carried for the past three years. I let it overpower me. I lived by it, never thinking outside it.

As it dawned on me in this blog entry, I am flattered that people think highly of my capabilities, but from now on, the only expectation that I choose to carry is my own, and guess what? The only expectation I have of myself is to be that young lady in high school but older and definitely wiser. Hence, if I fail to do so, I have this entry to remind me that there is no need to hurry.

My Neon Green Shirt

My everyday wear is consisted of whites and pastels. The more noticeable ones are kept way back in my cabinet. The one day I decided to wear a noticeable neon green shirt, I had to embarrass myself. The shirt itself is not wrong, yet it is very very eye-catching. I liked that shirt. I bought it because its design somewhat resembles a Twitter bird (yeah, I know, I'm shallow this way). I have worn it comfortably several times in the past. A friend even said it was a nice shirt. Anyway, I decided to wear it today just because I have not worn it for a long time. Also, I would be out of the condo for only a short time as I have to run only a few errands at the mall across the street. I got dressed, tied my hair in a neat pony tail, put on a little powder, and that was it. I went down the lobby, had a nice chat with the receptionist and the security guard and off to the mall I went.

My first stop, the bank. I had to deposit money as asked by my mom. I have done it before, of course, it was no sweat.... or was it? I had written my name, my account number, the date, then I get to the denomination part. Suddenly this guy beside me asked me a question I cannot comprehend because of his accent. I was grumpy because I just got out of bed and just plain in a hurry, so without turning to look at him, I asked him to repeat his question, and thankfully I got it and was able to answer it. I continued to write when he asked me another question with regards the denomination. This time I turned to him to explain, and that's when I embarrassed myself. See, this guy is not just any guy. He is a cute Indian guy probably around my age, a few inches taller than me, rocking a body-fitting v-neck black shirt and dark jeans. He had dark eyes framed by a thick brow. His chiseled face is made prominent by the thick dark curls on his head. So I marveled at this picturesque before me. It was an instant crush. Suddenly I forgot how to fill up the rest of the slip, so I just acted as if I knew what I was saying. It's silly, stupid and embarrassing! When I approached the counter, I had to ask the teller with regards the form. As the teller was encoding my deposit, he was there in the counter next to me, having the teller explain everything! As soon as I was done, I could not wait to get out of that bank and never to see this guy whom I just embarrassed myself to. I half ran to my second stop.

My second stop was as normal as it would get. Just a long wait in line to pay the bills. After that, I made my way to my third errand, which was to buy ink for the printer. I walked hurriedly all the way from the basement to the third floor, fearing that I would bump into the Indian guy. The store was on the other side of the mall. When I got halfway through the third floor, I just had to look into the glass balcony and great, the Indian guy was on the second floor checking out some perfume. Gosh, I was in a hurry to get out of the glass and into the concrete! I tried to walk briskly yet inconspicuously. I never looked back. I just hurriedly went inside the store and buy what I have to buy and get out of the mall itself.

Call it ego centrism or paranoia or whatever you want, but I curse this day of wearing an attention-grabbing neon green shirt!

My life in a flash: a thank you note

More of a rant than a thank you note, but seriously, I mean everything I say here. The things here are mostly the ones that contributed to my successes and failures in school -- my inspirations and motivations, and the things that turned the tables.

I'm a plain Jane, always has been. In preschool, I was no social butterfly who would be every kid's best friend or the gifted one who could read words with long vowel sounds. Nope, I was the kid who would sit in one corner playing by myself until someone approached me. Throughout my three years in preschool it was the same thing. Yes, I graduated on top of my class, but it didn't make me feel special in anyway. It was only until the very end of kindergarten 2 where I found my first best friend. Ironically, she was in the other class. I met her due to a dance performance for our graduation in preschool. We sat together during breaks from rehearsals. We stuck together during first grade and the years that followed. We would play together, share our snacks, and oftentimes be groupmates in school activities. We don't hang out as much as we used to anymore, but I am very thankful that she made grade school fun and memorable for me.

I love my four playmates very much, though other kids come and go from our group. I was six when we first met, our family just moved into the neighborhood. Everyday after school and during weekends we would play together, get our bodies sweaty sometimes bloody, sometimes we would even get in trouble because of the pranks that we play. We play pretty rough back then. Very very childish. When I was ten, it was their turn to move all the way across the sea (or to Visayas). I was in tears when they left. I never saw them or heard from them again after that day. However, I am very thankful that they made my childhood fun and exciting.

