Kiss Ass Write-up.

Tuesday night. 11:00pm. Through text:

Juju: Ja, busy ka? Pwede mo ba akong gawan ng write up for yearbook? (Pero syempre text format ang spelling namin ng lahat ng ito sa totoong buhay.)

Ja: Ha? Ngayon na? As in ngayon na? Di ko alam yun. Ako nga di sumali sa yearbook ng batch namin eh.

Juju: Kaya mo yan, 5-10 sentences lang. Isipin mo lang nagbablog ka. Please?

Ja: Ngayon na? As in? Kelan ang deadline nyan?

Juju: Bukas ng hapon. Hehe. (with U dot dot)

Ja: Ano?! Yung batchmates mo last month pa may write up, ikaw ngayon lang nagpapagawa??

Juju: Nawala sa isp ko, naging busy ako… Sige na, thanks!

Ja: Naging busy daw, naging busy sa pakikipag-date! Pasalamat ka mahal kita.

(Pero sa isip ko lang yun, di ko na nireply, maiiba pa ang usapan eh. Sayang pa sa load yun dahil di ako nag uunlimited. Eto talaga ang nireply ko…)

Ja: Tatry ko ha, pero kung may back up kang tao, kontakin mo na para pag di mo nagustuhan at pumalpak ako, may maipapasa ka pa.

Juju: Wala ng iba, si Meliauh, busy daw. Thank you! I owe you!

Ja: Ge, tatry ko. Try lang.  Alam mo pano ko magsulat ha, di seryoso, wag kang mag expect ng mala-shakespeare. 5-10 sentences lang?

Juju: 250 words nga yan, pero baka mapressure ka kasi. Haha. Super thank you!

Ja: Tangek ka.

Alas dos na!  Go Large nanaman eyebags ko nito. Pinost ko na sa multiply. At ito yun.

Dorcas Juliette Ramos 1987-2008 (hahahah!)

Not knowing when and not knowing how, everyone is constantly susceptible to having bad days; everyone but this young lady.  More often than not, Juju carries this effervescent kind of attitude, which stretches out to the fullest length outside her that warms the cockles of her family and friends’ hearts.  She is undeniably compelling.  It is like she emanates charm and felicity, blended in a ray directed toward everyone around her, while she, herself, lacks awareness of it.

Vivaciousness is not only the admired natural aspect in her, Juju is a responsible and dependable individual as well.  May it be maintaining excellent status in academics, doing her benevolent duties in the organization she belongs to, performing accompaniment to her cousins and friends on shopping days and gimmick nights, or just simply playing a mascot role to her niece and nephews, she never drags her heels. She could even keenly pass as the world’s next superhero; or, maybe of a minor sort.

For people who have not known her much yet, Juju’s semblance could make them perceive her as a person who has refined knowledge about the ways of the world.  It is what she is, indeed.  But close under her fine-looking appearance still lies a flimsy little girl who looks up to her loving mother, for courage and for love, to go on every single wage war in her life.

Through text ulit. Lunch time.

Juju: Nabasa ko na Ja. Thanks.

Ja: Pag may poblema feel free to edit or ireklamo mo sakin. You owe me your life.

Juju: Yey! Thank you thank you! I owe you coffee!

Ja: No, you owe me your life.

Tuesday ng hapon.

It is official. I am an ass-kisser. 

Insomiac Us.

It’s way past three in the morning and I feel like I’ve just eaten whole slabs of meat marinated in adrenaline sauce.  The hormone just kicks in, no matter how desperate I am to rest. Ugh!  I always want and try to rest before clock reads midnight, but my body just couldn’t curb its overwhelming energy. 

 
Often are the nights like this, since I was seven.  I think it’s genetic, because my maternal grandmother and my mother suffered and suffers from the same case.  Of course, there are also times when I fall asleep quicker than a drunken bastard due to work or shopping fatigue, but then again, nights such as that are not enough to restore my normal body clock and to wipe away my eyedrums, I mean, eyebags.

