Status Check V.2

A mermaid of old, not an apple cheecked pudgy little cupid, but a dark goddess of the watery depths. A celebration of feminine evil in the form of drowning. The fideal sings as she walks through the reeds, calling out to her next lover...leaving you down in the water's cold depths. Eyes unseeing, weeds in your mouth...---Brian Froud

And so it is
Just like you said it would be
Life goes easy on me most of the time
And so it is
The shorter story
No love, no glory
No hero in her sky

I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you

And so it is
Just like you said it should be
We'll both forget the breeze most of the time
And so it is
The colder water
The blower's daughter
The pupil in denial

I can't take my eyes off of you
I can't take my eyes off you

Did I say that I loathe you?
Did I say that I want to leave it all behind?

I can't take my mind off of you
I can't take my mind off you
Until I find somebody new

-Damien Rice-

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It's not fun anymore...to have sadness engulf you...when before you were sure that you could pull yourself up when it gets too overwhelming...when now you can't move and you drown...when now everything's hazy...when every movement around you is too fast...when your own drags on and every single movement seems to last forever...when you feel left behind...when breathing is too painful to tolerate...when you realize your only savior is helpless...and that savior is yourself...when the only thing you want is to turn your back away and to please not watch yourself suffer...

At one point in you life you will wish or would have wished you were dead. I don't know, I just think it's sad when you don't care to make the effort to Desire death anymore...

When you just simply Welcome death.

I hate you.

Girl Talk? Anybody?

The thing I like about going out with my high school friends (who I would call the JIMs, named after the tree in school that we hung out under of. James Marshall Puno. We call it JIM) is that I never get bored with the stuff we talk about.

Conversations with normal girls are very tedious. That's why I avoid normal girls in particular. The perky, popular, makeup-festered-faces, overly-vain-feminine type of girls whose conversational skills are limited to fashion, boys, gossip, boys, fashion...are you getting my drift? I don't mind those things but one can only tolerate up to a certain level of the barrage of worthless information (who they're dating or were dating? who's breaking up, the new shoes on display at so-and-so, who's got a crush on who, when is a skirt classy and when is it slutty...blah blah blah blah blah...yakity yakity yak...). But of course you can' t have everything so you adapt and pretend to nod in interest, insert a carefully timed "oohs" and "aahs". Bless them for they notice and they think of you as the "cutest" thing ever and secretly think "what is wrong with her?". Kudos to some of them who are considerate enough to respect the difference and still want to be your friend.

Back to my JIMs. Sitting with us for lunch, or tea, or dinner would be an experience for anybody. Consider this:

1."Hey I was watching a documentary about China. In China, they have Rat Wine," says Pie. To which Terry replies, "Oh yeah. I think I saw that. Don't they make Penis Wine as well?" Fact or fiction? Apparently it is a fact. My fit of laughter combined with choking disabled me from hearing what kind of penis the Penis Wine was made of.

2. Pie, a med student, is ecstatic that they're learning how to do circumcisions. Kylie interjects with a heartwarming tale about a man, his appendix, and his penis. "I heard this story from a doctor. During an appendectomy of a 29 year old male patient, the mother went up to the doctor and said that her son was not yet circumcised and if he could please include the procedure during the operation. And then the night after the operation, the guy got an erection and the stitches on his thingy were ripped open. Question, wouldn't the aftermath pain of circumcision be doubly painful because the thingy is bigger at his age?"
Pie, forever deadpan, said in an even tone : "He won't notice the pain from there (points to her crotch) because the pain from here (points to an approximate location of the apendix) would be too overwhelming...and Kylie...there are no stitches."

3. Kylie was talking about hamsters. She had three. They were the cutest things ever. She said that if the mother gives birth again, she was going to give all five of us (and even FedEx one to SK8 who is in the US) one little critter. Therese, the law student, in her most legal tone announced, "I hate rats. I hate cats. I hate dogs." Sara comments, "Aww, Therese hates animals." To which the Legal Beaver replies "No. I hate everything living. (and in a tone of self-discovery) Hey...I hate life!"

That's just a little taste. I love my friends.

