What Happened to the Weekly Project

Maybe I bit more than I could chew.
This year was the first time I've made New Year's Resolutions, and it's almost half the year and I think I've pretty much given up on completing them.
One of these would be the 52 Weeks project, which, frankly I speaking, ended after a month. It's depressing. But since I can't blame myself, I'm pointing fingers at school and its emotional, mental, and physical demands. So really, who could blame me for not completing the said project, right?
It's not to say that I didn't try though. I've taken pictures every now and then of my day, but documenting your life every minute is really exhausting! The photographer life needs some getting used to.
I've got a new phone though, so maybe, just maybe, I'd go back on track with the project, posting snippets on my 4th year (yes, 4th year!!!! I can't believe it!!!) college life.
With that, here's what's happened over the past 5 months:

1. A new home. 
2. Designing a poster for an event that didn't push through.
3. Socializing! 
4. More socializing!
5. I passed by this view every morning for two years. It's not the same now that I'm in a dormitory. You can't see your *end goal* literally. 
6. The occasional dress-ups
7. Two things happened: a haircut and the beach
8. Ventured into calligraphy and watercolor lettering. 
9. Somebody gave me heat reservoir socks for cold nights. :)

Five months, and nine blog-worthy pictures. This is both embarrassing and depressing. Hopefully I get to take more pictures and keep this blog alive!

52 Weeks: 2

1. My family went to the local fair! Too bad that it was raining. We only stayed for a short while.

2. However, I went the night before with friends. I think I rode every ride I wanted except this.

3. Funny price signs. 

Sorry for the very late post. I was unable to take other pictures of the week due to tech problems so I guess that leaves me with only the pictures of the fair. However, that's fixed now and I got pictures up for Week 4. Yey! 

52 Weeks: The First!

Finally, a blogpost! I've always wanted to do a 52 Weeks project, but I wanted to do one that started at January. So I waited for n months for this project to happen.

The mechanics for this project are fairly simple: Post four photos of what your week was like throughout the whole year.

I hope my pictures aren't so horrible for you guys to stop reading my blog, because I think these are the only posts I'll be posting in the future. Oh well.

1. Happy new year from the obligatory (and only good looking) fireworks picture I took.

2. ... and yes, my fingers are still complete.

3. Made a resolution to start putting flowers in my dormitory. So I'm recycling coffee cups and jugs and mugs and all other random vase substitutes to hold cheap flowers. Flowers make me happy, even if they die after a while.

4. My break in a nutshell. 

House help relationships

I can't stand house help.
Sure, I love what they do: sweep the floors, wash the dishes, make your beds and sometimes cook up a meal. But other than that, I despise them.
It's nothing personal to be honest. I have no grudges towards any of the helpers I've previously had. But most of the time, they don't last. The last time there was one present in my house was eight years ago, and she didn't last long.
Here's the thing. Their job is to keep everything clean, make sure nothing is a mess. So with that said, they're constantly on the move, arranging things, touching your stuff. And I don't like that. I don't like leaving a room with a book on a table and coming back to see it gone(alright that's exaggerated, but you get the point).
You see, I think most of them believe that whatever can be moved, stored, and hidden should be moved, stored, and hidden. Whatever's not a piece of bulky furniture is a mess. Like, I know it's a mess but at least I know where my stuff are!!!
One time, a helper stuffed a stuff-less stuffed animal in a drawer because she thought it was a rag. That was quite traumatizing.
Aside from that, I don't like being around a lot of people. Home is where I get to be my ultimate ugly self and the only people who are allowed to see me at that state are my family. So having a helper around is quite uncomfortable.
I honestly believe that househelp is one of the best things that can happen to a household,but for people like me, I'd rather live in a pig sty than be with a stranger.

100 Things to Write About: Birthdays

Birthdays never really end up the way I plan them to be. Your birthday was no exception. I was planning to celebrate it by myself, probably eat a slice of cake and mope about you not liking me. Basically the same things I was doing in your past birthdays.

This year was different, though. It’s not that I didn’t want to celebrate your birthday, or that today wasn’t special. It’s just that today felt ordinary, and I was rushing in and out of classrooms to bother about feelings that should have been dead long ago.

