So They Call This Self Awareness?

It’s more like exposing yourself to pass through a phase in your life that you have long forgotten and kept sealed. Resulting to tears that are supposed to be invisible to a mundane naked eye.  But once they flow, they recognizes no end even when the stimulus is gone, the effect remains. 

For NSG RLE  105, we had to undergo a self awareness activity.  Earlier in that day saw classmates of mine crying(as in?) I scanned my composition and saw nothing sensitive enough to stir my emotions so I entered that white room wishing it would be over soon. Men really are tough , they were the only ones who remained untouched, everyone who had the chance to speak cried. Including me. Normally I wouldn’t enter my double broken family but I cant think of a sad phase in my life so I might as well throw it out in the open. I thought after years of
casually sharing it to others, i developed some sort of immunity to tears but damn it! I hate it when drama catches up in real life. I was bombarded with questions like: do you want to meet him, do you know his name, where he lives, have you asked your mother, have you thought of finding him, try the COMELEC. I was like , enough! I can’t speak while crying.I haven’t learned anything new except the sufferings of my fellow group mates. The instructor was going on about how my lack of formal family affected my low self esteem, saying that I should let go of my baggage so I could relate to people. I don’t carry that with me, I only remember it when I see a perfect family, it‘s not even with me, it‘s in the back of my closet eating dust, I don’t talk and smile much because it’s natural , I was born with it. She commented that I should be open. I like myself , why should I change? Why do introverts have to become extroverts in the end of a movie? Do you see a film vice versa? IDTS. It’s not fair. 

November 1 : Journal in NSG 105

Trick or treat?

Treat is a definite no.  I’ve got tons of that to last a lifetime.. I try to control myself to indulge in one, but I always crave what I cant have, which is just as ironic as life.  I could use some trick, I think people take me too seriously , they always believe what I say , I often fail to crack  jokes and they often don’t figure out that what I said is a fat lie until I confess, which I seldom do. I wish Halloween would dominate this city for once, I would like to dress up as a witch, answer the door to give kids some candies and experience being scared to hell. Unluckily, this is a recessive tradition, it doesn’t seem to appear in the Ilocano culture.  We went to the cemetery early, which isn’t often because we always do it @ Nov. 2 in the afternoon, when the sun feels sleepy and ready to snooze . I guess it’s because  my folks are trying to avoid some relatives of ours due to some misunderstanding about an issue that I wouldn’t want to write down here. I don’t know if painting tombs is significant enough to make the cut but I’m writing it anyway. I was the youngest among them so I had to listen while they speak. They talked about death, buying a land in another cemetery, they even talked about how and where they would want their graves to be buried. The idea of death used to scare the hell out of me. Before dying, finishing my businesses would be my goal, you wouldn’t want to end up as a ghost with unfinished business would you? ( that was a joke, did I fail to crack it?) But life and death is both unexpected so maybe I’d really end up as a ghost at the rate that I’m going right now. I once had a chat with someone and the conversation was about suicide, I was in high school and death didn’t seem to be a miserable occurrence but he said he’ never thought about it even though his life is at a poetic pacing. He said that when you die, you don’t die alone. That quote kind of got stuck in my head, I’m such a sucker for words of wisdom. I don’t know if he failed to acknowledge where he got that from or if  he invented that himself.  When I die would I be cremated or buried to the ground?  Cremation is trending right now but here the traditional way is still prevailing. Will cremation oust the traditional way? Maybe through time. So fire of worms? Tough choice! Fire would eat my body to ashes, worms would… I cant even write it without images flashing in my head. I’ guess I will leave that decision to whoever would be left. Isn’t that what we are supposed to do? Let go and take charge of the people who had to pass away? 

HUsh Hush by Becca Fitzpatrick

Last week I posted four books that I’m assigning myself to indulged into during the sem break. I’m done with fracture, diary of a crush and I just finished hush hush last night. I wasn’t so impressed with the first two  but hey third time really is the charm . Hush hush  redefines YA love. 

Nora’s mundane life ended when her new biology partner crashed beside her. Patch.  His eyes sparked trouble, his smile meant danger and his body called for desire. Everything about him is a silhouetted menace. She tried to stay away but gravity pulled her, before she knew it she was falling. But Patch fell first. From heaven. 

I read this not knowing that it belongs to a series. Reading one book requires completion of the collection and I’m itching for the next books already. I read Hush hush on screen and I’m not planning to continue reading them that way, I have to flip pages, smell it’s addicting scent and be able to lock it into my embrace.  I found this accidentally while watching random book trailers. I saw Nora and Patch as the top fiction couple and I thought I might as well give it a try. I remember a mate of mine recommending Fallen by Lauren Kate, maybe the reason why I hadn’t taken that book was because Becca Fitzpatrick is the voice I was meant to hear ( I have nothing against Fallen FYI). 

Looking for in HUsh hush , Crescendo , Silence , finale pdf ? 

email me. 

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. 

entertainment only.

The 1st semester is rolling the credits and i am left with time to waste. What would I use all those time for? Sleeping. Forever, if possible. I used to say, sleeping it off is a complete waste, you can get enough of that  once you're 12 feet beneath the ground, but now, I'm literally swallowing my words. 

