Bondage

I am tied down
by dirty cotton bandages
I am forced back
into an unyielding wooden spineboard
I lie vulnerable
exposed for all the world to see
I am helpless
in this game we play,
bound to the idea
of you and me.

Inspired months ago, during my NSTP make-up session.

Depression Junkie

Well, am I?

In Closer (one of my favorite movies), there was a scene where Clive Owen and the delicious Jude Law were locked in a heated argument over Julia Roberts.

0:27

Dan: ...if you love her, you'll let her go so she can be happy.
Larry: She doesn't want to be happy.
Dan: Everybody wants to be happy.
Larry: Depressives don't. They want to be unhappy to confirm they're depressed. If they were happy they couldn't be depressed anymore. They'd have to go out into the world and live. Which can be depressing. 

Confirming what I suspected, Kat told me that I seek out things to be depressed about. The sucky realization that this might be true in my case made me feel... well, what else, sad.

Maybe I gravitate towards darkness and failure because on some level, I don't want to change the misery to which I had become accustomed. Maybe my unyielding pessimism is my way of avoiding pain. Maybe, in my subconscious, I feel undeserving of happiness, and I nurture this self-defeating attitude by finding a way to feel like shit. Maybe lang naman.

How sick is that? I have had quite enough of being all dark and twisty. Time for a change, methinks.

I am serious this time. No more halfway relationships, no more stupid decisions, no more writing depressing stuff overly emotional posts, no more waiting for McDreamy when I could have McVet (Grey's Anatomy references are the best). Genuine happiness might be just around the corner if I open my eyes.

(Depression junkie. Heh. If it weren't so twisted, it would sound quite cool.)

For posterity: How I feel right now about Future Boyfriend

I like writing letters to future boyfriend because with everything that has gone wrong in my previous relationships, I'd like to think things will get better the second time around (actually, the fourth time around, because I have had three boyfriends.)

Dear future boyfriend,
I know that when we get together, you will love me for all my quirks, so I am not going to hold back what I really think. Instead, I am going to be completely honest with you about all these lovey-dovey stuff couples do.

Monthsaries. I HATE MONTHSARIES. To quote a text sent to me by my friend, "Couples celebrate monthsaries because most relationships don't reach anniversaries." (I corrected the horrible grammar) True. How very, very true.
Seriously, do you want fireworks for every thirty days we manage not to break up? It's like you're on the edge of your seat, expecting us to split. So unless it's our twelfth monthsary, which is our anniversary (duh), don't expect me to jump up and down with joy.
Also, those special numbers couples have, like back in the Friendster days when you'd put your monthsary date in Roman Numerals (miKaeLa_xxvii—yes, I really did that!)? I hate them. Please do not makea big deal out of a "special number".

Pet names. Sweetie, honey, angel, baby, and the jologs bhie, bhe, dhie (Daddy), mhie (Mommy—lawl at the suckass pet names people come up with)... everything has been used. How about we make it more interesting? Twat, slutwhore, jizz-breath, fatass... I am especially partial to slutwhore, because it is quite catchy. "Good morning, sweetheart, I love you!" just doesn't have the same edge as "Good morning, slutwhore, I love you!"
The exception here would be princess, because no one has ever called me that. Princess Ela sounds precious. This would be better if you gave me a diamond-encrusted tiara, but cubic zirconia would work just as well.

Theme song. Assuming that we have the same taste in music, which is improbable because I do not have a musical soulmate, I would like to say this: I am not going to let a relationship ruin yet another good song for me. My ex already did that for The Fight is Over.
Instead, we are gonna pick a theme song that is so tacky (like Pangako Sa'yo), so common (Bruno Mars' Just The Way You Are or anything by Paramore, really—I FUCKING HATE PARAMORE), and so annoying (anything Miley Cyrus) that if we break up, I will never feel bad when hearing our theme song.
If we use, say, songs by The Cure or Fall Out Boy or Urbandub, I will feel awful when we break up because I wouldn't be able to listen to them without wanting to rip my heart out with misery over missing you. And you are not worth losing my favorite music over. Robert Smith/Pete Wentz & Patrick Stump/Gabby Alipe > Future Boyfriend.

Vices. Heh. This is a rather awkward issue, but it's really simple for me. You can drink, smoke, and get stoned. As long as you tell me, and as long as you don't go overboard, I am totally cool with it. See, I am gonna be an amazing girlfriend, I don't even know why I'm still single.
Seriously, though, I guess I'm cool about vices because I don't wanna be that girl who's all, "Hoy, bakit umiinom ka nanaman, wala ka talagang modo, nag-nag-nag..."
(Also because I probably drink more than you do, so I don't want you giving me shit about my vices.)