I take this as a sign from the universe telling me that you are no longer worth the cheesy blogposts, tweets, or the poems that I write. Maybe this is finally the time where I realize that I am finally over you because suddenly your birthday does not feel like a holiday.

So congratulations on being nineteen and travelling around the world and being ridiculously handsome. But I guess I’d have to congratulate myself too. I guess, probably, I’ve moved past you.

This calls for some cake.

The Summer of 2014

The summer of 2014 is definitely not one of the best summers ever. I’d like to explain and report everything to you, dear reader, but I’m afraid I don’t want to (which is quite ironic because I’m keeping a personal blog about feelings and things). It’s not that I don’t really want to. It’s mostly because I’m not sure in how to put everything into words, and whether now is the best time to divulge certain things.

To start off, it was a summer full of changes. And like I’ve said in my past posts, I’m not really good with change. Some things happened in a way that I knew they would happen, but I just didn’t realize that they would happen then, or how I felt in ways far more than I expected myself to behave. I didn’t realize a lot of things until that summer, and yet, in a way, I was waiting for that summer to happen for all my life.

I hope this is enough of an explanation for the past three months of silence. And I hope you’re not tired of reading my entries.

I’m staying in a dormitory now and updating will be a bit harder because of college, but here goes nothing!

Until then.

The Summer Checklist

My sister has a psychology term for the two types of people in the world. Basically, the type that needs lists in their life and the type that could care less. Guess which type I am.
But seriously, I can't live without lists. I need paper dedicated to list-making (like the one in the picture) or electronic documents in bullets, just to see which task or object must be accomplished first.
And with all that said,I'd like to tell you that I have made a list for summer.
"What? A list? For summer?"
"But summer should be about unplanned events! Summer should be something quirky and spontaneous!"

Uh, thank you for your inputs of what summer should be, but, uh, no thanks. The Summer Checklist seems like a good omen for summer, in hopes that I fulfill most, if not all, listed in the list. The List is important because if you're like me, most likely, if it's not written down in a list, then it doesn't exist and it's not going to happen.

So here's the list, in no particular order.

1. Get sleep. Get lots and lots and lots of sleep because when school comes you won't have any. 
2. And drink a lot of water too. 
3. Speaking of water, head to the beach. Or pool. Whatever floats your boat.
4. But don't forget the sunscreen because although it may look like a tan now, it may end up being skin cancer in the future. Protect, protect, protect.
5. Read a lot. Read everywhere because this is the only time you can read without worrying about having a pop quiz about it the next day.
6. And probably do a little summer cleaning. This means throwing out everything you don't want. If you're considering of throwing something out, then you should throw it out.
7. Get a job. Or make a business. Just do something to earn a little something.
8. Rediscover yourself. I bought a coloring book. This summer is going to be pretty exciting.
9. Do not think about your grades. I repeat, do. Not. Think. About your grades.
10. Watch a lot of TV series because who has time for that when school comes? Not me.
11. Make a summer playlist. If you don't have an idea, you can take inspiration from mine.Breath Me(Four Tet Remix)- Sia, Lights (Shook Remix)-Ellie Goulding, Settle Down (EMBRZ Remix)-The 1975,Only See You- Janet Labelle, Buzzcut Season- Lorde,You're the Best- Wet, I Wanna Be Yours- Arctic Monkeys

*most of the content of this post is dedicated to me, tbh. Much apologies if they're not to your liking

On Leaving

I hate it when people I care about leave or move away from me.
They tell you things like "No, it's not you." or "I've got some issues to solve for myself." but you're not really sure if they're being a hundred percent honest with you when they say that they need to drift away or transfer and stuff.
I guess this is just bitterness, to be honest.
I'm not a very clingy person, so when I cling to someone, then that person is really special because that doesn't happen very often. And because I get so attached to said person, the leaving becomes a bit harder to cope up with, in comparison to the regular non-clinging friendship.
Every person leaves for different reasons. One leaves by taking up a different college major from me, another leaves by transferring schools, and another leaves by just not being what we were being. I tell myself "I'm happy for you! You're doing what you want to do.You're doing what makes you happy!" but that's not totally the case. I end up telling them "Don't go away. It's such a waste." or simply (and desperately) "Don't go."
I tell myself that what I'm feeling is genuine concern, that I don't want them to leave because I see the potential they have in staying the same place where I am, but that's not totally true. Maybe a part of me feels that way when I say those lines, but most of it is driven by selfishness. The reason why I don't want them to leave is because I don't want to be left alone. I don't want them to leave because I don't want to go back to square one and start making new relationships to replace the old ones that don't need to be replaced. I don't want to make an effort in catching up with each other because then I'll be clingy and I don't want to be clingy.
I just... don't.
And I hate this selfish feeling. I want to be someone who can understand and accept the leaving, to be happy for these important people who are making their own journeys in life. I can't explain how hard it is to want to let people go but also anchor them beside you.
Friendship is hard, man.

