YC "Reunion"

Last Tuesday was clearance day, which I think is utterly pointless because we don't need the "clearance" paper in order to enroll, but it's an excuse to go to UST, so whatever.

I'm rambling.

Anyway, the YC Buddies went to TriNoma to have a little fun. This is special because all seven of us are rarely together if we're not in UST.

The TriNoma branch of Yellow Cab is where we first bonded, on August 14, 2009 (I remember it because it was my birthday). Aya christened us the YC Buddies after that.

Smiling because we just attacked a pepperoni and mushroom pizza.
Dayuuum, gurlz, y'all are fine. Lawl.

After window shopping at Team Manila, where they had to drag me away from the racks of black shirts, we went to Powerbooks. I blew most of my money on an Aimee Bender book titled An Invisible Sign of My Own, but it was so worth it.

I also saw a collection of stories by authors like Neil Gaiman, Jodi Picoult, and Chuck Palahniuk, among others. It costs around P1200. I put it on my long list of books I shall buy once I get my Amex (which, by the way, will arrive sometime in the coming week).

Timezone! I think we took pictures at every ride and game there.

That's my score right there. Fuck yeah.

Ohai, Ressa.

I just love Time Crisis 4.
LOL at my "fierce" face.

Videoke after playing games. We had to wait a bit because all the booths were occupied.

[Marist] Aya

Gab & I scored this, thankyouverymuch.

Kat, Ressa, Ava.

Song list:

• Freestyle: Bakit Ngayon Ka Lang (Gab & I)
• Jason Mraz & Colbie Caillat: Lucky (Gab & I, again)
• Music & Lyrics OST: Way Back Into Love (Gab & Ressa)
• Monica: Angel of Mine (Denisse)
• David Archuleta: Crush (Ava)
• Taylor Swift: Love Story (Aya)
• Urbandub: Frailty (Aya & I)
• Bituin Escalante: Kung ako na lang Sana (Kat)
• Journey: Faithfully (Gab & I, yet again. Mic hogs.) 

I really enjoyed belting out that last song. I can't hit dem high notes ala Rachel Berry, but I did a pretty good job, if I do say so myself. (Soprano 2 in my high school glee club, I was.)

And to finish, some more pictures of us, because you really need to see this:

Top hat like a bawzz.

Distance

My mom and I had yet another fight the other day, after I got home from an impromptu sleepover at Gab's.

Mom said the usual stuff: that I was a horrible daughter, I was going too far, she was going to send me back to Marikina. And you know what? I think her last idea wasn't a bad one.

Lately, the two of us have been fighting more than usual. I feel suffocated, she feels neglected; it's not a healthy combination. 

Which is why maybe, not living together for a while might do us good. You know, like how some couples "cool off".

I don't want to go back to Marikina, though; the commute is more tiring from UST to there than to here in San Mateo, which is why I have tried to convince my mom to let me stay in a dorm.

I think me living in a dorm would benefit us both because

• it would be so much easier for me to go to school. Less hassle, less time and energy spent.
• I honestly think I could focus more on my studies if I did
• my mom and I would stop jumping down each other's throats. I believe some distance would do us good. It would help us appreciate each other.

My mom would never approve, though, because

• she would remind me what I told her years ago: "Kaya ko naman mag-commute araw-araw."
• she would say, "Ngayon ngang malayo bahay mo eh lagi kang naglalakwatsa, pag dorm ka pa kaya?"
• she would say, "Tayong dalawa na nga lang, iiwan mo pa 'ko?"

Plus, she doesn't trust me at all now. I can't say I blame her, but damn, if she would just let me dorm for even a semester, I'd prove to her that it's good for us both.

Talent is sexy.

As a rule, I always have been one to fall for talented guys, especially those with musical or artistic talent. God help me if you are a guy with both—I will be onto you like Paris Hilton on coke.

When I say musical talent, I don't just mean someone who knows know to strum a guitar, because that is too commonplace and cliche (no offense to guitar players). 

I just think that piano or violin is classier, although that may just be me having loved Meteor Garden's Hua Tze Lei back when I was a kid.

If you ask me who my crushes are, my top three would be:

Robert Smith of The Cure.
Don't give me shit about him wearing more make-up than I do.
Don't give me shit about him being six years older than my mom.
Don't give me shit about him at all, because goddammit, I love him.
[photo source]

Gabby Alipe of Urbandub.
I saw him perform a couple of times, and I also met him. That's right, bitches, be jealous, because I have met, talked with, and have a picture with, this awesome guy right here.
[photo source]

Pete Wentz of Fall Out Boy.
I love him so much that he was the cause of a fight my ex-boyfriend and I had during an FOB concert. I am not even kidding.
[photo source]

All in a band, all musically inclined (duh), all songwriters. Their talent shines through in every lyric—the ones that make me go, Oh my god he just sang everything I am feeling right now—of countless songs that they have written.