Now, I know what you're thinking: Damn, my new girlfriend is screwed up! But in exchange for you putting up with my fuckton of eccentricities and dark-and-twisty issues, I promise to be incredibly thoughtful, sweet, generous, and the coolest girlfriend you will ever have in your pathetic life.

Loving you with all the pieces of the black hole previously known as my heart,
Ela

This post is about Tumblr, but I am posting it on Blogspot. What what what

I told y'all about the meet-up last Saturday, right?

As I recall, it was sometime in June when I attended my first Tumblr meet-up, which was held at UST. It was the first day of classes, which made me doubly psyched that day.

Also, follow me on Twitter!

How crazy was it that I was so reluctant to go? The only person I talked to at first was Iyay. Then I met Becs and Nheykii, and the rest, as they say, is history. That afternoon, I eventually met a whole bunch of other people: Sieg (we played Frisbee!), Leo, Prex, DJGelo (who treated Nheykii and I to beer and liempo, teehee), Kuya Maxene, Andy, Tey, Zy, Kevin—okay, my memory fails me. There were too many people to remember. Don't feel bad if I didn't mention you.

Before, I was skeptical about meeting people online. Let's face it, we hear way too many horror stories about online friends meeting and then someone ends up getting kidnapped/robbed/raped/killed/tricked in some way.
Thanks to Tumblr, though, I met amazing people. Not only in real life; I talk to Phlip (from Cagayan de Oro), Vivien (from Cebu), and Jam (from Davao) on a regular basis. They be my LDR bbs.

Some want to quit Tumblr because it interferes with schoolwork. Hell yeah, it does. Backreading alone takes up the two to three hours I could have spent doing homework.
But I will never quit Tumblr because not only does it broaden my mind through thought-provoking posts, but the users are simply a-fucking-mazing because of their wit, intellect, talent, and uniqueness that I sometimes find absent in most people.
(last paragraph inspired by Abby's post)

On being a free bitch, baby

One of my best friends is currently going through a rough patch with her boyfriend. She is, of course, very sad about this whole affair and being the terrific friend that I am, I text her every day, asking how she's holding up, getting updates, that sort of thing.

Now, making this about me because this is, after all, my blog and I am entitled to self-centeredness every once in a while...
When she rants to me about her boyfriend, I could not help but think, Buti na lang wala akong boyfriend. No drama, no fights, no one telling me what the hell I can and can't do (my mom can't even control me, who the fuck do you think you are?).
Times like these, I am grateful to be single.

It's just like Peter Angelo said, "Ang dami-daming na ngang poproblemahin sa buhay natin, dadagdagan mo pa ba ng love life?"

(I won't say no to love once it comes around again, though. I think it's all a matter of finding the right person to whom you should open your heart.)
I digress.

Tumblr Meet-up at MOA (Or yet another example of how I suck at titles)

I had a life last Saturday! Yay!

Since I didn't know how to get to MOA, I met with Andy at the Quezon Avenue MRT station after getting lost several times. Seriously, my calves burned from going up and down the overpass and several flights of stairs—I have no sense of direction.

Anyway, when we got to the meet-up, I met a few new people. Yes, only a few, because my already endangered social skills seemed even worse that day.

The few new people I got to meet, though (Plaridel, Ran, and Hil, for example), were the ones I wanted to meet, so it was cool.

My I-only-just-arrived-after-commuting-and-walking-around-in-thousand-degree-heat face.

L-R: They didn't introduce me to this dude, Iskat, Rain, Andy, a really gorgeous girl named Ela (lulz), Sieg

I knocked back a couple bottles of Red Horse (yes, only a couple of bottles. Yay for non-alcoholism!) with Nheykii and Joseph, after which they convinced me to go karting in Boom Land, along with Cedie, Jason, Eeyah, Che, and Michael.

For my first time to go karting, I like to think I didn't suck. That is, if you don't count the two times I crashed. The second time, when I collided with Nheykii, it gave me large bruises on my thighs.
You guys. Karting. Is. Awesome.
I'm always saying that I would love to go drag racing. Since I don't drive and I don't have a badass boyfriend who would take me to such meets, the rush of karting was so amazing for me.

