People? Thanks, I think I'll pass on that.

If you know me at all, then you'll know that I am not much of a people person. It is much more comfortable for me when I'm with a group of friends with whom I can be as noisy or as silent as I want, depending on my mood.

Having said that, it baffles me that my closest friends—Gab, Bru, Peter Angelo, Moj, perhaps even Babs (who, forgive me for the digression, has become one of my confidants in a short span of barely one month)—are the sort of people who enjoy the company of fellow living, breathing, talking human beings. How can my closest friends be my social opposites?

Charles  Bukowski has a quote about people, with which I agree very strongly:

I don't hate them... I just feel better when they're not around.

When I look back, though, I see that it's because of my more sociable friends that I have opened up to new people and encouraged me to do things I wouldn't have otherwise done (like applying for writing gigs).

Maybe I don't have to be as open to people as they are; however, I can take comfort in the fact that it is their differences with me that allow me to push my boundaries and have new experiences.

Un-birthday gift.

This morning, the rain was pouring by the bucket, so naturally, we assumed that our PE was cancelled. At that moment, Peter Angelo texted me, saying that his professor didn't arrive and asking if we could hang out. Being the scatterbrain that he is, he forgot his umbrella, so he asked if I would pretty please fetch him from España Mini Stop. We ended up spending the morning at McDonald's, eating Sausage McMuffins and catching up on the crazy-busy two weeks we've had.

While I helped him with his reaction paper, Peter Angelo was doodling on a piece of paper. The end result was an amazingly detailed pencil drawing—his belated birthday gift to me, because I gave him shit about not getting me anything for my eighteenth. (He was going to give me a copy of Lolita, but it was too expensive. Cheapskate.)

What was incredible about the drawing was the fact that nearly every single detail on that drawing was a reference to me and the things I like: sunflowers, The Cure, alcohol, Super Mario, even the phrase dark and twisty. I was touched because even without me telling him what to draw, he just knew the things that I love. The doodle is so me.

I had it laminated, of course, because I'm such a dork like that. Will post pictures when I get a chance to take a good shot of it, because it deserves to be seen and appreciated.

See also: My Best Friend is Amazingly Talented and Awesome.

Because he did such a nice thing for me, I decided to give him a little surprise. 

At the back of his notebook, I wrote a short letter and rather poorly drew a piano, a drum set, and a couple of cellphones (yay for inside jokes!). When we went our separate ways, I texted him: Check out the twelfth to the last page of your notebook.

See also: I am an Awesomely Thoughtful Best Friend.

Weight a minute.

In one year, I have gained around 5 pounds, thanks to endless weekend junk food binges and complete inability to stick to an exercise routine.

Now, every time I go to our house in Marikina, my family says, "Ang taba mo na!" Every. Single. Damn. Time.

To be perfectly honest, my weight doesn't bother me that much. Okay, so I gained weight. Big deal. It only ever bothers me when some of my clothes don't fit anymore. It only bothers me because of the way people react. "Tumaba ka!" they half-yell in an annoyingly condescending tone, with a matching condescending smile on their face.

As much as I'd like to say that my body image is unaffected by society's glorification of size zero women, I can't. All around us are pictures of ideal women: fat-free, not an inch of cellulite on their bodies.

On this occasion, though, I choose to stand up for myself, and say this loud and proud: I am one chubby bitch and if I want to eat chocolate in the middle of the night, then I will have my Twix, damn it!

Gotta squint to see the silver lining

I was feeling crummy when I went off to UST this morning. I don't know, perhaps it was the fact the the tricycle took fifteen minutes to get from the guardhouse to our apartment. Perhaps it was the fact that I arrived late for my first class, which led to my decision to just skip it. Anyway, I was feeling crummy. Hours later, I came home significantly happier than I had been when I left the house. 