The Doors We Close

Today, I did something that I always thought I'd never do: I locked myself out of a house.
I was just going to the neighborhood store, to get something to eat while doing schoolwork. With some cash in my pocket, I locked the doorknob and closed it behind me, only to realize that I forgot to bring the keys with me.
The shock hit me like a cold wave. I turned to the door slowly, and prayed that everything I did for the past ten seconds didn't happen. Twisting the knob, I held my breath. Clunk, clunk. I was shut off from the inside.

Good thing I have a relative who lives nearby, otherwise I would have been staying in front of the house for the whole day. The thing is, the experience was some sort of metaphor for me. It made me start thinking of the many 'doors' I have closed and locked in my life. Oftentimes, these doors are relationships and opportunities, some doors being open, as they are always present in my life. The doors that are closed are relationships that need to be rekindled, and those that are locked are the ones that I can never return to.

There aren't many open doors in my life. I have a tendency to close each door as soon as I see another one open. I'm not good at keeping friendships alive, I'm not good at catching up and all that jazz. Once people leave, they're closing the door to my life. Sometimes it stays that way.

Sometimes, the doors we close are the ones that we just open for a moment, and seeing that behind it isn't what we want, or what we expect, so we close them immediately, not giving it a second look. The doors remain closed, and what lies behind them are never fully discovered because of a nasty first impression, or because they just didn't make much of an impact. Sometimes, when you're looking for something, they hide behind that closed door, waiting for you to find them, to open the door and pick them up. To say something as silly as 'Found you!' and lead them out. But the door stays closed and we end up looking for things that aren't what we were looking for in the first place but are good enough (although the thing with good enough is that it's never good enough).

Sometimes, the doors we close get locked up for various reasons. Sometimes, we lock them on purpose, or by accident, or we are locked out. We lock them up, never to return to the room it leads to, hoping that what it contains never gets to you. Most of the time, these locked doors are conscious choices, thought hard about and mentally debated. But sometimes,these doors happen by accident (like what happened to me today). When you realize your mistake, you turn the knob, hoping that by the nth turn it becomes unlocked. Or you bang the door and scream, thinking that whoever is in the other side can hear, hoping they open the door, knowing that it was a mistake. And maybe, in a desperate attempt, you break the door, thinking that everything will be OK. But it's not because there's obvious damage, and shards and splinters all around. Yeah, it's open. But it's not the same anymore. You tell the person at the other side "I'll fix it" but you both know that the 'fixing' isn't going to do much, and then you realize that maybe it was a bad idea. Maybe you should have kept the door locked.

Oftentimes, the doors we close are by choice. Some are good decisions, and some are bad. But the thing about these doors is that although you have closed and locked some of them, there are a whole lot of open doors waiting for you. It's basically up to you whether to keep them that way.

The Valentine's Day 2k14 Playlist

This may seem really late, but I had to post a Valentine's Day related entry because I made one last year (kinda like making a tradition, or something like that), and also because I have nothing better to post.

Here are the songs I've been playing on repeat last Friday. I hope they are to your liking.