High school was and still is the best four years of my life! There's nothing like being surrounded by the comfort of home and the feeling of ohana everywhere. I wasn't exactly the active type nor the social type. I may even be categorized as a nerd, but it didn't matter because I had the best batchmates ever! Of course, high school will not be the best without my BFF (yep, I believe forever hasn't come yet, and I don't think it will come sometime soon). Then again, we owe it all to Alexander Grahambell. I mean we do talk and have fun in school, but the real fun begins when we talk over the phone. She is the best secret-keeper in the entire world. She has been through every silly idea, every foolish infatuation, every mindless crying, just everything in my life! I am thankful that God gave me an opportunity to meet my future maid of honor (haha!), err, I mean a BFF who lives up to her title. I would have never understood friendship if it wasn't for her.

High school freshman year was a great start. Although it was the year that I have been too sick to go to school more than once and it was the year that I lost my beloved lola, my batchmates had my back. I remember the day after my grandma's burial, I went back to school, I was crying and class H1-A never gave up on making me laugh! Sophomore year was a turning point for our batch. It was a point of maturity for all of us when we lost one dear batchmate and when we had our friendship tested during the annual cheerdance competition. Buckets of tears have spilled to garner victory, but alas, a victory was not met. We didn't emerge victorious, but we have learned our lesson which is why junior year was our road to success. As early as August we were already practicing for the cheerdance competition on January the next year. Thus, I am proud to say that we are the first junior batch that has ever won first place in the annual cheer dance competition! At that very day, January 13,2007, I was the happiest girl alive. My friends and I celebrated with unprecedented elation in our souls, and the best part, my first boyfriend was there to celebrate with us. Ah yes, the glory of first love. He was my neighbor when I was nine. We did lots of things together. We were like partners in crime when we would pull pranks. When I was twelve, I even heard ridiculous rumors that we already started dating. Sadly, his family had to move to the province later on. It had been years before we saw each other again. I was surprised to have received a call from him when I was fifteen. I was a hormone-driven teenager who needed excitement in her life, but I know better than wearing it on my sleeves. He was persistent, though, and in the end of just two months I gave in. But then after about three weeks, finals were coming up and I was just so busy all the time. I felt like I was being unfair to him, which made me rethink our relationship. The only thing that kept my faith was that I thought he understood my priorities. It was even because of him that I am a psychology major. He encouraged me to go after things because I want them not because my parents want them for me. I guess I was wrong to believe in fantasies, though there are no regrets in my degree choice. While I was busy building my future, he was busy frolicking with other girls. I got my heart broken for the first time. It was horrible, but nothing that time can't fix. I spent my summer teaching kids advanced classes, and before I knew it, it was the first day of senior year. My life was like a time bomb back then. College applications don't write themselves, you know. I only applied for the three best universities in the country because I know that's what everyone expects from me. Nonetheless, on top of all that, my world found time to stop and listen to my heart. I fell in love again, but this time I kept quiet about it because I thought it was just a crush and it would go away. It didn't. This time though, I knew it was a healthy obsession because there was nothing I wanted more than to come to school everyday and impress this guy as much as I can. It was a wild goose chase. I only got my mind off it because I got two out of three acceptance letters from the best universities I could ever dream of entering. Little did I know he also got his mind off me. Since then, everything went fast. It was January again, and our batch (we named ourselves Ruarcs) just won first place in the cheerdance competition again. We made history again by being the first batch ever to win a back to back championship! March came super quick. I was on the verge of tears during graduation. I just couldn't believe I'm moving to a different alma matter. I couldn't believe that Ruarcs -- all these kids I grew up with -- would just be a part of a sweet memory because we are all moving on to greener pastures. Thus, I am very very thankful that these kids, my teachers, my best friend, my first love are the ones I grew up with. I am very thankful that they made me into who I am today.