Afterwards, I went back to MOA and hung out with the rest of the Tumblr people, most of whom I didn't know and who decided to go drinking at Padi's. Since I didn't know them and I was too socially-awkward to introduce myself and there was no room for us at the table anyway, Andy and I sat on the stone walls and looked up at the stars and listened to Fall Out Boy because we are really cool like that.
(Man, that is one fucking long sentence.)

Bryan gave Prex, some dude who I think is called Gabe, and I a ride home. It was around 1AM when I got home and I was supposed to be home by 11PM.
*~rebel~* ako, lawl.

Hume-Helga sa blog about hair

And when I say Helga, I mean her. Not the blonde girl from Hey Arnold! who has a crush on Football Head. Which reminds me, my torrent download of Hey Arnold! is taking forever.

Anyway, about what I was gonna say...

I have been thinking of getting neon highlights in my hair ever since:

1. I saw Jenna Ushkowitz (Tina) on Glee
2. My friends spritzed on temporary color onto my hair
3. I watched Scott Pilgrim. (In my opinion, Knives Chau > Ramona V. Flowers, but they both equally rock the neon highlights, which I so want.)

But I'm not fair-skinned like them chickadees, so I dunno which color I should get.

If I had the guts to actually go through with this, I would probably pick:

• dark tulip
• pillarbox red
• atlantic blue

Oh, sweet lord, what I would give to be able to pull this off.

Shopping > Harry Potter

I cut my last two classes to meet my mom at Gateway with the intention to watch Harry Potter. In the middle of stuffing our faces at Taco Bell, however, my mom offered me two thousand pesos—in cash, clothes, shoes, books, whatever I wanted—if I agreed to shop instead of watching HP.
I FEEL LIKE I HAVE BETRAYED DANIEL RADCLIFFE. I truly do.

To ease my pain, I bought a pair of Lee skinny jeans and a black lace top that Mom calls *~goth~* but whatever I love it because it's black, both of which I might wear at this year's Paskuhan.
I also got:

Yay yay yay booklust! It's cheaper by P200 in Fully Booked than in Powerbooks.

From People Are People.
It ain't black, it's gray, so stop saying that I always wear black (even though I know I do).

Wedges! I finally got girly-girl shoes and now have a reason to paint my toenails.

And for all you Potterheads who want to send me Howlers for choosing shopping over the movie, let me just say this: before we went shopping, Mom further sweetened the deal by promising to give me money to see HP on Sunday. See, I did not totally betray the Order of the Phoenix. <3

Cliff

Everything ends.
Friendship,
love,
family,
friends;
I don’t believe in unconditional love.
Everybody has got to stop loving at some point.
You can do something to stop them loving you
(no guarantees that you will do it,
but rest assured, you can do something).
When that day comes, you will thank me for saying this.

Tongue ring *~is love~*

Today, I decided to do the thing I have wanted to do for a couple of years now.
I got my tongue pierced! Yay!

It cost P700 at Toxztattoo in Robinson's Metro East.
Some might find the price a bit steep, but it's worth it to know that I'm getting a safe procedure, not in some random, hepatitis-infested tattoo parlor from Recto.

I am especially proud because I went there all by myself, without a friend to egg me on. Granted, my friends were all busy so I didn't have a choice, but still, gotta give me props for doing this without someone beside me, right? Right?!

At Toxztattoo, they didn't use guns, which made me nervous because that was how I pictured getting my piercing. However, I decided to suck it up and go for it.
The dude used some sort of clamp on my tongue, then used this huge needle thingy to pierce it. I gotta say, even though the sensation was freaky—like, damn, some dude is putting a hole in my tongue!—it didn't hurt much.
Before I knew it, the procedure was over and, ta-da! I had a tongue ring!

Guidelines:

1. Take 250g of amoxicillin at least twice a day, every six hours (Tonight, I realized that I could not spell amoxicillin)
2. Take mefanamic acid if it starts to hurt
3. Don't eat solid food for three days
4. Only remove the tongue ring after two weeks

Truth be told, I was more nervous telling my mom about my piercing than I was during the actual procedure. Once I walked into the house, she rattled off a sermon, something like, "Bakit mo ginawa yan? Sinabi nang ayoko magpa-pierce ka eh! Tigas talaga ng ulo mo! Daig mo pa si Kuya Sean mo! Bahala ka, pag na-tetano ka, di kita ipapagamot!"
(Full of exclamation points.)

After she calmed down, though, she opened up to the idea of my new piece of jewelry. Knowing full well that I couldn't eat solid food for three days, she baked the frozen pizza and placed it in front of me.