I pledged read the books:

Fracture by Megan Miranda Catching Jordan by Miranda Keneally

 HUsh hush by Becca Fitzpatrick Diary of a crush by Sara Manning

 

 But I've never read one of them. I did spend my time in front of the monitor. Watching:

La Belle Personne

 

It's  French, I got interested in French films after watching LOL. It's a story about satiated desires. How it consumes you till you realize it's a sin. How you try to get back on track and fail. Juni,  transferred due to the death of her mother. All eyes were on hers. She possessed fragile beauty that somehow needed to be sheltered. But they didn't know what she needed, she didn't know it herself. And when she finally figured it out, death payed a visit and she had to ran away again.

 Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter

  

How would you convince people of an unreal story? Back it up with some history. I didnt care who Abe was, where he stands in the civil war, how he died, why he ran or how he got where he was in the first place. After all, he was not our president so why bother reading about him? But that is what i did after watching this: scanned his bio. 

Privileged ( series)

Megan Smith is a writer who found her self tutoring filthy rich kids just before she dyed her hair red. This wasn't part of the plan, she was supposed to get herself a column of her own and write about people who matters. Instead she took a private plane, stayed in a huge mansion, re-united with her best friend, became a neighbor of a hot billionaire and be continuously pestered by evil Baker twins while convincing them to flip the pages of the "Great Gatsby".

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?

 

Breathing for 19 years

It took me awhile to write this post. Another turning point of my life has bloomed yet words spoken or not fail to escape my mouth. I’m afraid. Afraid that even after another year of knowing things, I still not know enough to make sense of what this year has been all about. I am scared that I have not changed a bit, that I have not made the move to make reality out of this phantasm. I want to place you in the spot on how my 19 th year on earth unfolded. I cannot guarantee that it had been remarkable , for I do not allow myself to feel things that belong to the extremes. But this is not about if I was happy or gloomy, not also about if it was worth remembering or not. It’s about a step to the maturational loss that has finally caught up with me. I woke up with the sound of Taylor Swift’s “” We are never ever getting back together””, playing in the background. I like the old Taylor, country and all, this song is redirecting her to a new genre. Risks what makes life exciting and I wish I could just risk everything for something. I’m old, was the voice I heard as my eyelids slowly entertained the first light of my 19th year. First light, if I snoozed back to sleep would It make a difference? If I snoozed back would It delay my impending age? The first move I took was to look at the mirror across the room. The figure that stared back seemed exactly the same as the day before, on my last day as an 18 year-old. I still had the same depressing hair that I cut short out of a sudden urge to steer away from my safe side. My head touched the same air and my body still occupied the same space. There’s got to be something different, this too shall pass. When I was satisfied that the impending change may come later, I opened the computer to accomplish the task that I thought would make this day universal. I’m a fan girl, I’m not a proud of it but It’s something that I cant help myself to be. People crave what they cant have and it’s a guilty pleasure of mine since I realized what my soul desires. I sent them a message requesting for a greeting. The expectation to the unexpected is so narrowly defined that choosing what to expect or what not to expect just all together had a deteriorating effect. The them I’m referring to is this alternative rock band called FranKo that I’ve been living for, for the past few weeks. My chance of seeing them perform live is almost extinct due to the distance that interferes with my desire to be contained in the same room that they occupy, to inhale the same oxygen and exhale the same carbon dioxide, to see a history being played out, to be in one moment in that life time and many more endless stalker-ish idea. I went to school, with a lurking idea of fun since this held a promise of excitement because we just had to perform an activity instead of a written exam for our finals in P.I. It involved water in bottles. The activity was suppose to tell us whether or not to preserve history. That little by little the past is too rapidly forgotten that we neglect that it’s eminent. I asked myself do I preserve history ? Do I have to? Somebody else can do it right? I don’t have the answers yet, someone told me something about this bonded words , no answer is wrong there are just wrong questions. Then we had a mini play on Humanities, and I am glad that I found the right place for my foot, the backstage. I know a lot of people might think that it’s depressing. That it’s a station for losers who possess fears unknown by many but I breathe it, it’s my sanctuary. Lao Tzu’s theory of action through inaction. I didn’t need to speak, other says it for me and it is delivered beyond, It has penetrated walls while my mouth stayed shut. 
In the afternoon I visited a new bookstore. My Utopia has found me  and I am ready as hell to dominate it. Books are my secret friends, my hidden family , my delusional companions and we all thrive in a private community. I went there with a mate who is also turning 19 in a week. Our eyes catches the same things and at that  time we realized we have this common pursuit for thrill. We might have done what needed to be done. We headed home with laughter’s and secret we vowed never to tell. Does it make me a detached member of a family if I say I don’t really fancy eating out with my folks? Because that is how this day ended, I‘m the youngest and their conversations isolated me. Old people possess the wisdom that the young may never come to understand, but I guess that is the framework of life, we may learn the same things but we understand it differently. And that is why the young and the old don’t always meet. That is why we don’t like something every time. That is why we are unstable. If we were, we are so stuck.