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Moments before eighteen

Prologue:
If you’re reading this on the fourth of October, then it’s already too late-it means I’ve turned eighteen and now a legal resident of the Republic of the Philippines. I may or may have not been brainwashed into thinking like adults, or I have escaped that life. If I have not, then I may have turned into a drone, mindlessly following the rules of life. But if I haven’t, then I will carry on as I am, a misfit whose goal is to write at least ten books in my lifetime, and to become someone that people look up to.

Story:
As I sit here in front of my computer, typing these very words, I am savouring my last day of being seventeen. I’m thinking over all the pros and cons of being eighteen, and if there are more cons, I will try to find an elixir that will help me remain a seventeen year old forever. Here are the facts:

Pros:

I can go on fieldtrips without parent’s consent.
I can get my passport, driver’s license and etc. without parent’s consent.
Basically get legal documents without a letter of consent.
I can drive without having someone with a professional license in the car.
In the Philippines, you can only get a job when you’re eighteen.
I can enter contests that require me to be eighteen.
I can finally check that box that says “18+”
I can go on rides that require me to be eighteen.
I get to sit on the adults table.
I get to watch movies that are for 18+

Cons:

In the Philippines, when you’re under eighteen and you’re caught doing something illegal, you can’t be arrested. Therefore when I’m eighteen, I can get arrested if I do anything illegal.
I will be expected to act “grown up”
It would mean that soon, I’d be graduating college and starting my own life. (No more running to momma)
I can’t play anymore children games because I’d be seen as immature.
I have to do what grown ups do. (I have no definite idea what that is.)
People will call me ma’am. That makes me sound old.
Just being expected to be mature.

Epilogue:

As I have read and calculated my findings, it seems that there aren’t enough reasons for me not to become eighteen. So I shall proceed with this task that the future has given me. But I vow to myself, to never lose my child-at-heart persona, even when drones suck my brain to make me a “valuable” asset to society. Wish me luck world. 😀

On being a godmother

In the Philippines, it is well known that religion is important to us. And every religion has baptism, and earlier today I got to be one of the godmothers for a family friend. It was honestly my first time to become a godmother, but since I saw the little angel, I couldn’t say no!

World, meet Maria Divina Lacambra

Minutes before the mass started, I began taking pictures of her, the parents and the other godparents.

With her parents and godparents

During the mass, I couldn’t help but steal glances at the little girl. She’s only four months old yet she’s ready to empower the world with her cuteness! When the ceremony started, the little girl was asleep! Here she was, about to be welcomed into the Christian world and she was sleeping. How cute.

She was then baptized by water, and she merely stirred in her sleep as the water was poured on her head.

When the ceremony was done, she was became a Christian! (insert loud applause here) We then proceeded to their house, where they prepared a little feast in celebration of the new addition to the religion.

This picture took me a long time to take because she’s so moody! Good thing I captured this smile.

I think that being a godmother means that you have to be a good influence, and I take full responsibility on that. I just hope I fit the role! I’m still seventeen afterall. By the time she’s ten, i’d be twenty seven! We’d be like sisters 😀

She’s a bit grumpy here, getting tired of being passed from one person to the other!

Being the photographer for the day, I was rarely in the pictures! So I stealthily took a selfie. (Insert evil laugh here)

From womb to the tomb

Earlier today, my professor asked us, “What is meaning?”

We were studying our semantics lesson- the meaning of words in a sentence. So when our professor asked us what is meaning, we were dumbfounded. How do you define something that you use to define things? Our professor then expounded the thought, and we came to the topic of defining ourselves by our meaning in life. And this became my inspiration for this post.

So now I will ask you:

What is YOUR meaning?

How do you define yourself?

When we were born, we were defined as our parents’ daughter/son. Growing up, we were defined by the playmates we had and how we were raised. When we go to school we’re defined as a student, whether we were diligent or not. When we had our first girl/boyfriend we were defined by who they were, and what we did with them. When we go to work, we are defined by our job, and where we work. We become “hubby” or “wifey”, then mom or dad. We get old, and little versions of us call us “grandpa” or “grandma”. And then, inevitably, we die. What definition does the world give us next? Gone.