Me: Oh, nagluto ka? Di ako pwede kumain!

Mom: Alam ko, iniinggit lang kita.

Metanoia

The Behavioral Science societies of UST, ADMU, and DLSU are hosting an event called Metanoia.

That's my classmate Paulo right there. Say hi!

There would be a fashion show in the program, and afterwards, dancing! Mingling! Party! Free-flowing cocktails!

And I have almost decided on not going.

Which is very surprising, because FREE-FLOWING COCKTAILS!!1!11!

Okay, I know I may seem like a *~wild~* partygoer, but in all honesty, I am not. Just because I am an alcoholic love my alcohol doesn't mean I'm always all up for clubbing.

What's more, even though the organizers said to wear anything, I highly doubt that you can wear anything. If I show up in jeans and a shirt, I'd be thrown out on my fat ass. 

My point is that I don't have an outfit that says "party", and I am not shelling out money just to wear something decent to an event where people dress to impress. Like Gab said, "Patalbugan ng suot dun." Better not to go and save my cash than to show up wearing my uniform: ratty shorts, a black shirt, sneakers.

I'm now thinking of other things to do on the 19th, including having a sleepover/Manila tour with the YC Buddies, go drinking with other friends (probably Robi and the gang, with whom I haven't hung out for a while), chilling at Padi's with Mojz, or watching a movie.

You know, while dreaming about the free-flowing cocktails.

Little Miss Liar

I won't say I'm a compulsive liar, because I'm not. However, I do tell a fair amount of lies, in particular:

• "Di ako umiyak." When I wake up with swollen, itchy eyes.
• "Di ako gutom." When I'm trying to save money by not buying food, and my friends are all eating. Best said with a casual eyeroll to indicate level of indifferent not-hungriness.
• "Nag-aral na po ako." When exams are approaching and my mom asks if I'm studying in my room, but in reality, I'm rereading Pugad Baboy instead of lecture notes.

But there are serious stuff that I lie about, even to my closest friends.

When I get hurt or am seriously down, I put on my best John Bender BAMF who-gives-a-fuck attitude, not letting anyone on to the fact that I am screaming with misery inside.

Pride, I guess, leads me to do this. My ginormous pride keeps me from letting others know that I get hurt, because I want to project the image of a tough chick. Never let 'em see you sweat is one of my life credos (the other being Eat now, regret later). It's completely ironic, because I tell my friends that there is no shame in crying, that it's okay to be hurt every once in a while.

It's highly disconcerting for me to have a friend who can see right through my badass façade. How do you fool someone who knows you that well?

When would I have to guts to show people, that I get hurt, cry, and am vulnerable?

Way to end the first week back to school!

The first week of school ended pretty well. Since the last professor for the day wasn't coming, Denisse, Gab, Kat, and I decided to go to SM San Lazaro.
We had lunch at KFC, where a bunch of noisy, annoying ten-year-olds were being noisy and annoying while waiting for their food. My friends and I marveled at how fast kids grew up these days (heh, that makes us sound like grandparents): I mean, the girls were all dolled up, with make-up and gladiator shoes. LAWL WHAT EVEN.


Then we headed to National Bookstore at my suggestion. I was pretty sure that they didn't sell most of the books I wanted to buy (Stories, The Solitude of Prime Numbers, Money, to name a few), but I wanted to check it out anyway. To my dismay, they didn't have Pugad Baboy 22, but look at what I did buy at NBS:

A notebook and pens for school, just like a *~good student~*

I have been looking for years for a black notebook, and here it is!
Will write in it with a silver pen and use it as a journal.

This copy of The Hunchback of Notre Dame is NOT the Disney version. It's Victor Hugo's original, dark tale.
Also, a huge shout out to Peter Angelo, who is in love with J.D. Salinger's The Catcher in the Rye.  I would have just borrowed a copy from him, but he refuses to lend his books. Selfish cunt.

We hit a few different stores because Denisse wanted to buy a gift for a friend, and we eventually ended up in the department store.

Rockin' the fedoras with Gab.

I tried on the temporary, spray-on hair color in the color red. They said it looked nice on me, and I quite agree. Must buy a can of that stuff.

Yay for good friends and fun days :D
(Smiley for emphasis on my happiness.)

Wild Mood Swings

So this week, my mood swings have been acting up worse than usual. Like this evening, in UST, I was pretty happy. On the jeepney ride home, I was so depressed I wanted to cry. On the tricycle, I cheered up again.