Never mind that not all of them are physically attractive. Their talent makes them more than enough, makes them better than the gorgeous-yet-dumb stereotypes multiplying like bacteria these days.

My new theme is awesome and don't you say otherwise

With absolutely no thanks to the years of computer "lessons" I have had during elementary and high school, I have successfully managed to personalize my blog!

It was actually Robbie, one of my favorite bloggers, who inspired me to customize my blog because of his post. Taking his words to heart, I scoured the Innernetz for an easy-to-manipulate Blogspot theme. 

A couple of hours later, ta-da! I had this simple albeit cute new theme.

IT IS CUTE, OKAY, DO NOT TELL ME OTHERWISE.

The cigarette header is actually part of one of Peter Angelo's paintings. That's one of the perks of having an artistically talented best friend, and when I showed it to him, he was all flattered and shit. Lawl.

I know this is just a really simple layout, but it was a challenge for me, not being oriented in CSS. So, screw you, I am giving myself a round of applause for attempting  this *~creative~* endeavor! Yay, me!

A letter to future boyfran (and no, it's not Desmond)

Since everybody's writing this sort of shit, I decided to make one of my own, too.

Dear future boyfriend,

I hate you. Yeah, you read that right. I fucking hate you for making me wait this long. I have been so lonely and so sad, I've almost given up hope that someone could love me unconditionally again.

That is, if you do love me. Because let's face it, I feel like one of the most unlovable people in this part of the Philippines. So you loving me unconditionally, accepting my many, many, faults, is only a snowball's chance in the usual scorching 25°C heat of Manila.

See? See what you did to me? You've taken so long that you've turned me into this cynical, embittered, pessimistic, forever-is-just-a-word, romcoms-are-goddamn-lies person who thinks that happy endings would happen to everyone but me. You took your time, eh? Dragged your feet? I bet you even wondered whether I was worth your time, didn't you, you son of a bitch.

*sigh* But then again, they do say good things come to those who wait. Well, future boyfriend, I have waited. Now all that's left for us to do is jump into this thing together, because let's face it, I am in love with you, and you say you're in love with me too, and the only way I can believe you is to give this relationship thingy a real shot.

I love you. I hate myself for being emotionally vulnerable yet again, but I can't help it. I love you.

Make damn sure that the wait was worth it.

Forever yours,

Ela

No Urbandub for me

Thank you, Facebook, for rubbing it in. I swear to god, I hate you so much sometimes.

If you follow me on Twitter, you've probably seen my miserable Tweetitow posts. This morning, when I phoned Music Museum to inquire about tickets, they informed me that all tickets were sold out.

To soothe my obvious, crushing disappointment, my mom offered to take me grocery shopping. I would have been happier with the shopping (I'd choose TriNoma over Save More any day), but I was so down that I'd have agreed to anything at that point. 

And so we shopped. I guess my sadness was so apparent in my face, because Mom didn't stop me from grabbing any and all comfort food that I saw in the grocery store: chocolates, chips, ice cream...

Apparently, I eat my depression. Today's food intake:

• five slices of Greenwich's Monster Cheese and Pepperoni Overload
• Pizza Fries
• half a box of Meiji Macadamia chocolates
• about a cup of Selecta Cookies & Cream and Coffee Crumble ice cream
• a packet of Milo

*le sigh* By now, the concert is over, and my fellow Dubistas are probably ecstatic about having watched Urbandub's very first major concert (Gabby Alipe, I love you!), while I am sitting here like a total loser.

Urgh. I need to eat some more before I howl with misery.

My musical soulmate is nonexistent

Most people I know don't share my taste in music. When they scroll through my cellphone's music player, the comment I hear most is, "Ano ba naman 'tong mga kanta mo dito, hindi ko alam!"

Call me hipster, but I don't like music that's too mainstream (with the exception of Fall Out Boy, only my favorite band ever).
My classmates look at me like I'm a freak when I tell them that I don't like Paramore. Reminds me of the time this week when my mom downloaded The Only Exception and Airplanes, which, to my utter vexation, she started playing early in the morning.

I also don't like contemporary music, which is why I think Lady Gaga and Ke$ha—who are basically the same thing, only Ke$ha looks even more like a trashy skank—are overrated.
Weirdly enough, my forty-something Tita Malou listens to the sort of music that kids my age listen to: mostly R&B, hip-hop, the latest dance hits by Usher, B.O.B., whoever. I don't know shit about any new songs.
On the other hand, I listen to the music of her generation: The Cure, The Smiths, a little Pet Shop Boys, OMD...