At least, unlike my maternal grandmother and my mother, I still don’t resort to taking sleeping pills.  I have my blogs and books to make my mind feel relaxed and then all ready to rest. 

Early From The Dance is the book I am currently reading.

Deep-freeze me.

Just finished downloading and listening to the latest single of Sugarfree.  I got to listen to the whole song for the first time, and I mean the first time, despite of its premiere on MTV and MYX for quite a few weeks now.  As usual, as I was listening to Sugarfree’s, my heart suddenly felt like an ice cube taken out of the freezer, strained in the palms of one’s hand, until it becomes useless water dropping on the floor, waiting to be evaporated by earth’s natural heat.  The heck, I could simply express it as “my heart was melting,” but of course, it was more than just melting.  Though it was something I am not really sure of.  Nangangawit is a happy song, a hopeful song, it is a loving song, a sweet song, and also a frustrated song.  What other words could I use better than melting?  Not in the mood to probe Mr. Webster right now, so please just excuse me for the lack of exact words.

 
Ebe once more has stretched a song beyond its proper limit.  He always does, in his own styles; and that is why I adore him.  I don’t think anyone could stir salitang kalye up to a great emotional intensity the way Ebe does in his songs.  The amount of intensity isn’t just in words, really, half of it is in his voice, tone, modulation, or whatever. Again, lack of right words, pardon me.

 
I just so love him dearly.  That is all what I really want to say.

“Hanggang kailan ko dadalhin aking lihim na pagtingin? Kung hindi mo pa alam, ewan ko na lang.” –song’s best line for me.

Takeshi’s Castle? Huh?

Got the game from Eliza.

Most of the songs fit, in fairness! Walang ek ek at pagchochurva.

RULES:
1. Put your music player on shuffle.
2. For each question, press the next button to get your answer.
3. You must write that song name down no matter how silly it sounds!

IF SOMEONE SAYS "IS THIS OKAY" YOU SAY?
brighter than sunshine   (aqualung)    --> o, may mas ookay pa kaya jan?

WHAT WOULD BEST DESCRIBE YOUR PERSONALITY?
linger    (the cranberries)     --> nah, not really!

WHAT DO YOU LIKE IN A GUY/GIRL?
Anino   (lucida, band in uplb)      --> haha, ikaw na ang ma-attract sa anino!

HOW DO YOU FEEL TODAY?
happily never after   (nicole scherzinger)   --> swak. kasi bum pa rin.

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE’S PURPOSE?
ikaw lamang   (silent sanctuary)       --> pamatay linya, ikaw ba yan?

WHAT IS YOUR MOTTO?
until the end of time   (justin and beyonce)

WHAT DO YOUR FRIENDS THINK OF YOU?
push   (matchbox20)    --> friends, am I pushy? haha.

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF YOUR PARENTS?
signal fire   (snow patrol)    –> ye, they really are my signal fire. naks!

WHAT DO YOU THINK ABOUT VERY OFTEN?
gone   (justin timberlake)    --> haha, translation: ikaw ay lost madalas!

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
listen   (stonefree)    --> ..to me. you! you really should! haha, bitter?

WHAT IS YOUR LIFE STORY?
from yesterday   (30 sec to mars)        –> nyak, di swak.

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP?
because of you   (neyo)      –> nye. adik ba ako sa lalake?

WHAT DO YOU THINK WHEN YOU SEE THE PERSON YOU LIKE?
misery business    (paramore)    --> hmm…

WHAT DO YOUR PARENTS THINK OF YOU?
follow you down   (gin blossoms)       –> oh no! mom, dad, please don’t.

WHAT WILL YOU DANCE TO AT YOUR WEDDING?
very special love   (lani misalucha)    –> ay, ayos, ayos, sakto ‘to for wedding!!!

WHAT WILL THEY PLAY AT YOUR FUNERAL?
magasin   (eraserheads)    –> haha! nakakaloka ito!!!

WHAT IS YOUR HOBBY/INTEREST?
firewoman   (barbie almalbis)   –> ikaw na ang maghobby ng pagiging firewoman!