The weird thing is, I don't know why.
Don't tell me it's hormones, I know my riding-the-crimson-wave mood swings from the ones that genuinely make me miserable.
I honestly hope it's just adolescent angst, even though I'd look like a whiny brat. I don't want to be on an *~emotional roller coaster*~ for the rest of my days.
(Tildes and asterisks because it's so cliche, I can hardly stand to type it, but I am at a sudden loss for words.)

By the way, the title is a reference to The Cure, which makes me happy somewhat.

Movies, movies, and movies!

I spent my sembreak mostly pigging out, trolling on the Innernetz, and watching movies. Of all the movies I watched, there are three that made it to my "Oh my god I love that movie!" List.

Dead Poets Society

[photo source]

I loved this movie because I always wished to have a teacher like Mr. Keating, or as his boys call him, O Captain, My Captain: someone who is passionate about literature and poetry and uses that passion to inspire others.
The phrase carpe diem or "seize the day" was used frequently throughout the film. Keating's students took these words to heart by doing things they normally wouldn't have the courage to do, like asking a girl out, trying out for a part in a play, or just breaking out of his shell. Granted, Charlie Dalton went from daring to moronically rash, but he was such a hot BAMF that he was able to pull it off. Teehee.
Favorite quote:

No matter what anybody tells you, words and ideas can change the world. —John Keating

Closer

[photo source]

Some might find this movie tedious and uninteresting. Me? I find it fascinating, for the film leaves you unsettled with questions that trouble the mind for days at a time: Is love an accident waiting to happen? How do you go about achieving intimacy?

I was completely enthralled by the way the movie portrayed relationships. There are no black-and-white areas or hard-and-fast rules, only the vaguest definitions of love.

The opening line, Hello, stranger, set the tone for the characters' lack of intimacy with one another, despite the fact that they have plenty of sex. It goes to show that intimacy does not always mean sex, and sex does not always mean intimacy.

Favorite quotes:

I amuse you, but I bore you. —Alice

He tastes like you, but sweeter! —Anna

You think love is simple. You think the heart is like a diagram. —Dan

Honorable mention:

Fight Club, although every bit as good as these movies (some might say even better), did not make it to my list for the reason that I couldn't relate to the characters. 

Mmm, break me off a piece of that.

[photo source]

What I did love about it was the way it was fast-paced and interesting, never boring, never predictable. Every scene was packed with action, and not action for excitement's sake, but the kind that actually advances the plot and adds more tension to the movie until the incredibly constructed twist ending.

If you know any other movies you think I might like, I'm just a comment away!

Yay, Amex!

After a couple weeks of waiting, my American Express credit card finally arrived. Yay!

Forgive the bagong-ligo hair.

Finally, I can buy almost anything I want even if I don't have the cash on hand to pay for it.
Here's how it's gonna work:

1. I see something I want
2. I, like a good girl, ask permission from my mom to buy it
3. If I get the go-signal, I buy it
4. My mom would pay for it using the money she's gonna dock from my allowance.

Sure, it's got a measly P2000-limit, but I can deal. Most of the things on my very long to-buy list cost less than P1500 anyway (although I'm only supposed to use P1000 per month).

I will devirginize my Amex tomorrow, when I plan to buy Stories, edited by Neil Gaiman. Yay!

Oh, and I am excited because I am so materialistic, every time I go to the mall and see something I like that I can't buy, I die a little inside.

In my room, now!

Since a lot of my friends both IRL and online have not been to my house yet (not that I'm inviting you, lulz), I want to give you guys a tour of my small, cluttered room.

1. Artwork bag
2. Backpack I bought with my last boyfriend. Yes, I still use it, because it's pretty cool.
3. Favorite bag. Mom's 2009 Christmas gift.
4. First book in my favorite trilogy, Griffin and Sabine.
5. My BlogBerry planner. There, I write down schoolwork to accomplish (as if I get anything done), stuff that makes a day memorable, or just scribbles when I am bored (especially in my last Philosophy class).
6. Tampons.
7. Pugad Baboy 19. My love for Pugad Baboy is something that my mom, my dad, and I have in common.
8. Phoebe, my beloved Japanese Spitz. My mom bought her as a gift to me when I was a high school sophomore.

