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Location: Philippines

Still figuring myself out...
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My Loneliness Is Killing Me


Hit Me Baby One More Time - Britney Spears

I don't even know if I got the title and the spelling of the artist correctly.
I'm so lonelyyy. :(

Hahaha. I have no freakin' social life. I feel...uninteresting. HAHAHA. Wth.
I'm emo. :))

I'm listening to Band of Horses' song, Factory.

The elevator in the hotel lobby has a lazy door
The man inside is going to a hotel room
He jumped out right after seeing just the very sight of me
Decided he better hike it to the second floor

It's temporary, this place I'm in
I permanently won't do this again

My belongings scattered all across the hotel floor

An hour later I was thinking it over by the snack machine
I thought about you and a candy bar
An hour later melon gum stuck between my teeth
I fell asleep to the greatest movie of the year

It gets lonely for heavens sake
Was wondering only what did you do today
The world is spinning round to an old sad love song

It's coming down outside like I've never even seen before
I fell into some kind of sorry state
But looking back now I think it's finally time for me to laugh about it
Get my things together and find something to say

Well I feel awful and I believe that time gets wasted in this misery
And darling I don't ever wanna come back home

Tuning My Emotions


(currently: playlist)

Hi. :)
There are too many interesting stuff on the internet, don't you think?
I think I could spend more than 24 hours, burning my butt on this plastic seat, soaking myself with fashion, culture, photography, and music -even while updating my social life!- and not regret it.

I love the internet!

A School Visit, A Wistful Walk


I walk past the hallway of the high school cafeteria; past the counter with granite tiles that used to hold our lunch food, even recess, and dismissal snacks. I walk past long aisle of wooden tables with wooden chair. The hallway seems endless but I reach the corner just in time. I turn to my right. A familiar brown gate greets me. Behind it are the Chem and Bio laboratories, dimmed. No lights are turned on.
I turn to my left and walk past these two rooms.
I almost reach the end when a cat walked by, purring and making cat sounds.
"Meow," it said.
It was the only sound that could be heard except for my muffled footsteps and the pitter-patter of water overflowing 3 floors above. (Did someone leave the tap open and forgot to close it? It's so ironic to see water being wasted within the premises of my old school.)

My old school.

I feel a pang of wistfulness rise within me like a bubble about to burst but, I repress it.

I give the room to my right a quick glance.
Both the room's doors are closed.
One always used to be open during the school year.
But the school year has ended.

I see the back of a teacher sitting inside. And an electric fan.
I don't know what made me do it but, I shy away. Fearing to be seen inside the school that used to be mine.

I turn to my left and climb the stairs.
Too eager.

I reach the top of the first flight.
OHMYGOSH. It's my classroom. It's their classroom.
It's our lockerS!
I briskly walk towards the one labeled 26.
That pink rectangular door. How I seldom opened it.
It never even got to relish the taste of a rusty padlock.
I open it impulsively.
It's empty!
Ohmygosh. They took away all my things!
My leftovers, they're all gone!
(But what was I expecting?)

But they were trash. I made them clean up after the mess I left.
How shameful.

But the last time I checked, it wasn't empty. It had a carton box which once contained scraps of paper that held bundles of our legacy tickets together, some pairs of scissors, and a few colored paper clips.
I think I even left a couple of handouts for an absent classmate.

Now, the four walls of my locker is a spotless white, glaring at me; forcing its emptiness onto my face.
I shut the little pink door.

I look to my left.
Our class adviser's room.

It's door is shut. It's clean. It's empty.
No stack of paper on top of the cabinets to the right; no calendar pages on top of the desk...
Across me is our classroom.
I sneak a peek but the temptation is too hard to resist.

I had to go in.

So I did.

I feel claustrophobic.
It's so clean.
It's TOO clean.
Choke. Choke. Choke.

Where's the stash of clothing piling up to the left side of our now wiped clean blackboard?
Where are the smudged chalk writings on the blackboard which were traces of what were once written there and seemed impossible to erase?
Where's the chalk dust threatening to fill up the brown ledge drawers?!
Where's the countless Body Shop paper bags underneath the chalk ledge?
Where's the mess of the brown envelope crowded with missed LPs, activity sheets, quiz papers, and written reports (that I failed to distribute) on top of the teacher's table?
And, where's the brown cardboard box which no one ever admitted was hers but was filled with unclaimed PE shirts, "Iduyan Mo" costumes, and sheets and sheets of paper? Perhaps even books?

What's happened to our classroom?

I try to look around for whatever signs that we've once lived inside, within those 4 walls "with windows inside".

The cork board near the entrance and exit door is stipped naked.
How about the one near the blackboard?

I breathe out.
There are still bits and pieces there and I WANTED TO TAKE THEM OUT AND KEEP THEM WITH ME but, they looked too precious for that.
They're part of the classroom, I know that. I felt that.
I resist the urge to take down the strips of paper; those pieces of art created by no other than our class's Creative Committee.
The rules to be followed which never completely were is stapled there.
The "Class Schedule" with the casette tape drawing is there too while the real class schedule never really found its way to that board.
-Even during the school year.

I check the cabinets behind the blackboard.
Both are empty, except for the left one near the corkboard which is keeping a big bottle of Jergens lotion in tact.
(I wonder who owns that?)

I turn around.
The room is clean! Have I said that?
It wasn't a dream.
It wasn't a hallucination.
It wasn't my eyes playing tricks on me.
The armchairs are aligned properly; the floor are swept; the cabinets, the tables, the ledge, they're all empty.
Our room is clean!