Maybe it's true that you gotta look for the good little things in a day to make you feel better: a text from a friend I've been missing (hi, Peter Angelo), a professor recognizing your good work on an essay, a Wendy's Baconator, or plans with the YC Buddies to watch a UAAP game.

I hope that from hereon in, I will see something good about each day. A pledge of optimism.

Nine PM on a rainy Thursday

My shaking hands held a dingy, pale blue umbrella.

Philcoa! Mga Philcoa, babaan na!

Staggered off the jeepney, mumbling an apology to the lady whose shiny red vinyl shoes I stepped on.

Looked at my watch. It was already 9PM, yet the street was alive and bustling with activity. Vendors trying to sell more fruits and faulty umbrellas before they pack up for the night. Students and employees elbowing each other, running to board a jeepney, in a rush to get home and rest their heads on their comfortably warm beds.

Me, I was standing still as a statue. Staring straight ahead, into the numbness and nothingness that has seemingly consumed me. All around were the lights of fast food signs, and headlights, and brakelights, and every other kind of light, yet I was in a much darker place where superficial illumination could not reach.

The only thing I felt at that moment was the cold. The stinging breeze on my face—the stray raindrops on my feet—the metal of my umbrella—nothing was so real to me at that moment as the union of metal and plastic of the umbrella, keeping me safe, somehow, from the elements.

Little Miss Trust Issues

A few weeks ago, I decided that 500 Days of Bummer was way too unoriginal and impersonal for my blog, so I started thinking of another URL for my blog.

I wanted my URL to be more personal and not attached to some pop culture thing, so any music reference (The Cure, Fall Out Boy) was out. So were any movie and television references (The Breakfast Club, Grey's Anatomy).

After days of endless inner struggle, I decided on littlemisstrustissues because right now, that's exactly who I am. In four words, it defines me, it defines my blog. It sums up every fear and doubt and insecurity I have about the people around me.
Say hello to Little Miss Trust Issues and her scarily dark and twisty perspective.

A sudden intake of oxygen

Things that are bothering me right now:

• I have yet to submit the CD for my Logic completion requirement. I went to the Faculty Lounge this afternoon only to discover that my professor was off to Baguio and would not return until Sunday.
• My mom telling me that she wasn't happy. I think it's because most of the time she's alone in the house. Maybe she should move back to Marikina and let me dorm, instead. It'll be so win-win: she gets to have the company of our family, I don't get tired from commuting. A few problems with that solution: 1) she will never allow me to dorm because she doesn't trust me; and 2) we don't have space in our Marikina house to stash all our furniture here in San Mateo.
• My 2-gigabyte memory card is almost full. 400 songs is not enough for my music appetite.
• I'm thinking of changing my Blogspot URL. Unfortunately, sarcasmic has already been taken, so I'm back to square one.
• Babes is crazy over some famous dude named Wookie; when I tried to Google him, I came up with this:

On the bright side of things, this week has been pretty good so far.

• I had a Wendy's Baconator and Frosty today.
• I had quality bonding time with Babs last night.
• I got 1.75 as my prelim grade in Math. Not to brag, but that was me being lazy—imagine what my grade would be if I had actually studied!

Feeling niyo turista din kayo?

This is a crime scene. More specifically, a scene where a hostage situation has taken place, which has ended in bloodbath and brutal carnage. Oh, yeah, but you couldn't really see it because the way these guys right here are smiling, it looks like a tourist attraction.

Seriously? People got killed here. This right here is a scene of our tourism industry crashing down, a moment of international humiliation of our country, and you are fucking smiling? I just gotta ask, what in fuck's name is wrong with you that you can muster a smile at a time when the foreign survivors are grieving their traumatic experience?

Such insensitive douchebaggery of epic proportions! Shove those smiles up your asses, you damn idiots.

Down with Facebook!