1. UST Architecture lanyard which Peter Angelo gave to me. Actually, he didn't give it to me; the cheapskate actually bought it and demanded that I pay him P120 when he handed it to me.
2. Denisse gave me a pair of brown sunglasses for my birthday.
3. White-framed sunglasses.
4. Midol, my savior when I am having menstrual cramps.
5. Jewelry box which holds MANY pairs of earrings.
6. A Gibo calendar. I'm still annoyed that I wasn't able to participate in the 2010 presidential elections.
7. Three awesome pairs of earrings that Aya gave me as a Christmas present last year.
8. Prom photobooth picture of me and my high school barkada, Yeah.
9. My favorite pair of Bench boxer shorts.

Ignore my reflection in the mirror.

This is supposed to be my study table, but it turned into a clothes hamper.

1. High school memorabilia: ID, commuter's pass, trinkets, pieces from old bulletin board decorations... I'm a pack rat.
2. Stuffed toys. See the visible one, the purple teddy bear? Her name is Cherry, and she used to have a limp but she has undergone surgery and is now able to walk.
3. Toys from my childhood that neither me nor my mom could let go of.
4. Books. I proudly display the ones that I bought with my own money: 1984, the Griffin and Sabine trilogy, stuff by Aimee Bender.
5. Religious books like God Allows U-turns and Daily Pocket Bible for Teens. My aunt likes to give me this stuff, and I read them, of course, but not as enthusiastically as I read the Harry Potter series which, incidentally, is hidden behind those religious books.
6. A painting I made when I was in sixth grade! (I am horrible at any attempt at creativity and art, save for writing.)
7. A Harry Potter poster.

There you have it. Maybe if you mosey on over to my place, you can chill with me here. Although I gotta warn you, we have three cats and two dogs, so if you're allergic/not fond of pets, you'd best stay away.

Why I blog

Nights like this, I feel like Blogger is my best friend.

I know what you're thinking: Ela, you are fucking insane and your life must be so sad that your best friend is a blogging platform. Go to therapy, you sick, twisted excuse for a person. 

So maybe I exaggerate a little. But honestly, when I feel like I'm engulfed in loneliness, I turn to my blog, where the words are my friends, and every minute I spend structuring my paragraphs is a minute I escape from overthought angst.

This is also probably why I don't want to switch to Wordpress: Blogger feels like home now. Its blue and orange theme is familiar and comforting and gives me a sense of purpose when writing, as opposed to the stark, unfriendly, cold gray of Wordpress.

Strawberry shampoo

Morning's a peach, so goes a song, and it truly is, when my eyelids flutter open and your warmth soaks through the blanket and I realize your arm is around me.
I wiggle, I wiggle again, gently—I don't want to wake you, you look ever so peaceful asleep—and look at you, taking in the quiet breathing. I know you're still asleep, but I put my lips on yours very, very lightly, and I taste cherry lipbalm: mine, not yours, remains from last night's intense make-out session.
My fingers feel slightly oily and I smell bananas and latex. Bright yellow wrappers litter the tile floor like confetti, and I spot a few condoms thrown carelessly under your bed.
(No, no, we did not go all the way; we just blew up the rubbers and played a little volleyball with them, and I love that I can be that silly with you, but I digress—)
Your hair smells familiar, the kind of familiar that I associate with my mom, and it hits me, that you both use the same strawberry-scented shampoo. In all triviality, I have to smile, that the two most important people to me use the same kind of hair product, and I begin to think that it was written in the stars, and I suppress a laugh at such a simple thought.


As much as I was saturated in the moment, though, I get nauseated by the fruit scents, and I broke the peace by sneezing, disgustingly, in the pillow.
Sorry, I whisper, unsure if you were awake. Go back to sleep.
Tis mmkay. I love you, sweet pea, you mumble, not even opening your eyes.
Aaah, on to vegetables now.

Burning cash

A few days ago, my mom and I went to Robinson's Metro East to shop for a few necessary items, including a new pair of school shoes for me. We ended up getting a hell of a lot more than we intended to. Yay!

School shoes from Sugus.

Girls in Trucks by Katie Crouch and The English Roses: Too Good to Be True by Madonna.
I finished the first one yesterday. The protagonist is a girl attracted to relationships in which there is no future, so predictably, I liked it.

Apple green shorts from Black Sheep.
I wanted to buy a shirt on which is printed a pair of lips puffing on a cigar,
but mom said it was too provocative.
K.

Wildly oversized ring from the department store.

Shirt from Jag.

Pretty flats from Janilyn.

A few days after we went shopping, my mom said I was a little more helpful in doing the household chores. She thinks retail therapy is all it takes for me to get going.

Mom, buy me a car and I shall be your slave *~forevz~*.