I look up to the improvised "altar" on top of the blackbaord. Mama Mary's still there; praying over the next users of the room, I bet. Hopefully, even the previous ones.
Next to her statue is...our class candle!
OHMYGOSH. Can I at least take that home please? (The thought ran through my head quicker than a blink of an eye and it was screaming at me.)
It belongs to IsaOne truly.
It was handed over to me by Fr. Edwin himself, no Ms. Raquitico pala (my memory is failing me), during our retreat!
Can I at least keep that??
We'll light it up during our future class reunions and...
that candles is ours!
I wanted to take it.
I had a very strong urge to take it.

But the "small" inside me squirmed, "Wouldn't that be stealing?"
But it's our class candle.
The "big" inside me said, "Well, let's ask authority."
The image of our class adviser fly to my mind.

I go out of the room and walk up to hallway's end. Eager to find our motherly class adviser to ask permission.
I walk the complete length of the hallway but just had to stop by the announcement board across the room where we used to have our daily morning prayers.

It still has the "Congratulations" greeting of the sisters for our successful legacy.
It still has the list of the girls who signed up for their godparents-to-be for our Commissioning.
It still has these news/magazine articles that I never really read nor glanced at until now.
I rush down the flight of stairs, full of emotion, eager to write it all down.

So here it is, IsaOne.
I miss you all.
And our school too.

P.S. That class canlde I was talking about? I asked permission from Ms. Marah and took it home with me. It was too precious to leave behind because I know it is rightfully ours. And ours alone.
So, next time we meet again, just tell me ok?
I could bring the candle along and we could light it up together, yeah?

I love you IsaOne.

Your dear classmate and friend,

You Can't Make Up Your Mind, Mind, Mind, Mind, Mind


Eenie Meenie - Sean Kingston ft. Justin Bieber

This song is just so catchy!

I'm still missing you, my dear blog.
I have no proper audience in tumblr. Lol.
Not that I have any here but, well. With blogger, there's no expectations. At least, from me there isn't any. *grins*

"Stop calling, stop calling."
Telephone - Lady Gaga



To my dear online journal,

I have ignored and neglected you for the past asdfghjkl weeks and I honestly am sorry.
Tumblr have provided a hub for me to post countless inspirational photos and I just couldn't resist it though I have very few followers.

But see, tumblr's just a "photo hub" for me. Something like a portfolio.
The rest, specifically my writing is saved up solely for you my dear blog.

A lot has happened since I last posted.
I've watched a number of movies online, read a few more books (actually just one -Flowers for Algernon), finished the Vampire Diaries series, got myself registered in my future school, went to some of my friends' 18th birthday celebrations, watched a few more movies, watched the first episode of Skins season 4 but got too lazy to watch the rest, created a tumblr account (I am not turning my back on you though so don't worry), wrote quite a number of messages to my dear friends on Facebook, added some songs to my mixpod playlists, doodled and scribbled on my planner, created a bunch of new looks in my Looklet account, faithfully watched the latest episodes of Glee ever since it's 13th episode aired on global television, had Total Eclipse of the Heart Glee version as my LSS for days, HAD A HAIRCUT (last May 7, 2010), rewatched the episodes of a previous childhood anime series Cardcaptor Sakura!, ogled at major dream boys at this website...


So I have to log out right now.
And make out whatever outfit I can with the things God blessed me with.

I'll catch up with you again next time!

With lots of love and panicky jitters,

Nowhere Boy


I just watched this movie.
Really good one.
I love the plot and how the actors acted. ;)

Aaron Johnson, you made me love you in this movie.
You can act and sing.

Past 2a.m of 2 Days Ago

Past 2 a.m.

I watched an Irish movie earlier this a.m. -around 1a.m. to be exact- entitled, Kisses.

Magical movie. Magical.

Just like sincere kisses, I guess.
How they feel...

Just like how that first kiss should feel.

I loved the movie because it was innocent, whimsical, honest, and simple.

I also love the symbolism of the colors of the movie.
How it started out in black and white, and then transitioned into a dull-shades-of-colors phase, and finally, into a full color perspective.
It returns to black and white though.
But you just know that somehow, something has changed within the protagonists.
That inside, they're still full of color.

So the story is about two young friends -around of 12 or 13. A boy, and a girl. Their family lives are "bleak", violent for the boy, unhappy for both. So, one day, they runaway after Kylie (the girl) finds a stash of money inside a shoe which is under the double deck bed where she is hiding from either her brother or father.

Dylan (the boy) decides to hit his father back when his father inflicts physical violence upon his mom and him. He hits him with this gameboy gadget he's playing with and actually wounds his father's left temple. His father chases after him immediately. Kylie, meanwhile, "hearing the neighbors", rescues Dylan who locks himself up in the washroom.

They runaway afterwards.
Just for a night

But, it was one hell of a night.
t was a night of both the "nice and the nasty" -to quote a review I read- but it was magnificent nonetheless.

Dylan's kiss on Kylie's cheek in the latter part of the movie was the best.
Their kiss was perfect.
It was innocent and well meant.

And altogether, their relationship was simple.
But you know it runs deep -that words need not explain it; just actions are enough.

Beautiful movie. Sweet and magical -but not overtly sweet.
Just the right amount of feel good movie that leaves a smile lingering across your face even after you've watched it.

P.S.P.P.S. Their Irish accent was extremely difficult to understand without the subtitles. Understanding their conversations was a failure for me but, though I only comprehended like, 1/3 of their conversations, you'd understand the movie enough to learn to love it.