This post has nothing to do with the song "It will rain" by Bruno Mars except that while this was being written it is the only sound that I allowed my ears to listen to.

AM.... 01/ 12/12

So why am I freaking out?
So why the hell am I freaking out? Because I bowed down so I wont get noticed . SO why am I freaking out?  because I didn’t care if he was there but he waited for me to look up so that he would smile and force a sheepish smile out of me. So why the hell am I freaking out? Because I wasn’t suppose to be giggly about it, im suppose to act like it didn’t happen because that encounter is solely negligible. So why the hell am I freaking out? Because he wasn’t suppose to know that I existed. I was suppose to live like I don’t exist like im not part of the human race but the thing is he knew. So why am I freaking out? Because I forgot that I once found him fetching. So why am I freaking out? Because Im freaking flattered and it’ s so rated 13 and im supposed to act like im 18 because im 18>>>this isn’t supposed to be happening to me, to someone whose 18 because this reaction is for 13 years olds only, whose undergoing puberty and not to some 18 year old because im supposed to be adult about it, civilized about it. Being naive should have been out of the list but it’s the only thing that’s occupying it>>>>freaking 18... 


AM 01/13/12
Friday the 13nth

The disastrous thing about expectations is finding out that you were wrong. That every stare that you assumed that were intended for you were just plain looks. That every encounter you thought destiny planned were just coincidence. That every time your heart skipped a beat were nothing but misconceptions. Every unnecessary behavior you stupidly made is just how fate wanted you to make a fool out of your damn self. With you thinking that you found have found LJ Smith’s silver cord to entwine with one other person , only to find out that nobody is at the end to hold it for you. That everything were just wasted efforts, frantic smiles, melting discomforts, that bulk in your esophagus that you cant seem to swallow, that make-believe eye that watches you, all of which are just part of a big whim. An impulse that should have been erased rather than treasured. This is when you realize that imagination brings you agony not awareness. Distress not remedy. 

Im TYpe A

Your Inner Blood Type is Type A

You seem cool and collected, though a bit shy. You are highly driven and a perfectionist, but that's a side you keep to yourself. Creative and artistic, you are a very unique person who doesn't quite fit in. People accept you more than you realize, seeing you as trustworthy and loyal. You are most compatible with: A and AB Famous Type A's: Britney Spears and Hilter

What's Your Inner Blood Type?

The First Rule of Blogthings Is: You Don't Talk About Blogthings

Hey!!! Happy new year\


Before 2011 bid me goodbye I had one wish granted. I became a witch or played at being one rather ( Torrance in Jinx anyone?) My fascination at witches dates back in the days of 13 yr- old Harry in the third book and I’ve been hooked under their spells ever since. 



 Things I did before mid-night struck..

I have finished watching a Korean drama heartstrings, well my usual reaction .. Completely swept off the ground, what’s cheesier than that? If unrealistically silly romance didn’t exist, I’d trade El-Oh-vi-e for a life long supply of fictions.


I uploaded another vid . I’m no expert and my humble creations are pure labor of el-oh-vi-e. 

I have added a new hunk in my hottie list : chris evans  he is the perfect combination of incredibly hot and ridiculously funny at the same time ( tnx to Mr. weiver). 

According to the Mayan predictions the world will end this year. My first thought: It's unfair, I just began to dwell in the world of adulthood and here comes the judgement day. I havent done things to leave a trace of my existence, I haven't done enough to show my affection to my loved ones and I havent experience empowering desires. 
@ world's end, images of my mom and my sisters appear in head , seeing them suffer before you while your incapable of helping them seems like a scene I could never live through. Dying has always been a concept that I apply only to myself, it seems easier to die before the others not because you surrender but because dying physically gives you lighter pain than dying emotionally. In physical death, your body is damaged and before you know your gone. In dying with your emotion and soul...... the sky crashes, water downs you, breathing air isnt sufficient , darkness swallows you alive , you are deprived of your will to exist, every single suffering presents itself to you like you have been born to die and die and die. 