Crave You (Flight Facilties)-Daniela Andrade (4:12)

Like I Did- Gina Cimmelli (4:16)

I Was A Fool- Tegan and Sara (3:31)

Little Person- Jon Brion (4:02)

Young Folks (Peter Bjorn and John)- Dawn Landes (3:27)

I Still Think About You

I still think about you even if I tell myself that I don't anymore, which is a bummer because if my brain doesn't listen to me, who will? I've tried hard to stop, to be honest. I close my eyes every time I pass your school, so I won't end up analyzing the features of every male dressed in a student's uniform, looking for your signature features. I hid the class pictures you and I shared, and I'm this close to blocking you from Facebook (which is a pretty bad move, because everybody will know that I'm trying to forget about you, and I don't want them to think that way even though it's true).
I think the problem about forgetting you is that I don't know where to start. Most people tell you to cut off connections right away, because that's where it all begins. Like taking out weeds, where you uproot them  because without their little capillaries of life sucking out all the minerals from the soil, they'd shrivel and die. The problem about forgetting you is that there are no roots to uproot, no direct spot to target. The part in my brain dedicated to you is very abstract, where the lines are blurred and the colors are smudged into different colors. You don't know where it ends, much less where it starts.
So I still think about you, even though it's poisonous and sad because I know you barely think of me. I still think about you and your stupid green shirt, and the way you lost weight over the year. I still think about why I never said the things I wanted to say, and why I don't feel remorseful for not saying them.
You're there in the rain, when the weather is gloomy and gray. You are there in flash floods and little rusty tricycles. You are there in little notebooks with cheap padlocks.
You are still there.
And maybe, to start not thinking about you, I have to accept that you will always be there. Maybe accepting the part that you will never really go away is the first step- the fact that you may be significant now, but in a certain time, you may not be.
You are a part of me in a sense that most of my pubescent years were dedicated to you. And in order to start another stage of life, your part has to end. It may be slow, but I'm getting there somewhere, somehow. And one day, I won't be thinking of you anymore.

The Walk to Your House: A Short Story

I knew it was a bad idea to head out my house at twelve in the morning just to see how you were doing.
I forgot to grab a jacket and scarf on the way out, and was walking down the wet pavement with nothing but flip flops and shorts, and a t-shirt too. I should have changed, I told myself. I should have thought about myself before I did anything for you. But like everything that involved you, my body went on autopilot, desperate to please you, desperate to be with you.
So I wrapped my hands around my arms, hoping that they would suffice as substitutes for jackets or cardigans or other clothing used for warmth. My cellphone juggled in my bottom's pocket, holding the text message you sent me ten- no, five- minutes ago.
"Where are you? Let's talk."
That's all it said and it was enough to make me leave everything I was doing- to jump off bed and sneak out of my house. To forget what happened three months ago.
I thought we mutually agreed that we'd never talk to each other again after what happened the past few months. Like how you said you needed space and how I lied that I needed some too. But then you send a text like that- who do you think you are, to send texts like that to people you haven't talked to? Who are you to tell people what to do?
Like everything that involved you, I was an idiot. Like how I gave you cash when you were 'running short', or when you needed that ride somewhere and I was your plus one, when really, all you needed was a ride. I'm still trying to find out how I fell for it though. Maybe I was blinded in more ways than one, or maybe I was just insecure and happy that someone finally noticed me.
Maybe by doing all those stupid things, you would consider me worthy of you.
Maybe, just maybe, you'd want me back after this walk to your house.
I let out a sigh, and pushed my hair back. I was halfway there. It wasn't a long walk. We used to walk to each other's houses and climb up our bedroom windows, sharing secrets that we promised we'd never tell anyone. Then the visits slowly disappeared. We'd then agree to just meet up midway our houses, the waiting shed by the bus stop, every nine in the evening. That was our routine, until  it became just my routine, you giving out excuses that you had homework, or that you were tired. I was tired, and I had homework too, but I was there. So why weren't you? Until now, I still don't know.
Before I realized it, I was standing in front of your porch. Your lawn, to be exact. I could feel the wet grass on my feet, mostly because I was wearing flip flops, dammit. Your bedroom window was the only one with a light that night. Your parents usually slept early, exact opposites of you.
I was contemplating if I should climb up your window, like the way I used to three months ago, when you were sick with fever and feeling lonely. But then again, I remembered that there was a reason why that happened three months ago, and why that can never happen again. I punched in your number in my phone, my fingers automatically finding the keys that made it. I never really forgot it, though I convinced myself I did.
It rang multiple times, until the operator told me that you were busy. So I rang again, and again, and again. And still, you didn't pick up.
I rubbed my left eye with the back of my hand, as I could feel the tears coming in. You used to say that you hated it when I cried. I sighed again, and sat on the pavement, not caring if my bottom was going to be wet. I was cold, from being practically naked in the cold spring air. You weren't going to pick up my calls. And even if I was in front of your house at 12 something a.m., you weren't going to come out of your house and welcome me in like you used to.
Then I heard something open, and you called out my name. I turned and saw you at the front door, smiling at me.
You invited me in. You acted as if we haven't been not talking for the past three months, like nothing happened. But after you gave me a cup of hot chocolate, you asked me "Why are you here?"
And I, being the idiot that I was, showed you your message. "Because you said so," I replied.
I could see your face turning red for me, and then you looked away. "That was supposed to be for someone else."
I knew that was coming but I came anyway. I wanted to tell you that, but I didn't because I was stupid and young and desperate. Instead, I smiled and thanked you for the hospitality, and ran back home, and hid under the blankets, telling myself that tonight didn't happen.