Speaking of The Cure, I am in love with their songs. Not the instrumentals, since I'm not a big fan of those, but most of their songs with lyrics are fantastic. A Letter to Elise always makes me wanna cry, and High makes me feel giddy in love, even though I'm not.

One of my favorite songs. This makes me feel all bright and shiny and happy and bouncy.

Currently, I have twelve albums downloading in my uTorrent, and I'm still searching for more new songs to add.
If you have the same taste in music, please, please, let me know. I need to find my musical soulmate. (Peter Angelo is not, repeat, not my musical soulmate. He doesn't like The Cure. What blasphemy!)

Poetry for The Best Friend

Haiku #1:

In his uniform,

with a T-square in his hand,

he always looks stressed.

Haiku #2:

With disheveled hair

and his oddly large eyebags,

he looks like an owl.

Haiku #3:

An oxymoron

Optimistic pessimist

My best friend is weird.

The Best Friend

His jokes are funny,

he likes wordplay and puns.

He calls me sweetie,

I call him cunt.

He holds a paintbrush,

and I'm proud to tell:

he likes to paint,

and he does so well.

We like the same music and read the same books

Though when he said he doesn't like The Cure—

I shot him dagger looks,

and asked, "Are you sure?"

He nodded and said, "Yes, I am,"

To my added infuriation, his books, he refuses to lend.

And I shook my head and yelled, "Damn!

Now I know this friendship will end!"

A letter to Gab

The other night, my dear friend Gab celebrated her debut. Being part of the eighteen dedications, I was asked to sing a line from a song. I chose the Eraserheads' Huwag Kang Matakot:

Huwag kang matakot. Di mo ba alam nandito lang ako sa iyong tabi? Di kita pababayaan kailanman.

Thank god Ely Buendia wrote that song, because as sappy and sentimental as I am, I find it hard to tell Gab the mushy stuff I usually only tell The Best Friend.

Anyway, since I feel a bit guilty about giving a rather thoughtless gift (Bench boxers), here goes:

Dear Abbey Gaile G. Gatbonton,

It's been more than a year when I started the nickname Gab. It was during Economics class when the stress got a bit much for you and we followed you into the comfort room to comfort you (heh, I am so witty).

Thank you for making me happy for the past several months. Every time I'm with you, I can't help but laugh, and not just because you won't shut your piehole. You always can manage to get a smile (however reluctant) on my face when I want to pull out my hair in misery.

We are always sabaw or lutang or any other word that means acting like we're stoned. Those moments, no matter how random, define our friendship.

On a more serious note, you've always been there for me when I feel like there's no one to listen to me. You take my crap so well and you don't judge me (too harshly) when I recount my crazy adventures and many, many wrong decisions. And for that, I love you.

Not to mention how well you can handle me when I have menstrual cramps and I'm all PMS-y and I bitch and moan and whine about every little thing.

Honestly, I do not know what I would do without you. I will always be here for you, even if sometimes I feel like punching you in the gut. I love you!

Belated happy birthday. You deserve every happiness in the world.

Run for Pasig River

October 10, 2010. Our NSTP required us to participate in this event.

I woke up at 2AM for said run, so I was determined to enjoy every minute of 10-10-10 (out of which, by the way, everyone made a big deal. I still don't get why people believe it's good luck.)

As with all school-required runs and marathons, my friends and I didn't really "run" as we did "walk" for three kilometers.

Like a bawzz at the finish line!

The run, however, wasn't as tiring as trying to get the Finisher's Band. There was a huge crowd  and everybody was pushing each other. Kat's face was nearly shoved into some middle-aged guy's sweaty, hairy armpit. Gross.

One of our dogs got hold of my Finisher's Band.
Now, the wooden square is all splinters.

The next couple hours were spent zonked out in the parking lot, waiting for MOA to open. When hunger overtook us, we circled 'round looking for a restaurant that didn't have a thousand customers lined up *ehem*McDonald's*ehem*.

We ended up in a small resto where our order of four mini-bowls of batchoy took an hour to get served to us.

Luckily, entertainment came in the form of an uncouth STI student who, because of her rudeness, drove away a couple of CEU students. Heh, trashiness is annoying but entertaining as hell. 

I let out an evil laugh when I saw that the rude girl's order was taking forever (that's called sinful joy, isn't it, Sir Basas?).

After chowing down, Ava, Aya, Kat, and I finally entered MOA, all sweaty and sticky from the race. The next hours were spent happily [window] shopping.

