Dear God,

I'm feeling very guilty right now due to the fact that I'm fussing over this pimple I have on my chin when a few kilometres away, someone we both know is lying in the hospital, struggling.

Also, I know I've been doing nothing but talk about myself and my life (or lack thereof..) in my blog and I feel very bad about that. My blog's aim is for me to look at myself 20 years from now and I'm not sure if future me would like the fact that I advocate vanity, albeit indirectly.

Today I'm asking You to heal him. To make him realize that there are hundreds of people who'd want him healthy and happy. To make him feel that everywhere around the world, people are praying for him to be fully restored into good shape once again.

I'm no longer asking for something material (and it's taking away every inch of pride I have in me) for my birthday, but I just want You to make him well. (But well, if You still want to give me something aside from that.. *smile)

If there's something I learned about being a leader and being Your daughter.. it's the fact that above all, loving and caring is what's important.

I may be new here in my service in the Philippines, he may be even newer (seeing as he graduated less than 2 weeks ago).. but no one's in the community new enough to be loved less.

Thank You, Papa God.

Love,

Me.

A birthday wishlist.

I'm turning 16 in less than a month and if there'd be something that would make me super happy (aside from a return ticket to Qatar), it'd be a Harry Potter themed gift.

I'm a self-confessed Harry Potter junkie, and with it nearing its end.. all I'd really want is to have someone, anyone even, give me something that's related to the magical world.

I'm still mentally berating myself why I'm placing this here, where no one really ever read anything I write (except me, and well, less than a handful of other people) especially since I could do it on Facebook or Tumblr, but that's what makes this extra special.. I'd be the happiest girl on my birthday if someone did find the time to go over my blog, see this entry, and grant me my wish.

I'm feeling pretty shallow for actually demanding something that should be given without pressure, and more importantly, I'm feeling very embarrassed. I'm not one to give subliminal messages, heaven knows no one has any idea what I'd want for my 16th, but I guess it's just a very important day for me and I'd want to spend it with a very integral part of my journey as an adolescent..

Here I go again.

Wish granter? There, I said my wish. Just something Potter-related. A song, a poem, a wand, anything..

Please?

Sweet Sixteen

I've realized one thing, and I hope someone makes me believe otherwise before I start fully living my life knowing this as truth: It's better to be a pessimist.

There's one rewarding thing with being one, it's when you believe that things'll get worse but they don't. Being pessimistic, therefore; in a way, means hoping for the best but expecting the worst. Once again, hoping comes first. At least when you become one, you'd expect less, get disappointed rarely, get hurt almost never.

But that would be living a lie.

I don't know, at this point in time I'm probably in the middle of a hanging bridge where my heart tells me one thing but the brain tells me another.

The heart's telling me to believe and to continue to hope.

My brain's telling me to listen to no one but myself.

I guess sweet sixteen isn't as sweet as it's ought to be.

Infomercial

This is nice.

And.. despite my general pessimistic view of the world today, this actually made me smile.

The tattoo isn't necessary, though; but whatever floats your boat..

Black sheep

It's bothersome how you can feel yourself change once you're brought into an unfamiliar place. I've been feeling that change, and no matter how much I try, it's trying to forcefully twist me in positions I've never been in and bring me to places I never knew I'd see myself go.

Recently, I've been trying hard to say "I'm fine" and convince people that even I am convinced. But when I find myself alone, I realize I'm not. I realize that I miss where I came from. I realize that two months ago, at this time, I was genuine when people asked me how I was and I said "I'm fine."

I can only confine my feelings to my writing because I don't like talking about myself vocally, so I'm going to say this here once; no explanations, no misgivings, no second thoughts..

"No. Right now, I am not fine."

There would be better days.

"You have a life, too."

My friends' passion in life is to make me realize that I'm not some mindless drone and that once in a while, I should think about myself, too.

I guess it's some kind of complex I have. You know, obsession-compulsion that the lives of people around me should be better with my help even if mine is in shambles.

My life is very slightly dysfunctional right now.