And then I woke up.

An Excuse for Inactivity

I haven't written for about 6+ months, which is kinda weird seeing how this blog is almost a year old and barely has ten posts in it. So much for being a keeper of everything that's changed.
I've somehow convinced myself that if I got a journal I could make it a more private way of holding my thoughts. I did get one though, and I even wrote on the first few pages. I haven't added a new entry for about three weeks. I don't think that's very good if I'm making keeping track of my thoughts regularly as a New Year's Resolution.
The thing is, I keep telling myself that I'm just being lazy. But there are times when I do take an hour to sit down and put my journal and a pen in front of me. Nothing comes out. I pick the pen, open the cap, and flip to a blank page, but the pen doesn't come in contact with the paper. Is that laziness? I don't think so. I've already put it out, but I'm still hesitating to bring out whatever's in my head.
I've considered a lot of things that have given me this writer's block- probably stress, or maybe I'm too tired. It's only recently that I've admitted to myself that I'm afraid of putting my thoughts down.
Probably it's funny, how putting down how you feel can be so frightening. It's supposed to be therapeutic, so it's not supposed to scare you, right? But the thing is, I find it scary. The thought of immortalizing the dirtiest, darkest parts of you on a piece of paper or on a blogging platform is probably one of the biggest things that can make my chest feel heavy and make me squirm in my seat. Maybe it's because when it's all in your head you can convince yourself that you've confused your feelings with your imagination-probably with a TV series or a depressing book. When you write it down, there's no turning back. You've verified and acknowledged that these feelings are real and that they exist somewhere deep inside you. You cannot deny it- it's in your nature no matter how hard you try to hide it.
I'm not sure if I should apologize or not, and if I do to choose to apologize, who would it be? To my readers? To myself? I don't really know a lot of things anymore. I'm at this point in my life where I don't know where I'm going and who I want to be. I don't really know who I am anymore. I've lost track of the goals I've set in mind, and I'm not sure that my thirteen year old self would be proud of me.
So much for keeping track of everything that's changed.

Time vs Distance (a poem)

Time vs Distance

Time is more cruel than distance

as distance can be overcome

But time can never be brought back

Time slowly eats away

the people we once were.

Time changes us, 

Distance does not.

Time, the wretched human concept, 

Has created a distance

that no boat can sail,

that no bird can fly,

that no horse can gallop through.

Time has changed

what has become

of you & I

-P.A.A.G

On Computers

As I'm writing this entry, I am sitting in my school's computer laboratory, leeching free internet. Apparently, the only reason why I'm writing this is because my university blocked the other fun websites and the only thing enjoyable to do is to write a blog post. To be honest, the mere thought of using flat screen computers equipped with the latest software excites me. I blame my high school for giving me this feeling.

I don't hate my high school. In fact, it was a very good school for my little island, and it gave me very fond (and not-so fond) memories that I will probably cherish for the rest of my life. However, it was quite financially deprived, and had to find ways on how to maximize their budget in order to give quality education to its students. I'd like to believe that they stuck to the 'quality over quantity' mantra, but I guess when you're running an establishment, you have to make sacrifices.

Apparently, they chose to sacrifice our Computer Science education.