College was a roller coaster ride with extreme turns. Freshman year was a rocky start. It took me forever to catch up with the new transformative learning curriculum, trimester classes, and non-conservative, non-Filipino-Chinese culture. I was also recovering from a second heart-break, and, I met weird and annoying people, and devastatingly amazing people in my freshman block. Plus, I get to see my BFF a few times a week considering we are in the same college; nonetheless, the same course. When we gained the freedom to choose our schedules, my BFF, our new confidante and I arranged ours such that we are all in the same class all the time. I must say, we have the similar attitude of picking the easy way by avoiding the terror profs, but somehow we are magnets of horror. The three of us had been students of almost all the profs to avoid. Then again, I think it was awesome that we went through lots of trouble. I think it made me more confident of the knowledge that I have. Also, I knew that I would never be alone in any mission because I got two of my best buds with me to back me up. We went through several trials as a triad. Reports, projects, and most of all thesis. We worked everything we had to get that thesis done just the way our heaven-sent mentor liked it. He was awesome and I look up to him. He was the reason our thesis got nominated as outstanding thesis. Going back to sophomore year, the year we started our major psychology classes, I fell in love. I fell in love with psychology itself. Psychology was very empowering for me. I felt that I am getting to know the world a little better every time I learn something new from psychology. I developed this passion that made me sure of the mountain I chose to climb. I was enveloped in the world of psychology that I forgot about other facets of life, but I was perfectly happy where I was. The only thing that opened me up to the world was a smile. A smile that I first laid eyes on during my first class of junior year. He was perfect. I was captivated so easily. He made me do things I never thought I had the courage to do. He was so nice to me. I knew he was different. I was motivated more than ever to do well. I am very thankful for the all the inspiration, motivation and trials that I had to face during the three most stressful, most productive, most mind-shattering years of my life! I am thankful that they made me stronger than I already was.

In that same term, I met an amazing woman online. Actually, she is the very reason for this thank you note and the very reason for my continuing and growing love for psychology. When I met her on the night of August 27, 2010, I was only thinking about getting an amazing paper done. I never actually thought that I would have the epiphany of my life as a student, as a psychologist, or maybe even a person. She is not like any other person I have met. She is an inspiration not just to me, I assume, because she doesn't let her imperfection get in her way. I know that she must have struggled way more than I did, but there she is right now, being a person who is leaving a majestic legacy. She is the very reason for pursuing my dream to become a clinical psychologist. One that would make new discoveries and contribute even just a little to the progress of the said field. My parents may not want to support me now, but I learned not to give up because of this awesome person. I am very thankful that she came along in my life and helped me see the light. Hopefully, I get to return the favor someday.

I have met over one thousand unique and amazing individuals in my life. I have learned directly and indirectly from their awesomeness or lack thereof. However, the one person that tops everything would be the person that has been with me even before I ate real food, breathed real air, or even hear the world with my own ears -- my mom. At this point she refuses to fund my master's education, but I completely understand her. I know she wants me to see the world before I indulge myself into piles of papers again. She wants me to experience the freedom of earning my own money, and spending it the way I want to. Besides, it's not like she has not given every inch of support she could. She always knew how to make things better and easier for me, and this time I would accept her command to have me get a job before studying again even if at the back of my head the clinical psychologist in me is protesting about this detour. My mom is the best mom I could ever ask for. She may not be verbal, but her actions say everything she needs to. She worked two jobs and accepted a handful of sidelines to send me to the best college in the country. I love her and I am ultimately thankful that she has been there, still there, and will be there for me. I realize that June 25, 2011, the day of my graduation will be the day that I will start paying back everything she has done for me until she never has to work again in her entire life. I can't imagine life without her. Which is why, most of all, thank you, God for giving me a loving mother and for making everything possible. I am about to write new lines in my poetry and add images to the picture that I'm painting. Life is a big ball of crazy, but hey, someone has to live it, right?

Vintage car revamped

To the only thing that I know how to do, farewell.

I'm very nervous about this parting of ways. I never knew how to do anything but to go to school and be a student. I guess I can say I am pretty much a model student -- on the outside. I mean, everyone seems to think that I am the typical nerd who lives and breathes homework. The truth is I never really liked homework. What I love, though, is the thrill I get from learning new things because of homework. Yeah, I never do things on my own. I am kinda like an old vehicle which needs a little pumping before I run my motor on my own. I still do that from time to time, but each time someone pumps my motor, they leave something behind for me. Some left scratches on my paint job, some left permanent damage on my hood, while some left a little polish for me to shine. Sometimes I take the damages more seriously than the services. The negative thoughts would sometimes immobilize my growth. Other times, when I think about the inspiration brought about by this awesome, loving, beautiful person whom I have only met online (I know you know it's you :D), my amazing teachers, and all those who believed I can make it first place in a grand prix, and the undying love of my mom, my best friend, my aunt, and the ever-silent yet ever-present God, I feel like I am the best, most expensive car in the world. I feel like I could go for miles and miles and never tire myself out because their love is enough to keep me going. No matter what they left for me, they all did not fail to let me see that everything I do is an added bling in my rusty old body. In my nineteen years of existence and fifteen years of schooling, this vintage car just got pimped to a whole new level.