My hatred for Facebook began a few months ago, during the start of my second year in college. During the summer, it was a way for me to maintain contact with friends who don't use YM, Blogspot, Multiply, Plurk, Tumblr, or Twitter (I have a lot of social networking sites because I didn't use to have a life). However, Facebook really started to annoy me when everyone made an account and started adding literally every single person they knew, including their friend's cousin's classmate's half-sister.

Suddenly, it felt like high school all over again. Unfriend-ing became an issue of "Why did she unfriend me? Is she mad at me?". Parinigan, a staple of pre-pubescent immaturity, was done through status updates. 

Change your relationship status from In a relationship to Single, and people you've talked to about once in your entire life will be like, "Bakit? Ano nangyari? Okay ka lang?". Do the opposite—change it from Single to In a relationship—and everyone's like, "Congratulations!" or "Yihee!".

An infinite number of pointless fan pages have also sprung up. Everyone's "liking" shit like I sleep with a blanket even when it's hot, TIMYAP: Tanginang Mukha Yan Ang Pangit, or the shittiest, the infamous I'm Awesome! I'm Awesome! I'm Awesome! I actually had more than ten friends "like" that shit. Seriously?

Moreover, I realized that I was "friends" with all these people about whom I couldn't care less, and they couldn't care less about me. Honestly, I could not give less of a fuck if my best friend's friend's brother has leveled up in whatever stupid game he's playing—I am ignoring his friend request.

I ain't no crazy confident chick.

Recently, I asked Bru and Babs, "Hindi ba halatang insecure ako?" to which they replied with a resounding an unanimous no.

I guess it should be flattering that they think I have confidence in myself, but the truth is, I am chock-full of insecurities. When I'm looking at a mirror, my thoughts go like this: My nose, pores, and mouth are too big. My right eye is smaller than my left. My cheeks look swollen. I'm so fat. I HATE MY HAIR (although not so much lately, because I had it rebonded)!

Me, confident? Confident my fat ass. 

The thing is, even though I don't exactly have the highest self-esteem, I manage to think positively about myself. On days when I feel lower than low, I try as hard as I can to find things I like about me, and focus on those instead of comparing myself to every single person I know.

Confidence is 10% hard work and 90% delusion. -Tina Fey

Fake it 'til you make it, that's what I say, and you'll realize just how fantastic you really are.

You, Me, and Annuities

I lay in bed with a pen in hand and an intention to finish a ridiculously long piece of math homework, yet as my eyes read the numbers and send the sensory information to my brain, the lines and curves change shape and re-form into a picture of you, drawn from memory. 

One cannot possibly study math and finance when stricken by a bout of heady love. Having said such, I pull a pad of paper to me and positioned my pen.

What shall I write about you? Should I expound on an infinite number of things I like about you? Should I explain in mind-numbing detail how I first started to fall for you? Should I express my admiration (which borders on obsession) in a poem, or perhaps a haiku?

I throw the paper aside and get back to doing my homework. Computing for annuity is so much easier than trying to put into exact words the overwhelming feelings I have for you.

One wish

Shooting stars falling from the sky

are dead stars. Lifeless

but renew hope in those who see them.

The clock on the wall shows 11:11

I close my eyes and make a wish.

My floor is littered with dandelion spores

and broken wishbones.

Countless flowers have

shed their petals—the timeless game of "he loves me".

Fingers always crossed, deformed over time

I spent, wishing for you.

Taken from my Multiply.

Blur

The past few weeks have been a happy blur, flying by so quickly that I was surprised to realize that August's end was fast approaching.

Last night, I was worried about my friends, a lot of whom were experiencing different personal problems. It was a relief to see them doing okay today, though I guess that, like most people, they don't show it when they're down.

Bru accompanied Babs and I to Trinoma. We were going to buy stuff for our exposure trip this weekend. It took us several hours because we kept going to different stores in search of a yellow T-shirt that I really wanted, during the course of which the two of them informed me that I was brand-conscious. I denied it at first, of course, but after a few feeble arguments, I realized that they were right. I didn't just want sunglasses, I wanted Ray Bans. I didn't just want a shirt, I wanted one from GraffiTee or Team Manila.