The computers in our computer lab were not of the best quality. They were ancient, boxy machines with screens that somehow seemed to bulge a bit. The keyboards were of horrible quality, with the keys so hard that you had to jab them with your finger before a character appeared before you. The software, although supposed to be fast, hanged up and had numerous glitches. I could write about all of the struggles I experienced with computers there, but then that would be too long, and besides, we somehow managed to get through with it anyway.

Probably staying in a room full of lag-y, boxy computers made me long for a computer whose screen wouldn't turn yellow after five minutes. Probably looking at something that was big and ancient made me appreciate the ones that were thin and sleek.

But maybe that's just me.

16 Things I Should Have Done When I Was Sixteen

I was watching The Pacifier and then there was this scene where one of the kids is part of The Sound of Music. He plays Rolf and then sings a line from 'Sixteen Going on Seventeen'. Listening to the familiar beat of the song actually perked something inside me, like it was something I should remember. The song was basically a soundtrack of my last six months being sixteen, and almost every seventeen year old girl quoted a line from that song in their Facebook profile picture that celebrated their seventeenth year on Earth.

Which makes me ask the question: Was I too excited to be seventeen that I forgot to enjoy my sixteenth year on this planet? Maybe I was, or maybe I wasn't. I don't know that for sure. But I will post sixteen things I'm sure I wish I did back when I was sixteen so that some sixteen year old girl will try her hand on these things (but it's alright if you don't, though I'm sure you'll wish you did when you're seventeen).

1. Wear trendier clothes. Because when you're sixteen, dressing up like a ten year old is not the least bit cute. Nuh-uh, not at all.
2. Watch American TV shows like Glee, The Vampire Diaries, 90210, Pretty Little Liars, Revenge, and the list goes on and on and on...
3. Get piano lessons. Just because.
4. Learn how to socialize with others and not stick to the room's corner/wall/couch/soft drink dispenser.
5. Learn how to eat like a human being and not like a dog disguised as a person.
6. Buy a shoulder bag then learn how to look good with a shoulder bag. If you're going to stick with a backpack, you HAVE to wear only one strap and make the other dangle from behind. Wearing both straps will make you look like a nerd. Also, do not put much inside your bag, even though you know your bag is capable of carrying a number of things. A bulky bag makes a nerdy and awkward student. You do not want to be nerdy and awkward.
7. Finish one big tub of ice cream. By yourself. Brain freeze is acceptable.
8. Wear a bikini because when you're old you'll have wrinkles and then wearing a bikini is just darn disgusting.
9. Talk to boys. Gosh, they're not some foreign, alien creatures. They're just the opposite sex.
10. Sing 'Sixteen Going on Seventeen' with me as Liesl and a guy friend as Rolf. On video. No ifs, no buts. If he refuses, then friendship over.
11. Spend less time on Facebook and more time having fun.
12. Join Sinulog and have fun with the street party and get paint and dirt all over me.
13. Have a karaoke contest with friends.
14. Tell that one person you like since forever that you like them and not care if they'll reject you or not. If they like you, it's cool. If they don't like you, it's cool.
15. Have a Disney Princess and Nicholas Sparks movie marathon in one setting. 
16. Trust someone. Don't overthink, don't overreact. Let them take care of you, and if everything goes wrong, it's OK. It happens, life happens. It's better than haunting yourself with the possibilities.

The Janine Tugonons of the World

A goddess. That's what Janine Tugonon is to most people in the Philippines. She's both beauty and brains, having placed first runner up in the Miss Universe 2013 pageant, winning the hearts of Filipinos all over the world with her witty response in the Q & A portion, photogenic face, and- let's admit it- her super hot, ultra mega sexy body.

But even though she is a goddess, she dated a mere mortal. An ordinary guy, who wasn't really what you would call the most conventional type of handsome. Yet they were together for a year. It was like a Cinderella story, only male version. Cinderello. Hahaha. Okay.

But their seemingly love story came to an end when an international band member of The Script, probably Janine's all-time favorite band, came to the Philippines for a concert. Being the big The Script fan that she is, she obviously went and even met her idols! What's more the lead singer asked for her Twitter. Aw, how cute. 