Reality

Enlighten me, please. What kind of world do we live in? Houses are several feet from the ground, the ground is covered in plastic and other wastes, waste materials are getting toxic, dangerous toxins could be bought by huge money, money could also buy love, and love... I don't even know what it is. I think I speak for humanity in the twenty first century when I say love is a complex demand to accomplish. Many goody-two-shoes out there blame us because we do not love nature, or we do not love each other, but how can they blame us? How can they call us ignorant when they are the ones ignorant from the fact that we are struggling to love anything or anyone, even ourselves, because we never really learned how to do it? Okay, so maybe it's just me. Life has been cruel to me. I only knew love from movies and fantasies. Love was so near yet so far. I feel like I was raised as if I was in the wild. Once I was old enough, I was left to fend for myself. I was four. The only comfort zone I knew was taken away from me by a tiny life form. Yes, he was cute and cuddly, but he was vicious. He'd be all cute in front of everyone, but when we were left alone he'd turn into a monster. No one believed me. I was the girl who cried wolf. I was confused. To the eyes of an innocent child, it was just too much. I cried. Crying is a defense that never failed to grab attention -- until that moment. I was left crying and I was left being blamed for making the little monster cry. It was that moment that I lost a piece of me. I lost my childhood. I never gave up on taking back what was mine. I was consistent with my efforts, and I never settled for second best, but everyone seems to be so blind. No one ever saw the light that I ignited. Later on, with each recognition I get comes a knife that cuts directly to the heart. The spark that was once so bright in my eyes became a dull shadow in the background that everyone else saw. I didn't stop looking, though. I continue to find the match that will send a fireworks display that will captivate everyone, but I can't help but die a little every time I try. I may be wounded badly, but I'm still alive. Maybe one day, all the wounds would heal. Maybe I would learn to believe in love again, or at least find out its meaning. Maybe I would love myself, maybe I would love others, but right now don't you dare call me rude or cruel because you don't know what rude or cruel is.

Rainy day

Rainy days used to make me think of home. It made me think of how I would wake up wrapped up in my blanket like a cocoon. I would push it off, run out of my room and jump up and down in my PJs as I hear that classes are canceled. I would refuse to take a shower because it was too cold, but when my friends came I would enthusiastically play in the rain with them. I would come home dripping wet. That's when mom would hand me a towel and force me into the shower. I would come out a few minutes after when I would smell hot chocolate boiling in the pot. I would grab my mug of hot choco with marshmallows and sit by the window. I would watch the tiny droplets of rain race down the glass of the window. They made me think of a beautiful tiny flower somewhere out there getting the drink of its life. My thought would be interrupted when the electricity would fluctuate or sometimes black out. My brother, sister and I would take out the seldom played board games and card games. Sometimes we would even make shadow puppets with the candlelight and the flashlight. Rainy days were happy days inside the comfort of my own home.

Then I grew up. I despised rainy days more and more. When classes were canceled, I would realize that it would be stressful to cope with schoolwork after missing a day. I couldn't wait to take a warm shower to ease the nerves. When classes weren't canceled, I would protest when I am made to walk in the flooded or muddy streets under the heavy rain that would ruin my hair or my bag or my dress. I would rather be eating ice cream somewhere sunny than sip my hot choco. I would be too busy looking for a good reception for my phone and my wifi. I don't have the time to sit around and watch stupid water fall down the ground or play pointless games when the electricity goes out. I hate it when the electricity went out. I felt like I couldn't do anything productive. Most of all, I hate it that I have to be home and miss out on the opportunities waiting for me outside.