We took a break from shopping to sit down near a fountain, where I took the risk of relating to Babs about the whole incident with my last ex-boyfriend (which my friends couldn't seem to stop referring to whenever the topic of bad relationships comes up). To my dismay, I don't think he appreciates how hard I found it to tell him that story.

Anyway, speaking of our exposure trip, our class is going to Subic for a nature trip. Zipline, hiking, jetski, banana boat, night swimming, karaoke—here we come! It is going to be so much fun!

We're supposed to be in UST by 5AM, so I might sleep over at Babs' Dimasalang place with Oscar, Gab, and Paula. Dear mom, please let me I am going to sleep over there whether you like it or not, because I am eighteen now, damn it! Just kidding. Love you, mom.

In other news, lately, I've been closely observing the PBA Finals because my mom's team, the Alaska Aces, has a shot at the championship. Tonight, Alaska won, which made my mom, and subsequently, me, very happy.

I have yet to finish my Logic completion requirement, so 'til next time, dear reader who wasted time on my crazy, poorly-written crap known as a blog.

Chipped Nail Polish

Irrelevant title.

Today was a pretty good day. 

This morning, I had PE (handball). To my delight, I actually got the ball in the goal not just once, but at least three times. Yay, me!

I spent the rest of the morning helping Babs with his English homework for a fee of P100. I should have done it for free—he is a close friend, after all—but he offered to pay me before I could even think about it.

I also saw Peter Angelo at TYK, after two weeks of missing his company. Yes, I am a very needy person who needs constant companionship.

Also to my surprise, I got 56 out of 90 in my History prelims. It may not be much, but in Sir Mabahague's class, as long as you pass, you are awesome.

To top it off, had McDonald's dinner with Bru and Babes.

This day was full of *~gOoD ViBeS*~.

Birthday gifts. Check 'em out.

Wonka Nerds from Zy

A bead necklace from Yel.

From Bb Chan. He gave me this as a joke, but I took it home anyway because it was so cute and tiny.

After some thought, Babs and I went to the original name of Danilo.

Sunflowers and roses from the YC Buddies

My Friday the thirteenth

Days ago, I decided to have my birthday celebration on Friday, a day before my actual birthday. That morning, I was predictably hyped for the fun that was to be had.

It started in the morning in our classroom. I sat down and chatted with my friends for a little while, when Bene pulled out a bouquet of red roses and beautiful, bright yellow sunflowers (yay!) from the YC Buddies. I don't shed tears of joy, which I think disappointed them. I really do appreciate the gesture, though; it's so sweet and thoughtful.

Denyang gave me a gift, too, which she forbade me to open until I got home. It was a pair of sunglasses.

It made me happy, seeing that my friends knew what I wanted.

My birthday high died down a bit when I was taking my Industrial Psychology prelims. I studied, but I had a bit of difficulty, especially since I left my glasses and home and had no way to see the multiple choices written on the board.

For lunch, my blockmates and I went to Trinoma to eat at—where else—Yellow Cab. 

Since our barkada was formed there on my seventeenth birthday, we wanted to make it a tradition. My birthday, August 14, is also the YC Buddies' founding date, so it was a double celebration: eighteen years of my existence and one year of Ava, Aya, Kat, Gab, Ressa, Denyang, and Paula trying our best not to kill each other. ♥

One year.

We played a few games in Timezone. Babs (not to be confused with Babes) arrived with a small paper bag in hand, to my surprise.

Babs wanted to name it Danilo.
We settled on BJ, for some unknown reason.

He was going to give me a Super Mario figurine, but Clipper didn't have any of those. It's been less than a month since we met, but I don't really know how he knew that Mario is my favorite cartoon/video game character.