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST FEAR?
cry me a river   (justin timberlake)    –> okay okay, i’m a justin fan. madami akong songs niya talaga.

WHAT IS YOUR BIGGEST SECRET?
wrong impression   (natalie imbruglia)    --> huh?!

WHAT SONG WILL BE THE SUBJECT WHEN YOU REPOST?
takeshi’s castle   (kiko machine)   –> wow, bomalabs nito for title.

Steer Clear Of Something?

My friend is newly proclaimed single.  She was broken up with by her less than a year boyfriend.  Nothing quirky about it actually, it was just another men’s-way-of-breaking-up story.  It ended just the same way most men end their relationships, wherein certain lines—such as “it’s not you, it’s me,” and “I hope you’ll someday find that person who’s truly worthy of your love,”—were abused.  Not to mention, the relationship ended through languid exchange of text messages.  Men, men, men.  

 
They are pretty comfortable with text and with those lines, aren’t they?  Umm, is it because most men really do think of the same ways and same lines when trying to break up with somebody, or is it just most of them plainly have the same size of small balls?

For my newly-proclaimed-single friend’s ex-boyfriend, for my ex-boyfriends, for my best friend, and for other men who do similar ways mentioned above: for your information, us, women, are such fans of mushy, lame, chich-flick movies.  Yes we extremely are, but that doesn’t mean we buy those rotten lines!  I mean, come on!  Do better than than, be more rational than that!  Just please don’t give us that crap.

The Nearest Of My Near Death Experiences

I’m sure you’re aware that there are several women who don’t like to talk about their monthly period.  You know, those women who utter “napkin” and “do I have a stain?” in a very very soft voice, so soft that the person they are talking to would answer them “Huh? Come again?” with a straight bland face.  Anyhow, as I was mentioning, there are some women who don’t like to talk about their monthly period, and bloody hell, (pun intended) I am not one of them.

This past Saturday, my family and I were all revved up around 9am to head to Subic. We were meeting my maternal aunt and cousin, who live in Bataan, for a day of shopping and pig out at random Subic Freeport establishments.  Before we left our house, I already felt that I was about to have my period.  So I did my necessary monthly procedure, which includes 1.)bringing a napkin, aside from what I’m wearing, 2.)drinking pain reliever, and 3.)preparing for oh no, not another “near death experience!”

 
You see, I first had my period when I was 10. Yup yup! And since then, my life was never the same again.  Every red day is a “near-death experience” in the making because of the unfaltering loyalty of dysmenorrhea.  And due to this, every red day is drug-addiction day as well.  I sometimes drink small dosage of Medicol and other times would beg for a higher dosage of Ponstan.  I can’t really describe nor explain the kind and level of pain that dysmenorrhea brings me.  All I know is that the pain hurts my tummy area badly that it makes me sweat like a pig inside of an air-conditioned room, makes my stomach feel empty as if I didn’t eat for 2 days, and impairs my brain like I never slept for 72hours straight.

 
Back to the Subic story.  Even after I had ingested Medicol, the pain still persisted. Actually, it kept on getting worse.  By 11am we were already in Pampanga.  We had a stopover in a store of a gas station somewhere in the province where my family ate some broas and Nagaraya crackers while I was uttering my ferocious pain.  Around 11:30am, we were passing the town of Guagua.  I was lying in the backseat when my parents and brother noticed a hospital in sight and right there, they threw me the question, “O, may hospital, dadalin ka na?!”  I answered yes, without any hesitation.

 
I was in my most terrible dysmenorrhea condition. In roughly 144 times that I had my period, 120 of those were excruciating, this one is yet the worst.

 
I was weak I had to be in a wheelchair from car to emergency room.  Minutes after I checked in Pampanga Medical Specialists’ Hospital, a male nurse attended me and examined my blood pressure.  It was 90/60.  It was too low.  Um, I don’t really have an idea on BPs but by the way the nurse said it, I believe it’s not good.  He said it like “sobrang baba po.”  And he put that stress on “sobrang” like it was pretty bad, as bad as jogging pants paired with black leather shoes for an office-attire.  Minutes passed and another nurse attended me, injected me some (oh my goodness, what’s that weird medicine name again? oh stupid, just make use of google search! great, now I know it!) Tramadol.  It is another kind of pain reliever.  