"I'd say FML but that's so 2009" would perfectly encapsulate this post, but I don't say FML. And it's not me to say things like that.

I don't mean to demean myself, but..

I just realized I have no apparent talents - especially when it comes to music.

I can sing but I can't belt, I can play instruments but not be amazing at them. I can't figure out a melody in my head, I can't memorize chord sequences, I can't play the guitar without getting hurt (or hurting someone)..

Basically, I'm a completely talentless freak when it comes to something remotely close to music.

The only musical talent I have is growling, which is actually nowhere near music and talent since it's more of a noise produced when you have sore throat.

No, don't get me wrong. I love music, and once in a blue moon it tells me it likes me too, in some magnitude..

But that fact makes me even sadder. I want to have a permanent relationship with it.

Because I just had to include something Potter-related in my blog

I'd Be Easy...

For Ronald Weasley.

It Can't Get Hotter...

Than Harry Potter.

Be My Big Boy...

Draco Malfoy.

I'd Have It Rough...

With A Hufflepuff.

I'd Jump In Bed...

With George And Fred.

I'd Have A Fiddle...

With Tom Riddle.

Fancy A Smack...

Sirius Black.

Do It In The Mud...

With Cornelius Fudge.

Source: http://nerdfighters.ning.com/forum/topic/show?id=1833893:Topic:914334

Oh my goodness, aside from the fact that I'm almost entering college, my insecurity about getting old is getting bigger because of the harsh reality that is slowly making its way towards me: The inevitable end of Harry Potter.

I can't believe that more than a decade has passed ever since I received my first Harry Potter book (which was The Chamber of Secrets); I can't imagine how these books zoomed in front of me, inspiring millions of people along the way. I remember how I'd resort to reading your books whenever I had a bad day, or how I'd close my eyes and imagine what it feels like to apparate and just release myself from the captivity that is reality.

I'll miss Harry Potter's decision making and leadership, Hermione Granger's stubborness, Ron Weasley's incapability to be rational at times..

I'll miss everyone in your world, Harry.

Forever your fan,

Me.

P.S.: I'm still waiting for my letter of acceptance..

The early morn of 26MAY10

I was walling (see: means of facebook communication) with a friend earlier and one thing dawned on me: I am old.

I mean, I can't believe that at this current state I'm in, I could manage to go all "Oh, that's so high school" when I encounter something that I associate - however slightly - with the school level. Time does a pretty swell job in accelerating.. who knew high school would become but a blink of an eye?

Geez, I guess I've finally stumbled upon the fact that time does not wait for anyone. It rushes on, never pausing for anything, not even to take a breather.

Now I'm exceedingly frightened by the fact that before I know it, I'll be all "Yep. That's what I did during college."

Gah, I cannot even start to imagine. It brings me involuntary shudders to even think of it.

Maybe, just maybe, I'm a bit scared of growing up. Peter Pan's lucky he didn't have to think of these stuff. Maybe that's why I love him.

It amazes me how my writing

can both help me and destroy me at times I feel most vulnerable.

I write because it's part of me, but what I would want right now (and I mean this in the most sincere way, although this *is* the internet and you are given the permission to doubt my sincerity) is someone to talk to. Someone to pour this unsettling emotion, someone who'd listen and not judge, who'd just make me talk until I run out of steam, who'd make me realize that I'm not a complete lunatic who cries and laughs and talks about it in her blog..

I need someone real. I love writing, heaven knows it's one thing I know I'm pretty good at, but right now, I need someone who'll just let me talk but isn't inanimate; who'll just allow me to rant but isn't a blogging platform.

I have friends, I have many, in fact. But I don't want to burden them with my burdens and overwhelm them with my sudden gush of emotions.

Which is why, for now, I'm sticking to blogging.. while I pray that someone might listen to me.

He was most things I promised myself I hated.

He was self-righteous, a pompous ass, a know-it-all, a dog-phobic and a bully. It's like every inch of him was shouting at me to stop staring, stop daydreaming and just continue to live my life as if he wasn't already a part of it.