Re-cap

 I was born with a complicated and tangled as a sycamore tree family structure. My biological dad never shadowed in my life. My biological mom remarried so I was practically sent out for adoption . I always considered that word as dirty. And I’m pretty  much deprived of any overrated talent . As the clock continues Its clockwise ticking, my mouth always remained zipped and I masked myself with a blank face. I’m a self-proclaimed movie fanatic or should that be lunatic. I have this theory that pertains to my nonexistence. That I am just born to play a part in someone else’s life that’s why I feel kind of suspended in the realm of reality. That there is no certain plan of how my destiny is going to be played. Or is it just because I feel so lost? that the only road that I barely see is what the elders had directed me to travel. Im not compassionate, and I hate myself for it. Generally I couldn’t care less of other people’s wellness as much as I want to and have to, but I’m in the process of reconsidering because it‘s kind of mandatory. My favorite word is cliche since someone whom doesn’t know me mutually, practically slapped that to my face of which I’m glad he did when I was 17(which certainly isn’t ancient enough to be pushed behind the closet) . I have spent my teen aged years in solitary confinement both by choice and by force. I’m trapped in the world of vampires, wolves, witches , wizards, goblins and other mystical creatures that are bound to be found within a fiction book. My favorite mystic characters of course are witches and wizards. “ Earth and water protect me, air and fire bring my desire”. My dream mystic ability is to be able to fly, nothing like the wind brushing beneath my feet.  As childish as it may seem I’m a real sucker for  spaghetti and chocolates and I’m terribly petrified by snakes. I daydream a lot, probably because of the said theory earlier, by trying to picture yourself in a landscape to make the whole greater than the sum of its parts (muddy!!). My newest hero is LJ Smith, and I wish to dwell in her Night world and find that quixotic silver cord at last.  Coffee slips to my body for the first hour of every day and I kiss coffee good night before I float in the endless horizons and be completely consumed by darkness and be absorbed by the stillness of the nocturnal atmosphere. Reality bites, If I could, I’d rather stay printed In the pages of a hard-covered mind blowing fiction but I’m merely a full blooded , hundred percent muggle. Supernatural may have skipped me 

physically but it is still drifting in my veins unnoticed for now, but something scarce would be initiated eventually of that I’m certain. I just got out from the country of Panem, from the Hunger games imagined by Suzzane Collins. I felt how my whole body got licked and burned by fire through Katniss Everdeen. How my wings that stands for rebellion got smothered by the bomb Gale and Beete might have made not for me but for Snow’s people. I felt how my feet got sweep off because of Peeta’s powerful words and the brightness of his blue eyes. But I couldn’t be because I am not Katniss, the hunter, the girl from the Seams , the Mockingjay, Collins isn’t the writer of my story. I evolve into a parasite every time I indulge and take a plunge into an impossible tale. Like everything about this wretched girl is lost and all that is left is the ruins of a brain to be au fait with and a heart to stir emotions. I dissolve into the thin air but it happens so quietly that it leaves me undisturbed, so still that it’s as if I keep on listening to a story teller that breathes only to narrate to me. Im a typical suffer in silence type, though I do not entirely think that silence is equivalent to suffering. It s more like a blanket that warms you against the colds shoulders of societal discrimination and utmost cruelness.

DAY DreAm...

YOU’RE MY DAY DREAM

I COULD HAVE BEEN THE One you noticed
I could have been all over you
I could have been like all the others
It’s that what im supposed to do

This post isn’t solely about THOSE dudes that I fancy. Or on the things that I hope I had but sadly I don’t. it’s a combination of both.
I day dream a lot. Its kind of my pass time, like a forced habit
that I have to continue doing to somehow call THIS a life. They make me sleep when my insomnia decides to kick in. Or when I see an empty space that needs to be filled with anything invisible to others but bold in my light brown eyes.

I daydream about meeting my father who would offer me a more luxurious life.
I daydream about a celebrity who would find me and chooses me over his career.
I daydream about a musician who would compose a song for me because words are just not enough to verbalize his affection.
I daydream about falling in love with a half brother and we’d separate with broken hearts.
I daydream about living in a room filled with millions of book that I am tasked to read in one lifetime.
I daydream about publishing a novel that would let  the reader see the world through my writings.
I daydream about being a witch to let earth, water air and fire bring my desires.
I daydream about driving to see the New York sky line.
I daydream about directing a movie that a viewer wouldn’t get tired of watching.
I daydream about surfing waves in Manly beach ( w/o sharks pls).
I daydream about entering a different world as an adventurer or a sorcerer or an oracle.
I daydream of meeting my twin so that we could exchange life just for pure amusement.
I daydream about wearing a spooky costume to scare people.
I daydream about becoming one of those kids who seem to behave like they’re too cool for school.