 
About 15-20 minutes later, the pain was lessened and I was back in my perky mode.  So we then got back on the road before we all hurt our tummies for not eating lunch on time.  It was already 1pm when we reached Subic and I wasn’t feeling a tinge of hurt anymore.  The pain was gone just in time for a great lunch and ransack-shopping.  Now that’s what I’d like to consider sunshine after the rain.  Haha!

Kudos to U.P.!

My college friends, who I still constantly hang out with even after graduation, sent me a text message asking me to come to UP Diliman and witness with them the start of the long week celebration of our alma mater’s centennial.  I studied in UP Los Banos, not in Diliman nor in Manila, but the celebration applied to every UP campus, and every UP iskolar ng bayan was invited.  I was not in the mood to blend myself in a crowd, which I then had no idea how vast would be, so, I texted back an excuse, made my ambivalence obvious, and didn’t show up.  For the rest of that day, I sulked in front of the computer and forgot about the whole centennial craze.  Day after, posts in friendster, multiply, and blogsites contain pictures and stories about the celebration. 
 

There were good posts, actually, and good shots. 

Nice.  

I wasn’t there. 

Very nice. 

Umm, is this the part where I should push the rewind button?  Oh eff!  I forgot! There never was a rewind button existed.  Ever! 

 
I had nothing to do that day but chose not to go!  I was just in my little comfy home situated 40 minutes away from Diliman campus, then again, I chose not to go.  How lame was I?  Should I see a shrink now because of my unintelligeble decision?  Can someone prescribe me some medications, please?  It may seem like I’m making a big fuss out of it, but, I was really that upset, I am still that upset.  Now all I can do is just look at pictures on personal sites of friends (UP students and alumni) who were there. I stole a few to post here.

I know, the lights are not marvelous.  Low-budgeted, as usual.

I should have one as soon as possible.  And maybe after owning a commemorative plate I could save up for my own car!

UPLB’s bus banner

100 years of excellence and service. 

Acknowledgment: Thanks Ratet (my UP ADS sis) for providing photos for me to steal, which I unhesitatingly did.

YOU somehow GOT ME.

I am a self-confessed chick-flick addict.  And I hate being one.  What I hate most is that due to my addiction, I could find myself watching even the local films, starred by pathetic actors and guided by lame stories.  Just yesterday, I saw You Got Me playing in Cinema One.

I don’t like Toni Gonzaga.  I hate watching her while she overdoes (make that overdoes: mathematically raised to the 7th power) hosting in Pinoy Big Brother.  I hate Sam Milby.  I hate that there are rumors extensively spreading saying he is gay, and that he is Piolo’s lover.  I hate that I can’t help believing the rumors because it is simply just oh so true.  Let me not forget Zanjoe Marudo.  I hate him for trying too hard to be an actor when it is really in modeling where he fits.  I hate them all, but I had to watch the film.  It’s a local chick-flick, and I am a chick-flick addict, remember?

I’m sure you have already thought of it, that I liked the film.  Despite the predictable twists, the ordinary humors, and the “they tried hard enough” fight scenes, I honestly did like it.  The three main casts were good in their roles.  They were effortless; Toni as a policewoman, Sam as a geek torpe, and Zanjoe as a jologs pirated DVD vendor.  Also, Toni and Sam look good together, in all fairness.  But of course, I got to appreciate it only cause I saw it in cable.  If I spent more than a hundred bucks for that film in theaters, I would be ranting by now—big time!, just like how I was with One More Chance.

My Cosmetics 101.

In my room this afternoon, I sat on my vanity.  I watched myself on the mirror for less than a minute, and after staring at my face, I came to a realization that maybe it’s about time for me to learn wearing these commercialized colorful too-many-to-mention-chemicals, that vain girls rather call make-up.