Throughout our lives, we are defined by what we do, who we’re with and what we’ve accomplished. We search for the meaning of life, of who we are. We cover ourselves with material things, thinking that with it comes the true definition of who we are. We comply to the status quo, and when we die, we simply turn into dust. What good have we done then?

We don’t realize that we can make our own definition. We can live life to the way we want it, and not through what other people want. We can sway from the social expectations, and we can surprise ourselves with what we can do. So that even when we’re six feet below the ground, we still have a definition. Either we’re the ones who never took a single risk, or we’re someone who made everyone cry at our funeral because we were an inspiration to them.

So what will it be? An inspiration? Or someone forgotten? Because life won’t give us our definition. We do.

Where have all the nice guys gone?

Nowadays, they say being nice is overrated. They say chivalry is dead. They say that being nice is so tiring when the world is cruel and evil. I beg to differ.

First, let me define a nice person. It is someone who does things selflessly, without asking for anything in return. This is someone who likes doing things for people without forgetting themselves. These people are usually taken for granted, mostly bullied and are tossed aside. Believe me, I know. And these very people who shun and hate nice people are the one who actually have the balls to ask why there aren’t more nice people.

In this generation, where people are encouraged to be themselves and all that, less and less want to be nice. They want to stand up for themselves, to be strong and different. Now this isn’t wrong. What’s wrong is that some people overdo it and become mean. Plus another factor in some people being mean is the messed up dating system. Girls go for douche bags, while men go for the girl version of douche bags. But after a while they get tired, and try to find nice people. In the end though the nice people are pushed to become douche bags, resulting in a huge scarcity with people who are just nice. People do things for their own personal gain, and everything they do must be returned in some form. And this, ladies and gentlemen, is the reason this world has become cruel and selfish. They say being nice is too easy and that there isn’t a challenge in it.

Now here is my opinion: being nice is the hardest thing to do. You have to be nice to people you hate. You have to hold back your tongue when someone says something cruel at you. You want to do things without nothing in return, just because you want to. You have to be patient, and not to mention be always be a shoulder to lean on. And with Freud saying that we are naturally aggressive, this is opposite of who we are.

But I tell you what. Being nice to people is actually heartwarming. When you secretly do something for someone, and you watch them from a distance be happy, it’s feels more awesome than winning money. When you know you changed some one’s day, when you know that you affected their life in a good way, it’s priceless. Just a small smile, or a simple “hi” can change some one’s outlook.

In this cruel world as some may say, being nice can go a long way. A small comment about how they look, as long as you’re sincere can drastically change the way they look at themselves. And to some extent, you can help people live on with their life. For example, let’s say a frustrated writer like myself who is trying to reach out to people decides to give up writing. But one simple comment, as long as you’re really true about it, can help. Every little thing you do, as long as it comes from your heart, can mean a whole lot to someone.

And so the next time you decide to do something and you feel under appreciated, let it be. Even if no one saw it, He saw it. Besides, the feeling you get when you know you helped someone is worth more than the world’s attention.

My 50th blog post :D

Eeeeep! I can’t believe it. After I started my blog in 2011, I honestly didn’t know what to do. At that time I was just entering college, a realist optimist fifteen year old. I had a lot of drafts, but I never published them. Just then, last May 14,2012 I began to write again. I posted random thoughts, mostly about things I’ve experienced or learned. And now, I can’t believe that I’ve reached the fiftieth! I

know it’s not that big of a stepping stone, but hey, I love the little things. I just want to say thank you for all those who have read, commented and cheered me on. I thank my mom for her support and critiques, my friends who like my posts, to those readers that I don’t know but I love so much, to Anthony who read my posts before anyone did, to Ma’am Jessa Amarille who taught English 5 last sem which inspired me to write every week, to the Facebook groups, to everyone else who inspired me and of course Him. Thank you so much. I have much to learn, I have much to achieve. I won’t talk about anything specific here, I just wanted to say thank you to everyone.