The thing about daydreaming is that everything is within your control, nothing could go wrong and all works on your favor. Sometimes I even consider me-self as a lunatic when I begin to thrive in THAT World rather than this. Finding that someone else who does same thing as I do saved me from that assumption.

WHAT DO you daydream about?...

SECRET CIRCLE

The Secret Circle

Cassie Blake labeled herself as a shy daydreamer, possessing nothing to brag but her ordinary self. But all that changed as she learned that she is a part of a coven of witches in NEW SALEM and they need her to bInd their circle.

Adam Conant, whose eyes were blue-gray, like the mysterious sea. His odd face, not conventionally handsome but arresting and intriguing with high cheekbones and determined mouth. Proud and independent and humorous and sensitive all at once. (excerpt from the initiation)

When Cassie saw him for the second time, she saw a silver cord that linked their bodies. He gave her a chalcedony rose. Adam saw the cord too but neither knew that it didn’t just linked their bodies but their souls too. Isn’t that quixotic ? Knowing that you both had connections on the surface but underneath destiny has already bounded you in that lifetime .

A drop of water as light as air. Nature kept pushing them, their powers magnetizing them. But they took an oath.
"Fire, Air, Earth, Water listen and witness." "I, , swear not
to betray my trust-not to betray Diana,""Not by word, or look, or deed, waking or sleeping, by speech or by silence in this land or any other. If I do, may fire burn me, air smother me, earth
swallow me, and water cover my grave." ( excerpt INItiation).

Nick Armstrong, the cold, handsome face of the dark-haired guy. His eyes, they were dark brown, the color of a mahogany furniture. They weren't unfriendly, exactly. Just-unimpassioned. As if nothing much touched this guy. He’ s special, moody most of the time but speciaL.

Faye Chamberlain.A big, beautiful girl, both tall and voluptuous. She had a mane of pitch-black hair and her pale skin was touched with the glow of confidence and power. Her poem indicated that she is not a person to mess up with.
“I dream about fire-
Tongues of flame licking me.
My hair burns like a torch;
My body burns for you.
Touch my skin and your fingers will stick-
You'll blacken like a cinder.
But you'll die smiling;
Then you'll be part of the fire too.

DIANA

                             
                                                                                  MELISSA

After I read the secret circle, I knew I wanted to meet L.J Smith. To see with my very own light brown eyes that magnifies each time I focus, the woman who lives a mystifying life. How she is surrounded by magic and how she puts soul in every drop of ink in her writings. How she tells an enchanting tale that doesn’t require you to fully leave reality. I wanna join their coven, be the 13th witch and the 8th sister altogether. Find my stone and occupy any house in Crowhaven Road.

PHOTOS : GOOGLE

SECRET CIRCLE EXCERPTS: SECRET CIRCLE BY LJ SMITH

*Copyright Disclaimer Under Section 107 of the Copyright Act 1976, allowance is made for "fair use" for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarship, and research. Fair use is a use permitted by copyright statute that might otherwise be infringing. Non-profit, educational or personal use tips the balance in favor of fair use.*

SOUL Surfer

sOUL SURFER

 I cant swim , let alone surf. But Bethany Hamilton did it with one arm. How hard could it be? Sadly the place im located in doesn’t give us the opportunity to ride waves or paddle your way to it. Soul Surfer are those who surf for pure pleasure. Well it does seem like a very fulfilling hobby but the ocean kind of scares me. She lost an arm due to shark attack, I cant risk mine unless its guaranteed the there is zero dangerous body biting sea creatures in the area. She didn’t scream when she got bitten. it’s a true story so the real BETHANY HAMILTON is proof of a bold soul who surfed her way through the waves of her life.
ANNASOPHIA ROBB

She’s of my age. For a soon to be 18-year old she has done a lot and me who is merely following a path that is not solely for myself, I haven’t had my life to the fullest.  I have been watching her movies since CHARLIE AND THE CHOCOLATE FACTORY and I find it rather amusing to see how she have grown. It’s like everybody else’s life continues to flow but I’m stuck with my butt glued to a chair. Or maybe it’s a gum. 

PHOTOS: GOOGLED IN GOOGLE.....