I am turning 22 within a month, and the sad truth is… at this age, I don’t own any dashing make-up. Well, except for the basics—which by the way you might not consider make-up at all—like cheap loose powder, cheap blush on, and small cheap petroleum jelly (as lip balm).  Anyway, given my poor situation, I sneaked in my parents’ room and checked my mother’s cosmetics box.  Found a light brown concealer, a not-so-red red lipstick, and a palette of that eyelid thingy, which has six different shades of blue and six different shades of violet (exactly the shades that work well with my skin color; that is, according to the make-up artist I worked with at my grad pictorial.)
 

I came back in my room and began the application of commercialized colorful too-many-to-mention-chemicals.  After several minutes of trying to create an art on my own face, I was displeased with the outcome.  I looked visually repulsive.  I felt visually repulsive.  But, it’s totally fine with me.  It was just apparent that I absolutely have no talent on it, and it didn’t make me hate myself for that.  Besides, it’s not in my interest to wear cosmetics since I’m not the girly type; I’m more of the wash-and-wear kind of lady.  I just wanted to know, out of curiosity, what I will look like if I toy my face with different colors.  And now that I do, cosmetics 101 for myself shall be "if you don’t want to scare people, better stick with the cheap basic ones you’ve got."

Sorry Potpot…

I have the responsibility to groom our baby Potpot at least twice a week, but these past few days, I got too occupied and left him uncared-for. He had not taken a bath for more than a week, I think.  Didn’t seem to learn how dirty he was feeling though, until I found him yesterday morning…

…voluntarily submitting himself to be laundered along with some of our clothes. And he knew in which set he’d place himself, with the colored clothes! Smart boy!
 

Disclaimer: No animals were harmed (drowned and whirled inside the washing machine to be exact) during and after the incident.

The Best Incident Of My 2007.*

There were five minutes left before 10 o’clock when I squinted at the numbers on my phone’s clock.  I was running late for work!  Moments later, the bus I was riding reached EDSA Ortigas.  I jumped out of it and started practicing my brisk walking techniques I learned in college (as I always left my apartment exactly the time my classes started) until I got to the steps of pedestrian overpass.

Realizing I still had 15 minutes before office could declare me a sluggish employee, I decided to forget the time pressure and relaxed a bit; wishing my calculation of distance and time between Megamall and our building fits well in real life.  And besides, there was a cute guy ahead of me whom I didn’t want to lose sight of.  Thought I could be a stalker for one morning.  So, I enjoyed the walk, with music through my headset, while I was crossing overpass. I also played random things in my imagination and even came up with a hypothetical notion, what if, in some unexplainable earthly manner, you slip in front of people who are unknown to you? That’s barely possible, I thought, answering my own question. I continued walking and entertained other things in my head, including the guy ahead.

As I continued walking to office, I felt amusingly funny; that is, of course, while my body was exploding adrenaline.  I was feeling funny more than ashamed.  To make me be in a normal mood again, I groped my phone in my pocket and changed the music I was listening to. I scanned the track list and played Nothing in This World.  It was alleviating, a bit. Wasn’t my fave song, but its feel-good tune helped.  I yet craved for more comfort.  So, I ran to 7/11 and bought myself a Big Uhaw of Mountain Dew with lots of ice.  I arrived at the office even before the music ended.  I was late, but I didn’t mind.  I put down my things and ran straight to my officemate’s cubicle and narrated to her the hilarious experience.
 

 –> I cleaned my face with oil control film just before I started my work that day and wasn’t surprised with the result.

And oh, the guy aforementioned?  I lost him.  Obviously.

 * Took place on Aug 13, 2007, Monday.

I Am An Idealist.

Out of purposelessness this one lazy Saturday midnight, I just decided to surf the internet and visited a number of my friends’ blogsites.  In one blog, I saw a link of a personality test site, which I clicked out of curiosity.  In that test site, I saw a list of outrageous personality tests like what’s your pizza personality, how much is your life worth, what does your favorite color say about you, and what are the chances you’ve been abducted by an alien.  Anyway, found one that sort of stirred my interest, it’s called the three question personality test.  Obviously, the test only consists of three questions, which I answered frivolously.  In all fairness, the result truly says a lot about my personality, in one way or another.