But it was his presence that was so intoxicating.

After all, even if he were most things I hate, he were some things I loved, too. He was smart. He was dedicated, loyal, amazing with instruments, and he made me laugh. More importantly, he sat beside me that night, erased all awkwardness between us, and just talked. About school, about life, about the world and everything in it.

It's amazing how I can hate his very presence one moment and be infatuated with everything he is the next. I don't know how he does it, or if he knows I'm hopelessly sucked in..

..but I'm not willing to let go. Not just yet.

This is one hell of a roller coaster ride, and I'm dangling off the edge, but I'm going to see how it goes.

"..."

"You can't be serious.." I said, with tears threatening to fall down like Niagara Falls. I had to stop them, though.. so I bit my inner cheek until I tasted rust, the taste of blood.

"I wish I weren't," were your first words. "I wish we'd both wake up tomorrow morning laughing because nothing that's happened tonight had been real."

"It's kinda stupid, no? How you detested this place during the earlier part of your stay.."

"..until I met you."

I exhaled loudly and it shocked me, I didn't know I was holding my breath then. I did the next best thing a friend was obligated to do, wrap my arms around your shoulders and pat you at the back, desperately fighting back tears, desperately losing..

You held both my hands with yours, squeezed it then leaned back to look me in the eyes..

"I'm not leaving," you said.

"But you just said you were."

"I'll," you released my right hand.

"Always," you raised yours.

"Be," you pulled me closer.

"Here," you pointed at my heart.

Then you kissed me. It was haste, but I felt it. My lips still tingled every time I recalled that memory.

Now, I'm going to kiss you.. and although you're in a coma for 5 days now, I know you'll feel it.. I know you'll wake up, I know we'll both remember that night when you said you'll always be here. With me, beside me.

You never left me. You came back, it was a long wait.. but we both struggled, and in the end.. we both succeeded.

Now, please come back.. I'm here, I'm waiting, just like those times I've waited for you when we were 16. I won't leave you..

I love you too much to do that.

As the waters cover the sea..

Tomorrow we have our youth camp, and I am feeling a quiet kind of excitement. One where my brain's in ecstasy but the more rational's part just taking everything in, sinking, feeling love, and giving it in return..

__________________

So your blood covers me..

Needless to say whenever I look at pictures of YFC Qatar a pinch still manifests itself in my heart. I miss them, it's not the kind of missing someone where when you say "I miss you" everything falls into place. No.. it's the missing where when you say "I miss you", it means "I miss you even more everyday."

__________________

Guiding me on roads unknown..

Accompanying my arrival to a new place is reacquainting myself to the surrounding. Making new friends, loving new people.. it's all pretty new, and honestly: it's terrifying. It terrifies me so much that I might be different from who I was back then. Now I feel guarded, mistrusting even.. but I know that I'll do it.

__________________

I trust in You alone.

Yes, I do.

Unfortunate annoyance I didn't know I had in me

I'm a human, and if someone who's not human is reading this, being one practically means "making mistakes and learning from choices".

I don't get being human sometimes, though. I try to understand it, and just when I think I get the hang of things, someone comes along with a philosophy so strong it crushes all I hold dearly and leaves me with pieces of what used to be the things I regarded as the truth.

I don't understand why people don't understand when you make a mistake, or maybe they do, they just cower from the fact that not too long ago, they've made the same mistake and never learned from it.

All my life people have been telling me to do this and do that.. the one time I finally follow my heart and go, no, chase after my dreams, people tell me that I'm better off doing something else, being someone else. Something better, something more suited for my intellect, something that would make me happy.

That made me think..

Whenever did the heavens give the people around me the right to tell me what would make me happy?

Whenever did these people think that what they say's better for me when they obviously don't even know what being me is like?

Whenever did I give them the right to exercise my right, speak my words and think my thoughts?

I answered never to all.

Whenever did I last spend time with myself, asking myself if I were sure of what I was doing and is about to do?

Just now. And nothing's felt more liberating.

