Filipinos are clean people, they wash their bread with water.

Today we had our first duty in a mental institution in Cabugao Ilocos Sur. The moment i heard about this news, the images from wrong turn IV flashed in my head. I was damn scared.  The meeting time was jeopardized because of the fact that Filipinos have their own time.  The CI kind of criticized me AGAIN ( I'm getting the feeling that she doesnt like me that much , oh well the feeling is fucking mutual. Yes I said that word again, so beat it). The experience was fine but not that remarkable. A line is now drawn between the terms defense mechanism and coping mechanism.  I don't normally write detailed posts about my learning experiences because let's face it , studying can get flat.  But it seems fitting to write this because it's a leap none the less. Sometimes we have to fake it to make it (Carrie Diaries) . I had to fake being interested in my patient's life so I could put something in that NPI requirement. I know, i know!!  it's terrible, I'm terrible. It's my job to explore things, to make people who can't verbalize feelings be able to but most of the time I just don't care. I'm trying to care for others but one thing i'm sure about myself is that i'm an island, not a continent. 

PATCH CIPRIANO.

While my classmates fall for campus guys, while my aunts complain about their husbands, while fans fawn over actors I lust for HIM : 

PATCH CIPRIANO.

Well that's no old news, I'm more in touch with fantasy than in reality. We all have our image of Patch in our heads but the world sees him as Drew Doyon. Honestly, he's not the Patch I pictured in my head, but close enough. Remember my first post about HUsh Hush saying that I'd read the next three books in hard copy. I slipped, I have read Crescendo before classes resumed and I'm nearly loosing my control to read Silence. December seems too far away, a mate of mine agreed that we'd have another book hunting next month. So Patch and Nora will have to wait till Christmas. He's the definition of danger , but what did LiL say in Parker Gray show? you need to let go of bad so the good karma would come to you. I am freaking attracted to his darkness. I want it to eat me. To consume me. To drown me. To let me fall. I want danger !!!  I want my path to burn like hell...

Other guys of fiction that I wish existed in my own so-called life :

Jace Lightwood from Mortal Instruments

Simon Lewis from Mortal Instruments

Peeta Mellark from Hunger Games 

Dave the laugh from Confessions of Georgia Nicolson

Fred and George Weasley from Harry Potter

Rodrick Heffley from Diary of a Wimpy Kid 

Jason from How To Be Popular 

There is a difference

I hate half of the people I know.  There are two ways to look at life, and I always find myself looking at it half empty. It would be so anti-social of me to say I don’t really fancy human company then again that’s the way it is. But hey! I’m just selectively social.  There’s a difference.  She said it like she knows me , maybe because we went through high school together but I have always reduced her into a stereotype, general not remarkable enough to individualize. She knows nothing about how I live my life and hers is entirely irrelevant. But because she’s a huge blabber mouth. Her words and stories penetrate my universe and I am forced to hear how pathetic she is. An attention whore who always have a ready smile across her face as if tomorrow may never come. I don’t hate her because she’s always happy, individual differences, I totally get it.   I hate her because she keeps including me, and I don’t want in. I wish I could slap those words to her face, fighting has always  been the show I never tried to visit. But I’ll let myself star in one if I’ll loose my temper. She needs to be hurt with words, and if it doesn’t hurt her. It will kill her. Words kill me at times, like they’re my Achilles heel.  But they often rebirth me and right now they still keep me breathing.   It is  both  poison and  antidote. 

Dirty Little Secret

Dirty Little secret By all-American rejects

.Some are mine, some are not.

It's for me to know.
And
Yours to figure out.
So what's your SEcret?

 

Take a bow: i'm watching you

TAKE A BOW              by FranKo

You spend a lot of time
convincing people that you're happy inside,
But I see through
Yeah, I see through the lies
You're wearing your disguise
And everyone's just doing what you do

Picture perfect faces,
Convincingly done,
They're out to catch a yellow bellied, red blooded, lady with a shotgun,
Point it at your followers and run
Well you got it all wrong!

Take a bow
They're watching you
Why and how
I'll never know
You

Strike a pose and make it pretty,
slide the note under the door
Just sit back, enjoy the view
He'll drag you to the ground
When nobody's around
And take a sign to turn you black and blue

Picture perfect faces,
Convincingly done,
They're out to catch a yellow bellied, red blooded, lady with a shotgun,
Point it at your followers and runWell you got it all wrong! 

I was born without a voice and I've been living in deafening silence since. But that degree of silence is my background track, it's my habitat , it is what i exist for. So I opted for what my sight  readily suggests and what are whispered in my ears. I learned to watch and listen.

This week our PI teacher gave us an activity, he handed each of us a paper. The front has a drawing and at the back a number is written. He instructed us to draw the front in a 1/4 oslo paper. These papers were puzzle pieces. When he completed the puzzle, it showed an image of Jose Rizal. The puzzle looked funny. We used different coloring mediums, different strokes, different shades. But if you take a few( or maybe a lot) of steps back, it shows it’s beauty. He explained that the differences of the puzzle pieces reflects our individuality. We have distinct point of views and we look at things from different angles. We may have the same eye structures and look at the same things but we, ourselves apply the difference. Who can see the real image? After each lecture, he delivers some kind of a pep talk. The topics are mostly random. He encourages us to write, to be skeptical and even to bend the rules. But this time, he talked about the cliché “ Being You””. He said that each of us are good persons, not better not best, we need not to compare ourselves. In comparing ourselves against other people, we gradually destroy our unique selves. 
Our humanities professor isn’t as talkative as Mr. PI. He’s the kind that you may listen too and say “” He’s so gorgeous it hurts”” ( Emily from LOL) and then you chose not to because he’s getting too factual, too boring. Wait, I’m exaggerating , he’s not that boring and he’s not that gorgeous either, but he can turn heads ( we needn’t to turn because there’s plenty of him to see up front). There are moments, when he clears the vagueness of reality and his words are literally being engraved in my memory. That day, he talked about racial discrimination in conjunction with our report on Tribal Scars , an African Literature. I thought we were created equal. That no matter what blood flows in your veins, no matter what shade of color your eyes are, even if you’re a blinding blonde, a redhead , a brunette or black haired, no matter if your skin is faded and pale , brown or dark we are just plain humans , no more and definitely not less. Racial discrimination is too big of a deal to ignore. Anger suddenly combusted within me. 
Listening to speakers is one of my infinite weakness. I don’t understand how they do it, How they can talk to the crowd without undergoing diaphoresis, dysrythmias and loss of consciousness. “” Don’t hate what you don’t understand " they say, I don’t. That’s just for math, something I hate because of lack of understanding ( it’s my biggest MATHMARE””. )
When my mind drifts, a speaker is born. But she’s afraid. She cant come out, her feet is tangled by vines. A massive hand is pressing against her mouth suffocating her. Then she gives up. She remains hidden. She watches and listens. So take a bow she’s watching you.