Your Personality Is

Idealist (NF) You are a passionate, caring, and unique person. You are good at expressing yourself and sharing your ideals. You are the most compassionate of all types and connect with others easily. Your heart tends to rule you. You can’t make decisions without considering feelings. You seek out other empathetic people to befriend. Truth and authenticity matters in your friendships. In love, you give everything you have to relationships. You fall in love easily. At work, you crave personal expression and meaning in your career. With others, you communicate well. You can spend all night talking with someone. As far as your looks go, you’ve likely taken the time to develop your own personal style. On weekends, you like to be with others. Charity work is also a favorite pastime of yours.

Although the last sentence is non-existent in my life, should I have the money, or had I born as Henry Sy’s daughter, I would really do charity work, particularly help orphanages.

On the other hand, I can say that paragraph two and six are the strongest descriptions. I’m sure if my close friends will read this, they’ll agree.

"Paris, First Class, International."

These are the inspiring words Donna (Gwyneth Paltrow) recites many times in the movie View From the Top, as she’s trying to get into the company of Royalty Airlines, the best of such, as a flight attendant.  I watched this film the other day when I was too lazy to get out of my room and iron my clothes.  But, I’m not going to write about the movie, because to tell you the truth, there’s actually nothing in there. View From the Top is just one of those chick flicks that try to flatter the heart of every girl who watches it.  It’s not even a “good” movie.  For whatever criteria a person has in rating a movie, I’m sure this film won’t even pass as good.  What the heck, I thought I’m not going to write about the movie?!  Anyhow, I am all about the flight attendant thingy.
 
It is my latest dream, to be a flight attendant, an international flight attendant.  Before, I just lose myself in a trance wherein I am a vice president of an advertising company, in which signing documents, watching presentations, and playing solitaire in my own flat-screen computer are part of all in a day’s work.  Then I learned that is not what I could be.  I am not creative and I couldn’t come up with bright ideas everyone will worship, so I have no right to criticize and approve bright ideas myself.  I could be more like a… more like a flight attendant!

All the perks that a woman is looking for in a job is in that one, as far as I know.  (I need not enumerate the perks; you all know what an F.A. does.)  Having the preferred height of 5’6 and body built that is reasonably in between skinny and fat, I told myself I have a big chance in my dream. 

In fact, a year ago, I gave it a shot.  But just when I was about to start taking steps, reality bit me in the ass.  Actually, it was more of “it bit me then it kicked me, and then it left me bruised out in a field.”  (Oh, that might be too exaggerated, so let’s just consider using the “reality bit me in the ass” phrase again, ok?)  My set of teeth is far from the “pearly, shiny, white” ones that you see on commercials; my legs and elbows are like a museum of scars, which I got from outdoor games and sports that I enjoyed in my childhood and teenage years; and my eyes have these horrendous bags which make me look like I haven’t slept for 25 years when I’ve only been living for almost 22 years.  To make the long boring story short, it was out of my league, therefore I got rejected. Ouch!
 
Honestly, I thought that dream will make me fly, but then it made me fell on rock solid ground (head first) because it almost shattered my confidence.  Almost, however, it didn’t.  I’m thankful that it didn’t.  I guess it’s time to pick a new dream.  …Hmm, what do you think about another woman taking over our country’s presidency?

Toink!

The first day of the new year is about to end. It’s currently 11:52 in the evening and here I am, in front of a blank white screen, untangling my thoughts, trying to come up with something that I could use as New Year’s resolution or a year-ender note perhaps. I opened a new document in my MS Word only to learn that I have nothing to say, or maybe I’m just not in the mood to express what’s in me. Hmm, this is not good. It’s the first day of the year and I’m far from being perky and expressive, I’ve been like this the whole day. Bad, bad, bad. Oh well, I’ll sleep on it and hope in the next few days I’ll have my thoughts straighten out.
 

So basically, I just posted a sheer folly on the first day of 2008. Great start Janina, great start.