And it’s fairly apt that I post this on the last day of August, seeing as it this month has been the best month for my blog. I have developed immensely, have written and posted whenever I felt like it, and I’ve reached 6k views! 😀

To those who want to read more, here they are!

First kisses and sloppy nightmares

He tilts your chin up, and looks deeply into your eyes. You notice the things you haven’t notice before. Like his eyes are really light brown, that his nose has a faint mole on the right, and that his cheeks actually blush. And then you look down. You see the red, almost heart shaped lips, then you notice that he’s looking at your lips too. You shy away, afraid that he may see how imperfect
you are. But no, he holds your chin up, and smiles at you. Butterflies rapidly form in your stomach, and your heart beats loud you’re afraid that he might hear it. He then leans in, and you automatically shut your eyes. He chuckles, and when you open your eyes he’s smiling at you.

“You.are.beautiful” He whispers, his hot breath touching your lips.

He looks into your eyes again, and then finally swoops down for the kiss. Your eyes close dramatically, as you melt like ice cream on a hot summer day. You feel his soft lips that’s almost like marshmallow. You don’t know what to do, but like instinct you kiss back. You run your fingers along his curly hair, and you smile in the kiss. You don’t just feel fireworks. You feel love. You feel it pouring from his lips, the warm, untamed love. When he pulls away you feel disappointed, but that quickly changes when he presses his forehead on yours. He kisses you nose, and holds your hand like how Tarzan did when he met Jane. In this moment, it’s perfect.

Heart warming isn’t it? We all dream that our first kisses start that way. But as cruel as reality is, it doesn’t work out that way. Some are fortunate, but for us regular folks we have our first kisses in either the most awkward way possible, or the most shocking way. So for those hopeless romantics like me, here are different types of first kisses that I have noted down from friends and online confessions. To be specific these are kisses on the lips by people who aren’t included in your family.

Sloppy Joe- Imagine a fish. Slimy, gross and has its mouth open. Now imagine having that as your first kiss. The poor guy has been nervous as hell during your date, has slippery hands and has been sweating a lot. When he leans in for a kiss he excuses himself to sneeze or he just sneezes at your face. But since you’re excited, you don’t mind. And when he finally kisses you, you now know why you have to cook a fish before you eat it.

Smack Macky– Now this kiss is just plain evil. It’s over before it even began. The dude steals a kiss, and not in a romantic way. He literally has stolen your first kiss, scarring you for life. But if the guy is your crush/dating you, you’re kinda lucky. Some unfortunate souls had their first kiss by a complete stranger! Talk about stranger danger.

Morning Manny- This kind of kiss usually happens during sleepovers and camping. You’re sleeping soundly, and all of the sudden you wake up face to face with a guy. And for some apparent reason, your lips are within kissing range. Before you could vavoom your way out of there, the guy moves, causing the two of you to lip lock your way into losing the virginity of your lips. Now that’s harsh.

Accidental Ace- Just like Smacky Macky, this may come from a total stranger. Now we can all imagine this kiss as we’ve read this a lot and seen this in movies. You’re just doing your own thing, you trip at someone and both of you come tumbling down. The next thing you know both of your lips are together, and you’re too shocked to move. You may think this only happens in movies, but I tell you, it has happened in real life.

Mismatch Mark– You know how sometimes you kiss someone’s cheek? Well imagine you’re kissing someone’s cheek at the same time that guy tries to kiss you on the cheek too. The catch? Both of you try to kiss on the same side. The outcome? Both of you kissed each other on the lips instead of the cheeks. Now this has happened to me, fortunately with a close girl friend. But how about those who got kissed by someone they met, or even their boss as they greeted each other? Awkward? Yes. Irreversible? No.

Spark-less Sam- Now this guy planned everything. He got you a nice reservation for a table for two, both of you danced, ate and had fun. Just as he walks you to your door, he smiles at you. You know you’re going to get kissed. He then leans down, and finally he kisses you. He pulls away, looking at the floor. He holds your hand, and looks at you with a sad smile. “I don’t think this is going to work out. I didn’t feel any spark. I’m sorry.” He then walks away and gives you a small excuse for a wave. You stand there dumbfounded, scratching your head, and walk inside. Since when was is that the guy looked for sparks?