After weeks of preoccupation and self-absorption, it felt good to hang with my girls again. I missed the YC 

Buddies.

Disappointment sinks in amid a haze of cigarette smoke and car exhaust

Does my absence affect you somehow?
When your hand reaches out, are you disappointed to grasp empty air?
When your eyes scan the room, does your heart sink to find me gone?
When you purse your lips, do you find yourself wishing, even subconsciously, for the taste of mine?

Does my presence affect you somehow?
When your hand grasps mine, do you inwardly cringe and hesitate at my sweaty palms?
What your eyes meet mine, does your heart skip a beat ecstatically?
When you taste my lips, do you find yourself longing for a miracle that would make the moment last forever?

No?
I didn't think so.

Retail Therapy with The Best Friend (again) at TriNoma (again)

Yes, because it's TriNoma, not just Trinoma.

The fifteenth is Gab's birthday, and she's have the celebration on the sixteenth with the outfit theme of retro-vintage. I do not have anything remotely retro-vintage, owing to the fact that my wardrobe consists of shorts, black shirts, and sneakers, so I asked Peter Angelo if he could accompany me to TriNoma after my final exam.

The first shop we hit was Mental. The last time we went shopping, I saw a gray blouse there which I thought looked totally vintage, but when I tried it on, he was all, "don't get that," so I tried this one:

Blouse/top/whatever from Mental, P750-ish.
My apologies for the sucky pictures and the even suckier set-up.
Was too lazy to find a good spot to shoot my new loot.

Even though the large was a tad too big for me, I instantly fell in love with it. But thanks to the shitty universe constantly conspiring against me, they didn't have it in a smaller size. We spent a lot of time hopping from boutique to boutique, looking for something equally good. After several disappointments (I'm looking at you, Bayo, Kamiseta, Freeway, 101 New York, Guess, and countless other shops I've entered today), I decided to screw this shit and buy the pretty top, even if it was a large.

Next step was to accessorize. Nothing says vintage like pearls, right? The glass-pearl necklace at Aldo cost P600+, almost the same as my new top. Fuck that! I scrimped and went to Pop Culture.

Fake-pearl necklace from Girl Shoppe, for P170

Then, after buying a gift for Gab, we swung by Bench to buy Clearpore. Blackheads are taking over my nose and I wanna look somewhat good for the party tomorrow.

Shopping empties the stomach as well as the wallet, so we wanted to eat. Thing was, we couldn't decide where. I wanted Kenny Rogers, he wanted Burger King. Urgh. Burger King is tasty and whatever, but I'm not really into burgers except for Wendy's Baconators. Besfran said I was the only person he knew who didn't like BK. Uhh, I'm sorry??
Hunger overcame us and we decided to compromise: Taco Bell, again. I ain't complaining, though; I love me my chicken grilled taquitos and cheese quesadillas.

What happened later made me thank the stars that I have Peter for a best friend. It was so nice having a friend who actually liked going to bookstores and obsessing whether or not to get a book that he has been wanting for months—which was J.D. Salinger's The Catcher in the Rye, if anyone's interested.
I also bought Willful Creatures, a book by Aimee Bender, who I've loved since I've read The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake.

Bought it at Powerbooks for P615.
Ela: *sees book* Uy, uy, Aimee Bender, ayyy!
Peter Angelo: ...geek! Geek! Geek!

Do I still need to blog about the usual epic fails we have when we're together? Particularly the ones where we're so engrossed in the conversation that we forget where we're supposed to go and make our walks longer than it should be? No? I didn't think so.

Before going home, though, we went to Toys'r'Us. Just because.

This is probably the closest thing you'll see to a photo of Peter and I,
because he expressly forbade me to post his picture on my blog.
Killjoy.

Because of this shopping trip, I missed a drinking session with my blockmates, but it was worth it because I got to spend time with one of my best friends.

By the way, sembreak has officially begun! Hell to the yeah!

The last day of Handball

Every Tuesday, we have PE, and I can't remember whether it was last week or the week before that that my PE-mates (for lack of a better word) and I sat the written finals. I know, who has written PE finals, right? Sucks.

Afterwards, we had breakfast at Jollibee.

After chowing down and camwhoring, a few of us decided to play Rock Band. An hour cost P200 at Usturias, the computer shop beside Tapsi, in Asturias street.

Ava and Jayjay didn't really play, though.
They just watched Gab, Carlo, Tin, and I rock the "instruments".

The drums were the easiest to play.

Gab rocked every instrument she held, including the microphone.
After Rock Band, she said she wanted to take up drum lessons. Lulz.