No, I don't have Seasonal Affective Disorder

Hmm, I don't exactly feel all depressed right now, but I certainly don't feel like the most jubilant person to have ever walked in this planet. Although, I have to admit, today was pretty swell.

Anyway, the parents leave later/tomorrow to go back to Qatar. And as stupid as it may sound, I'm more sad with the fact that they leave for Qatar without me tagging along than be sad that they're leaving, period.

I don't know what that makes me, cause it's one of two: selfish or stupid.

I think I'm both, on equally disturbing heights. I hope they have a safe flight. :)

Wow. That just totally blew you off, yeah? I'm serious, though.

Skeptic? No, just hesitant.

If it's a consolation, I'm going to start of this text brigade with a note that should've also been in the title:

No. I'm not talking about my life per se. I'm talking of life where anonymity is but a sidekick: the internet.

When I first entered the blogging world, I didn't want anything else but to share to the rest of the world who I was. My dreams, my life, my ups and downs.. but then after time passed by, I started to want my blogs to be more private (which, if you ask me, is pretty stupid. Since over the internet, the word "private" is practically taboo).

So I adamantly stopped posting my tumblr account on my other blogs and social networking sites, making it clear that it was one of my few accounts were only a handful of people there I knew personally. Maybe it was fear of being judged by people for reasons I don't even want to think about.

I don't know. Sooner or later I'll open my tumblr account - where I post every random quasimodo that pops through my brain - to everyone.

Sooner or later.

Not now.

Side note: My flickr project is ongoing, only it's not 365 days as originally planned seeing as I cannot last longer than a couple of weeks with any project whatsoever. I have a 25 Days project, though.. a series of self-portraits depicting my day. Here ya go.

Before you claim that I am one egotistical, conceited adolescent.. I suggest you read the description.

Also, I'm not this serious in real life. It's just that when I write, most of the sobriety dissipates itself, thus: blogs like this.

Age-old.

"Hey, do you remember where you placed my book?"

"I forgot."

...

"Well, do you remember it now?"

"I just told you that I don't, right?"

______________________________

It's ironic how we say "I forgot" but still do not remember. Shouldn't we say "I forget" or "I currently don't know"?

It's the why-do-we-call-it-building-when-it's-already-built paradox yet again.

So, I decided to be a wee bit productive.

I decided to re-launch my 365 day project.

Only this time, I plan to make it past the 3 day mark I did at the earlier part of 2010 and make it about me. My fifteenth was one of the best years of my entire life and I'd like to document my last month being one and - with it - welcome my 16 years of existence.

I hope I don't get bored a quarter way through. This will be - after all - a very good venue for my self-diagnosed ADHD.

:)

Wish me luck!

This speaks to me on so many levels.

I wonder what life would've been without the internet.

The sun's rising in a couple of hours.

• It's Cavaliers versus Celtics, Game 2 today.
• I just realized that I can look like a freakishly post-adolescent male if I want to.
• I do not know how to solve a Rubik's Cube anymore; and
• I have been feeling apathetic towards a lot of things recently. Except for two things, one of which I shall indulge in. (See below)

Also, I'm experiencing pre-class jitters. I've never changed schools before, and the thought of going to a new one is freaking every cell in my body. I'm hopeless when it comes to directions, people speaking in straight Filipino is okay until they get to the part where they give out instructions, and commuting alone is only fine when taxis are involved.

Face, meet desk. Desk, meet face. You two are going to have many confrontations come June.

I'd start now but I fear I would be getting a head concussion. I need sleep-sleep, not a drug-induced slumber.

"That's not a logical answer."

I've been watching too much Bones today and the only complaint I have is my apparent addiction to it. Otherwise, I've been learning. Not only intellectually, but psychologically as well. (This is of no relevance to the next paragraph.)

Right now, I'm in the Bones process where I answer "That's not logical" to every response I don't understand the reason behind. Like being in love, or saying being without your love is killing you, or even feeling and not thinking.

That's not logical.

That's not rational.

...

That's my severely inexperienced self thinking out loud.