**I regret the day that I missed out on an opportunity of a lifetime simply because of a rainy day

Monumental Changes

This day last year I was a school girl hating every single minute that passes because my precious summer vacation is slowly being taken away. Today I feel like I couldn't wait to go back to school. Too bad my life as a student is over. My life right now is a time bomb about to explode and eyes are all over the place, ready to watch me as I crash and burn. This day last year I was easily comforted of my first-school-day blues. Familiar faces and that one warm face that stood out eased my nerves. Today I think a hummingbird replaced the rhythm of my heartbeat. Everything is just going too fast for me to handle. This day last year it was all too easy. One small talk made my sun shine, made my stars twinkle, made the perfect two-part harmony. Today it's just another day. I can hear nothing but that supposed sweet echo of the past that haunts me even in my sleep. This day last year I watched a lovely scene. It was in slow motion, it was a work of art. I was shedding tears of joy. Today I wonder if I have reached the ending of that movie. I remember having reached the climax, but everything after that are just scattered pieces of memories that pierce through my heart. This day last year I was the happiest girl to welcome being nineteen years old. Surely I was nothing like a princess, but I truly felt like a queen. The whole universe compared to nothing to that single star that shines upon me. Today I dread the day that I turn twenty. I'm lost in a universe of strangers, and I feel like a slave to the dream that turned to a nightmare. This day last year, I was alive. Today I don't even know what I am.

Alone

Two kids were running around the yard one late afternoon. They have been playing like this since the dawn of time. I was a witness to this joyful moment. It was then I realized I would never be like them. I would always be this restrained party-pooper. I have always known I was born a little different. I have always known I enjoy the solemn silence of being alone, yet I crave the company of someone who could push my buttons the right way. Somehow, all that I seem to attract are those who not only pushed my buttons the wrong way but also left permanent damage in doing so. I only seem to retract more and more into my shell, becoming more and more afraid of meeting people. My worst fear is that because of these heart-aches that have caused me to hide, I may never be able to come out or even go near the wall that hides it all. I may never be able to believe in true love. After all, I have only heard of love through fairy tales and movies. How can I even believe in love when right now I feel like an abandoned kitty left on the street? I am naive and I have nowhere to go, no one to count on. I could hardly fend for myself. I am an abandoned kitty who has known the world as a cold and cruel place. I am an abandoned kitty deprived of the warmth and safety of unconditional love. However there is still something in my subconscious that tells me there is still hope for me, but there is also this sinking feeling in my chest that that hope is simply death. I have no idea whether death is a wonderful beginning or a horrible end. All I know is it is an escape from this lifetime spent alone in darkness.

Things I love which I can't do anymore

Everyone seems to be hyped up by this supposed milestone in every student's life -- graduation. I am not. I despise it. I hate the idea of leaving school and fulfilling higher expectations (sheesh, as if I do not work my ass off to fulfill very high expectations now). My parents are expecting me to have Latin Honors, the university is expecting me to do well in my career, my friends are expecting me to be successful in my job as much as I was in school. Expectations. I am so tired of them. Sometimes I wish I was the average student. Sometimes I wish I could be invisible. Honestly, being a student is all I know how to do. I love it. I love learning, I love the awards and certificates, I love all the tricks that each student has undergone. The cheating, the secret notes, the leakage, the code names and gossips, the pranks, I love them all. I love hanging out with my friends during breaks, and our biggest problem used to be where to eat. I love those stolen photographs that we would look at 20 years from now (if I make it that long), and laugh at. I love the first day of class when I would be anxious and excited to see my new professors and new classmates. I love the last day of class when I would again be anxious and excited, this time to see my grades. I would literally jump up and down when I see them (well, most of the time). I also love the last term of the school year when I would anticipate summer vacation. Ah, summer! Bumming and chilling at home! I love getting my allowance once a week, and when I run short on budget, I could always ask for a raise. This list could go on and on, but I think it all boils down to one point. Being a student is easy peasy. There are so many things to love on top of the few horrible things, and for those horrible things, there is always a compromise like giving a code name to a bad teacher or teaming up with your friends during a difficult exam (gosh, I'm so bad!). Hence, these, these are the things the cold, harsh real world would take away from me. They would always be in my memory, but they would never come to life again. The worst part? I am done lying on a bed of sweet-smelling roses. I am about to climb a mountain of responsibilities and expectations, and I am on my own.

String

The string was thick and golden. I was mesmerized. I ran my finger through the silky line. It was delicate, it was fragile. I held it in my hand, guarding it against hoarders. It shall not be coveted as it shall be mine forever. I put it safely inside my pocket, keeping it from the rest of the world. One day I took it out, it is not as silky anymore. The string got crumpled and I decided to straighten it. As I did, a knot was formed at the middle. I tried to loosen the knot. As I pull one end of the string, the knot became tighter. I have no choice but to cut it to set it free. Now, as I have come to realize, the once notable string is just a crumpled worn-out piece of junk.