That night, Bru, Babs, Zen, and I headed to Padi's Point in Araneta Center to meet my Tumblr friends. When I sent out the text invitations, less than ten people replied, so imagine my surprise when more than nineteen-fricking-people showed up. Of course, after losing count of how many drinks I've downed, I didn't really care that I didn't know some of them.

The bill, though, killed my buzz. P3528. My budget was P2500. Holy shit. I had to ask them for money, which was utterly awkward and embarrassing. If I weren't tipsy, I might have passed out from the sheer humiliation.

After billing out, I wasn't ready for the night to end, so I suggested that Gab and Babs spend the night at my place. It took several minutes of me and Babs incessantly guilt-tripping Gab before she gave in.

The three of us watched 500 Days of Summer *sniff*, then we shifted into sleepover mode and talked about our families, love lives (or lack thereof), and scary shit like ghosts and third eyes.

Gab fell asleep fairly quickly, so it was only me and Babs who stayed up talking about anything. Everything, actually. 

After muffled laughter, whispered talks, and silent pillow fights, the two of us fell asleep, exhausted, at 5:28 in the morning of my birthday.

It was one of the best days I have ever had.

Infinitude

The warmth of your kiss, the squeeze of our hands—

It was all fleeting.

Pulses racing frantically, shallow breaths taken, rapidly, rhythmically—

They would all slow down. The moment was marked with impermanence.

I pulled away to steal a glance,

and that fleeting moment of meeting glances

turned into a heated gaze,

the friction palpable in the silence.

It was only in that fraction of a second 

that I saw the possibilities 

of forever, of eternity,

of infinitude.

Eighteen.

Ever since I was sixteen, I have been waiting for the day I turn eighteen. For me, it was a milestone: I would legally be an adult, and basically have the freedom I so very dearly long for.

Nearly two years later, as my birthday approaches, all I can think of is how I've spent the last seventeen years of my life.

As soon as August hit, I felt shell-shocked by the realization that I can't remember anything in my life that might be deemed noteworthy. I have wasted my teenage years bitching and whining about every little thing, that I haven't even stopped to look at where I was going. Stunned, I now realize that I am nearing adulthood yet I might still be the same immature, selfish brat I was back then.

Eighteen. *sigh* Why do I feel so old all of a sudden?

Anyway, to lighten the mood, I am posting eighteen things I want for my birthday:

• Matthew Moore's Rare Prints Ray Ban Wayfarers

• A surprise party thrown by my mom.
• A small surprise, at least, by my friends. Even a chocolate or mango crunch cake would do. It's the thought I'm after, not the food.
• Pass all my subjects' prelims
• Peter Angelo's Coming Home painting inspired by The Little Prince
• A 300-peso Fall Out Boy shirt from that shirt stall in SM Fairview
• Anything Fall Out Boy, actually (especially Pete Wentz—mmm.)

• A huge box of Ferrero Rocher chocolates
• My mom to stop making such a big deal of me drinking
• Anything Super Mario

• The silver, razor blade charm bracelet from Bench
• Completing my collection of Pugad Baboy comic books
• A copy of Carrie by Stephen King, which is unavailable in a lot of bookstores—and believe me, I've checked
• 20th Century American Architecture by Sydney Leblanc, a 575-peso, non-technical book on American architecture

• A small, cute, preferably yellow car with rounded features. Not a Volkswagen, though—something in this generation, please.
• Braces, while I'm still single because if I get a boyfriend, I wouldn't know how to kiss with metal in my mouth.
• A new pair of school shoes. Mine have braved the floodwaters of España, and they might be at the end of their life.
• Cute, unusual earrings.

Greedy bitch.

On the last week of July, and first few days of August.

I'm starting to believe that pain—physical, emotional, what-have-you—truly does fuel art. When something good happens to me, I'm not as keen to write about it as much as when something bad happens to me. 

The past few weeks have been a tiring albeit happy blur, and I want you guys to see me happy, not just when I'm being a sad, pathetic, needy bitch.