Today wasn't any different. Pie is now taking a subject on OBGyn stuff. She asks us to take note of "important things" for future reference. Apparently, (and girls, ladies, women, and everything else feminine, you take note too) during the first Pre-Natal checkup a doctor is going to be really nosy. And if you know what's best for you, you HAVE TO answer all the questions embarassing or not... take a look:

1. When did you lose your virginity?
2. How often do you have sex? Please indicate the specific frequency.
3. How many times per day?
4. How many partners do you have sex with?
5. What contraceptives do you use?
6. Do you climax?
7. At the average, how long before you reach orgasm?
8. How many times do you climax? How long?
9. What paraphernalia do you employ?

Apparently...all these things are important for future pregnancies. Yes it is true. It's in a legit textbook.

While we're on the topic...we had a lengthy discussion on Cancer.

What is the difference between a woman who has Breast Cancer + Uterine Cancer and a woman who has Breast Cancer + Cervical Cancer?

Did you really think the answer will be medical in nature?

The former gets NO action. The latter gets TOO MUCH action. If you get my meaning...

Brief explanation.

Uterine Cancer is a result of pregnancy not taking place. When a female ovulates, the uterus expects fertilization of the egg. And when that does not happen, sometimes stuff gets complicated (as always in most cases) and tumors are born. Hmm...excuse me for not getting knocked up.

As for Cervical Cancer...do I really need to explain? What part of "TOO MUCH action" do you not understand? Hmm...excuse them for their very potent sex drive.

Come to think of it, either way you're doomed! You can't not do it, and you can't do it. Nature is cruel.

It's also 90% true that I may be prone to Breast Cancer because it is a fact that this type of cancer can be caused by lack of hormonal release (i.e. sexual tension).

Hmm...punish the virgin why don't you.

To Waste Virtual KBs with a Morbid Nonsensical Thought & a Resolution

I’m at my place of work a.k.a. the 8th Circle of Hell:6th Bolgia .

I stood in front of a paper shredder and was mindlessly pushing one page at a time into the opening. I listened to the raunchy sound that was the result of paper meeting the rolling blades of the shredder.

I think of my hand going through that space.

I can see the blood spurting, the bits of flesh spilling onto the surface…onto the floor.

I hear the sound of my bones being grinded.

And everyone would hate me because I jammed the stupid machine.

Happy! Happy! Joy! Joy!

Déjà Vu

Five years ago, at the age of sixteen, my world was thrown into upheaval. I was confused about everything and everyone. It was a stupid and awkward stage especially for someone like me who has lived all her life within the walls of an exclusive educational institution run by penguins...alright nuns. When I say confusion, I'm talking about what every perverted male brain fantasizes at some point in his life. By that time, I had went through 10 years studying with nothing but girls, girls, and yes, girls and not once---not ever---did I fall into the trap of lesbianism as is common with other environments such as it was. But for one single school year... that's 305 days, that was the only time in my life that I ever questioned my sexuality. And the only time I ever looked at a girl differently.

It was confusing. Man, I deliberated with myself to mental exhaustion. And that was because of one girl. This weird loner girl who wrote words so intricate and insightful with the obvious passion for the art of writing, who played the guitar while I pounded on my keyboard, who would sit with me in one corner to marvel at Billy Corgan and Kurt Cobain, who would make me laugh my ass off, who put up such a strong challenge in my debate class, who could quote the poems of tortured souls verbatim, who read books as if there was no tomorrow to read them. I've only had few moments in my life wherein I allowed myself to conjure images of what the perfect guy would be, and there it was...everything I had envisioned...only it was a girl. It scared me shitless when I started to really...like...her. This shouldn't be a surprise now --- I immediately shut down on her --- always a constant. Gone was the comfortable feeling, gone was the closeness. She was just a casual friend, a classmate, an acquaintance. It was good enough to convince myself that I never did once liked her as more than just a friend. This drawing back was logical though. This girl made me question my preference. I was a full blooded hetero who was suddenly presented with a very significant conundrum :

"Would I be open to the fact that if there is such a thing as that 'special connection' with one person...would I be open with the idea that I can find it not only with the opposite sex, but with the same sex as well?"

I was clandestinely smitten up to the very end. It was really tough (and I have to say this with a notion of disgust) as well as heartwrenching to act aloof when all I wanted was to delve deeper into that mind that was so reflective of mine. I'm sounding like a narcissist right now, but it is an infallible theory : we are attracted to other people because of that homogenous qualities that you share.