Got 98% when I sang. ;)

We played nine songs. Lemme see if I can still remember:

1. No Doubt's Don't Speak 
2. Fall Out Boy's This Ain't a Scene, It's an Arms Race
3. Dashboard Confessional's Hands Down
4. Green Day's 21 Guns
5. Nirvana's Smells Like Teen Spirit
6. Paramore's Crushcrushcrush
7. The Killers' Mr. Brightside for the finale, which I sang. Teehee.

That day was bittersweet, though. After that, we might not have the same PE classes, which is a shame because we always have fun together.

It was the best PE class I have had, thanks to these fun people!

The Green Team!
L-R: Ann, me, Aya, our instructor Mr. Calixterio, Tin, Ava, Carlo, Jayjay, and Kevin.

Catch-up Tuesday with The Best Friend

Yesterday, after sitting my final exams in Rizal and Rational Psychology, Peter Angelo texted me, asking if I'd like to go to TriNoma. We haven't met for over a month, so even though I had a NatSci exam (the subject which I might fail) the following day, I agreed.

Every time I commute with Peter, I always end up somehow looking like a complete jackass. This time, he tickled me in the jeepney, and I jumped. Yes, I fucking leapt, almost into a stranger's lap.

After eating at Taco Bell, we hit Landmark in search of a quarter-sleeve shirt. We also hit Mental and 101 New York. It was in the latter that he found several shirts he liked, including this one:

Okay, so I was gonna upload a photo of him, 

but he might be uncomfortable with that, so... yeah, wag na lang.

He ended up buying a black-and-white, checked shirt from 101NY and a white bowtie from Landmark (we dress in monochrome).

Of course I wasn't gonna go home empty-handed—what, was I his personal assistant?—so I wheedled him into buying me something. Anything! So he bought me a really pretty metal lighter for P170.

A funny thing happened then. We were supposed to buy Jamaican Beef Patties for my mom as pasalubong, but as usual, we were so engrossed in our conversation that we didn't notice where we were going. Before we knew it, we were outside TriNoma when we were supposed to go to the food court. Lulz.

Tired from talking, walking, laughing, and going 'round in circles, we flopped down on a bench to rest our feet while listening to Urbandub's A Call to Arms.

There's no point to keep your head facedown, when all we see and know and feel is temporary.

At that moment, we saw fireworks from across the street. Fireworks! Colorful and gorgeous against the night sky. What a perfect way to end an awesome day.

Urbandub's first major concert > Anything else in my entire life, ever

Ten years. That's how long Urbandub has been creating beautiful, incredible music.

Now they're holding their first major concert and I am gonna be there, goddammit! I just have to:

1. Ask my mom for money. I'm planning to get the next-best seats, in the Orchestra, which cost P1000. I really wanna get the VIP ones (P1250) which include the best seats and—wait for it—an after-party with Urbandub! But it's limited to forty people, and I don't think I'd make the cut.
2. Ask my mom for permission. I've got so many plans for the sembreak that my mom would probably go nuts. However, this is Urbandub. Urbandub! She knows how much this would mean to me. I'll cry until she caves, I swear to god.
3. Find out how to get to the venue. One word: Taxi.

First two shouldn't be easy, but for Urbandub (especially Gabby Alipe), I would do anything. Everything.

Ticket information is available here, for anyone else interested in going. And who the hell wouldn't be interested in going? It's Urbandub, for the love of god! :D

A Date at Cafe Lidia

Friday before last, I didn't go to class and slept in. When I woke up, Mom suggested that we go out.

We've been dying to eat at this restaurant called Cafe Lidia, located in Calumpang (is it with a C or a K? I never really knew), Marikina. It's been featured on a TV show and the food looked pretty good, so we gave it a shot.

Even as I entered the restaurant, I knew it was gonna be great. The sucky cellphone pictures don't do justice to the pleasant, country ambiance of the place.

I had my favorite, seafood marinara. Carbonara used to be my favorite, but I learned that marinara is healthier than cream-based sauces, so I feel a little less like a fat pig when I opt for this.

I want to call these the Before and After shots of my plate,
but I was halfway through my pasta when it
occurred to me to take a photo.

For dessert, I ordered a slice of... Of... Chocolate-paradise-something-like-that-oh-shit-I-forgot!

Before the food arrived, though, I was pretty annoyed with my mom, who was absorbed in her new cellphone and the free WiFi in the place. She was all up on Facebook and I was sulking because I don't like it when I'm with someone and I'm being ignored for a cellphone.

I missed hanging out with my mom. Not at home, when we're both on short fuses for nearly every little thing. I miss going out with her, shopping, eating, talking, laughing at the crazy things she comes up with.

Mission Impossible: Be a good daughter.

My face is so lulzy in this photo.