• July 26. Moj, one of my best friends, and I met in Gateway. To be honest, I was a little nervous because we hadn't seen each other since summer vacation; what if we had absolutely nothing to say to one another? (Okay, to be completely honest, I feel that every time I meet Moj or Peter Angelo, which baffles me because they're among my closest friends.) Turns out, I got stressed over nothing, as usual, because it felt so fine to catch up with one of my best friends ever that the stories just kept on coming and coming.
• July 27. Played billiards for the first time, thanks to my blockmate Kevin, who taught me is still teaching me. I am constantly surprised by the patience he has shown at my ineptitude, but then again, he's the one who suggested that we play, so he ain't exactly in a place to complain.
• July 29. Ate Crepe Cones for the first time. Slept for only three to four hours, thanks to Kevin, with whom I talked on the cellphone for most of the night.
• July 31. This.
• August 2. Was a total klutz at the library. My legs got bruised when I tripped on a stepladder, I fell down half a flight of stairs, and I bumped my head against a glass window. :|
• August 3. Peter Angelo gave sold me a UST-Architecture lanyard for P120, which should have been free because WE ARE BEST FRIENDS, YOU CHEAPSKATE. Also, we played a game of handball (duh) in PE, and even though we lost yet again, I had lots of fun chasing the ball around and trying not to slip in the mud.
• August 5. Woke up at 2 in the morning because of menstrual cramps, and spent more than an hour alternately throwing up in the bathroom and writhing in pain on my bed. See also: why I'm in a horrible mood during my period. This was also the day that I lied to my mom for the umpteenth time, and whiled away the night in UST, chatting with Bru, Zen, and Kevin. It was so much fun: we mostly talked about our screwed-up families, and I was amazed at how easily we opened up. Now that I think of it, it reminded me of The Breakfast Club.

Though we're nowhere near as cool as they are.

Will you look at that right there? I actually have a life outside the Internet, ladies and gentlemen.

I got cash to burn.... Well, my mom does, anyway.

Saturday was supposed to be my NSTP prelims. I was in the car with my mom, and we were already in Banawe when I received a text message saying that the NSTP was cancelled due to the UST server failure (surprise, surprise).

Miffed at the hassle of waking up early but also relieved that I had time to study some more, my mom and I went to Trinoma to burn cash. And burn cash we did!

We had lunch at Conti's, where the waiter reminded me so much of Drix. I had roast beef with mushroom sauce again, and I was so full afterwards that all I could say was, "Haaaaaay, sarap."

More than five hours later, we arrived home loaded down with shopping bags. My mom bought two pairs of cute ballet flats and called it quits—that was enough splurging for her. I, on the other hand, bought all these:

(Photos not mine. I would have taken my own using my cellphone, but the cable connecting the cellphone to the computer is broken.)

• A shoulder bag from Artwork with a pig print
• A Little Miss Writer shirt that I have wanted for months, from The Perfect White Shirt

• A blue shirt from Tomato that would go well with my Von Dutch sneakers
• A bottle of Mutya nail polish called Panglao Dive, a glittery gunmetal gray color
• The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake by Aimee Bender. I'm reading it at the moment and I'm already a quarter of the way through. It's really absorbing, well-written, and original. Will buy more of her books soon.

I also wanted to buy This is Where I Leave You by Jonathan Tropper, but they were out of stock. Boo!

As long as we're on the topic of splurges, I just have to mention this:

These are a pair of Matthew Moore-designed Ray Ban Wayfarers. It's part of a limited edition collection called Rare Prints, and I think only Sunglass Hut in Gateway carries the line. It costs a whopping 9 grand.

When I first saw it, I was like, dayum, I will buy those! But then I realized that I only had P11000 or so left for my birthday money, so... maybe I'll just buy myself a more affordable pair of shades, even though I have a  lust for designer sunnies.