In the end, I gave myself a mental kick on the ass.

Smart and intelligent as she was, Algebra it seems was her Waterloo and she didn't graduate in time that year. During the first day of graduation practice, and the last time I would have seen her for not until 3 years afterwards, I dropped the pretense. In our mutual hate of our school's tendency to condition us into acting in an organized way of what they think is appropriate, we found ourselves sitting in one corner just like we did for what seemed like a hundred days ago...and talked about the usual stuff, the books we've read, the works we've written, the music that rocked, the movies we've seen, the world we hate, the few things we loved.

And as the day deteriorated to hours, to minutes, to mere seconds before we would say goodbye and she would wish me good luck...I coldn't help but think--- I missed out on that...that bond that could have stood the test of time. Granted that I'm certain now I wouldn't have let it get past friendship, but still. It's not everyday that you get to meet a kindred, a being that marched to your own rhythm which you have always thought only you can hear.

I didn't meet anbody that was in any degree comparable to what I saw in her for the next couple of years. And that disturbed me. We are an endengered specie, but surely somehow in some considerable propinquity one of us exists.

Such a waste. And it was my fault. My paranoia. My habit of killing any emotion inside me before it started. My fear of being rejected. My fear of being let down. My inhibitions. Serious loads of shit baggage that I still carry around up to this living breathing day...

Five years after...and I fear it's starting all over again...

and this time the problem of lesbianism is out of the picture...

IT inhabits the appropriate sex.

It's scaring me that I'm starting to back away...that I'm tumbling into the same downward spiral that I found myself in Five years ago. It is my nature. And as evidence that I have learned from the past, I am trying hard to go against it.

When I start to see myself in that bleak position, an open wound, an open target, hit me where it hurts right now and I will no doubt break down...

FUCK, IT'S CRAMPING MY STYLE.

Status Check V.1

...she said, "I can't take this place I'm leaving it behind..."
...she said, "I can't take this town I'm leaving you tonight..."

BJA

Hole in the Wall, where all secrets are kept...

Have I mentioned before that I find it very irritating when I'm accused of being cold and uncaring...of being heavily guarded...incapable of feeling...more so when I am actually being the exact opposite.

Are people that emotionally dumb that I have to spell everything out?

Fine. You know what...

F-U-C-K-O-F-F.

Good riddance...

If you can't see it...if you can't feel it...if you even have to question it...doubt it even...then maybe you're not up to par of who I thought you were and what I thought you were capable of.

Not everything has to be said. It is in the understanding of what is unsaid that true connection can be borne out of.

Don't dissapoint me...

2004 Series : Mid - August

It took me four years to realize that the reason why I hang out with the people I consider my real "friends" was not because we were alike. It was deeper than that. I was drawn to them because they are exactly what I hate about myself. I don't hate them. That's ridiculous. It goes down to this simple realization. These qualities I abhor about myself...from my tendency to be obsessive compulsive, to my bipolar inclinations to be superior sometimes and inferior the next, to my being anti-social, to every oddity and eccentricity in my bones...somehow when I see it in them, I am unexplainably attracted and drawn to them. So why is it that I can't bring myself to like me?

Breaking the Saddle...(for the umpteenth time that is)

Another year, another blog. Bring on the onslaught of rantings from the complexities of the mind of a madwoman. As always, this will again stand testament to the fact that as I grow older, I become more immature, naive, impractical, and foolish compared to the level I found myself in when I was thirteen. I'm going senile and I'm only twenty-one. What a loser.

Intros.

I'm a refugee from another blogsite. They kicked me out...locked me out of my page...all my previous works, which I poured every possible body liquid onto (drool, spit, whathaveyou), went *poof*...and now I have to start from scratch. (Although...some of it survived. I shall be posting them soon.)

I'm not complaining. It's a good thing actually. There was a temporary period of insanity mid last year, and I've gained some of that sanity back. Took a few slappings and attempted drownings on myself to shake it off, but it's under control. I'm heftily medicated, and I don't do spontaneous beheadings of innocent passer-bys anymore.

We shall see. Oh, yes...we shall see.