Janine then breaks up with her boyfriend because she and her idol are sending each other direct messages in Twitter and she realizes that she's more attracted to her idol that she met only once than the boy she's been with for one year.

And that was how their unconventional love story ended.

I'm not going to chastise Janine's actions that much. Most of the people in the internet have, and I think this Facebook page's photo perfectly expresses what I really feel of the issue (it's in Filipino though, so if you can't understand Filipino you could always use Google Translate or whatever). I guess I just can't really be mad at Janine because of two reasons.

1. I don't really know her except that she is a beauty queen and a goddess.
2. I know people who are like her. She's not the only one who's like this.

People judge Janine for what she's doing to her boyfriend, but I think the main reason why she's receiving so much backlash is because they realize that they have met somebody similar to her.

There are girls (and boys!) who make you feel like you're the one, but leave when they've met someone better. They break your heart into tiny little pieces, then crush them on the ground, then expect you guys to still be friends. They tell you about their latest eye candy how wonderful, loving and cute they are together without even batting an eyelash.

They tell you they love you, but you know that deep inside they love themselves more. And you can't do anything about that. You're the one who'll have to love more because they know that they are wanted. They know that everybody loves them. You tire yourself out trying to catch up to their needs and expectations, only draining yourself out dry and realizing that your efforts have gone to waste.

You can't really win when you're in a relationship with one of the Janine Tugonons of the world. 

It Will Pass

Just because you'll try to understand somebody doesn't mean you always can. There will be a time when you will get tired of understanding others when no one understands you. You try to give without asking anything in return until you're flat out empty and drained physically, mentally, emotionally.
So you try to understand them some more, giving out a piece of yourself every time you do, hoping that someday, someone will understand you the way you understand them.
But that never happens. And you've given yourself away so much that you've become a ghost. A ghost of a person they used to know. You can't regain what you've lost. So you deal with it, hoping that it will pass.
But will it?

On Vday

Usually, when people know that you're single on Valentine's Day, they automatically assume you're bitter and ask you to join the Anti-Valentine's Day Movement.

Well, I've been single on Valentine's Day for seventeen years, and I've never really felt bitter about it. Maybe  because I like the holiday. I may not receive sweet nothings, chocolates, and other tokens of a person's affections, but I like looking at people who do receive them.

I don't know. Just because you're single, you don't have to hate on people who aren't. And just because you don't have a Valentine, doesn't mean that Valentine's Day is going to suck. It's a fun holiday, with love all over in the air. The least you can do is enjoy it while you can.

And if you don't, well, just boycott VDay altogether.

Happy Valentine's!

On Filipino E-books

I guess you've all heard of Wattpad.
If you haven't, it's a website that hosts stories made by their members, whether they be original or fanfiction.
Basically, everybody who's been on Fanfiction.net moved to Wattpad, so thanks to Wattpad, Fanfiction.net is pretty empty.
Anyway, a large number of Wattpad users are, not-so surprisingly, Filipinos! They've coined the term 'Wattpaders' for themselves, and most of their stories are written in popular Tagalog/Filipino, the kind of language used in everyday conversations.
Most of the stories are actually read via phone and are called 'e-books', which are actually just different text files (like PDF, .doc, and .txt files) of the whole story. They are then read via cellphone or whatever electronic device available.
How do these stories become so popular? Simple. They're shared via Bluetooth to one friend to another until the story gains so much popularity, it hurts.

Anyway, I actually have a thing for these Filipino e-books. They're kind of like a guilty pleasure of mine.
The stories are so light, and the narration so relatable, you can't stop reading.
But then there comes the part where authors need to have an editor for their stories.

I recently finished one e-book that I honestly thought was amazing until the ending. Everything was so good, so real and relatable, then- BAM! Stupid cliche events. Stupid plot twists that don't contribute to the growth of the story at all!
I felt so cheated! I was actually thinking "Man, these e-books are pretty funny. Sometimes they're better than all those really pricey novels", but I was so wrong! Just when I thought that I had found an alternative to my craving of Meg Cabot-ish chick lit, I was wrong.

These Filipino e-books are actually nice, if you turn a blind eye to everything cliche in them, and if you want a light read when you're commuting home. But trust me, if you're a fan of the written word, don't trade your novels for these babies just yet.