Tongueful Tate- Now this is Sloppy Joe but on a less level. Or worse. You decide when you kiss a guy for the first time and he sticks his tongue down your throat like he’s giving you resuscitation. Hell, even first aid isn’t like that. He seems to be brushing your teeth too. Now all you need is mouthwash and maybe a bit of brainwash and you’re good to go.

Devious Daniel- The name says it all. It’s that creepy guy who has a thing for being a girl’s first, and he does these evil plans to be the first to taste. He may kiss you when you’re happily dozing off to dreamland, or he leans into your side and calls your name. SMACK! You’d never know what’s coming. Shame on these guy, they deserve to be smacked too. In the head. With a hardbound book.

Bad-breath Brad- Now this guy has no respect for you or himself. He kisses like he hasn’t heard of breath mint, and he isn’t ashamed. Some girl have actually barfed, cried and had nightmares. Nah I’m just exaggerating. They didn’t cry.

So far, these are the kind of first kisses that I know of. Not that I tried them all! No offense to those guys who are named the same with my classifications. I know your face is scrunching just imagining these kisses, and I’m afraid I’m about to throw up too. But before we head to the bathroom and empty our stomachs, what was your first kiss like?

Writing Prompt – Happiness is..

The internet is a beautiful thing. It has the cure for every little thing-even a case of writer’s block. For me, it wasn’t really writer’s block. I wanted to write, but I just didn’t have any idea what to write about. So as I was surfing the net, I found this beautiful site, aptly named as Language is a virus. And as I clicked on the Generate New Writing Prompt button, I got a new list every time. And now I’m on the site every time. Most of them are really helpful, some are funny and I get a rush every time I finish one. My favorite one, is write 10 sentences starting with Happiness is.. here it is. 🙂

Happiness is a beautiful love song that plays that just lifts your spirits. It makes you feel giddy as the song plays as if it was for you. Just like this one.
Happiness is finding five pesos after enduring hours of being so hungry. Your stomach grumbles but you know you don’t have enough money. And out of nowhere, a shiny five pesos! Now you can buy bread! (pan de sal anyone?)
Happiness is hearing your favorite song on the radio and just belting out the lyrics like some crazy person. You feel free as you do that dance you do when no one’s watching.
Happiness is receiving a warm hug after you’ve been crying. You feel that certain warmth seep through your body after crying so hard. Your tears dry on the person’s shoulder, as they say sweet words to calm you down.
Happiness is staring into someone’s eyes and you see their pupils dilate. And that someone is your crush.
Happiness is getting a good grade for something you worked hard on. You just want to fist pump the air and hug your professor so hard they might consider failing you.
Happiness is tasting your favorite ice cream after having a cough for a month. The way the taste melts in your mouth, the way it rolls down your throat.
Happiness is going through your old things, remembering the memories that went with it. Whether good or bad, or something stupid you did then, you know those memories became the reason why you are the way you are.
Happiness is seeing your family happy. Their happiness radiates toward you, and you can’t help but smile with them.
Happiness is laughing so hard with your friends that your stomach and cheeks hurt. But you just can’t stop laughing.

So there’s my list. I hope it somehow brightened your day, and I hope you make a list like that too. It really does make you feel happy. Just remember, happiness is a choice, a choice not everyone makes. 🙂

My morning thoughts

Everyday I wake up, with the urge to slip back into dreamland. But reality awaits, beckoning me to take my character in the worldwide play of life. I sit up, and glance around my surroundings. Light was streaming down from the windows, illuminating the room. I notice that as usual I am the last one in bed, a result of sleeping late. As I take my first few steps of my day, I search for the familiar faces of my blood-kin, and I kiss them with affection, thankful that they too were blessed with life.

I slowly make my way to the kitchen, eager to fill my starved stomach with blessings that came from the people who made it happen. Having had my fill, I walk upstairs and open my laptop. I pick up my phone as my computer welcomes me with that familiar Windows music. As I scroll through the messages from my ever reliable cell phone, I smile when I read morning messages from him. I hug myself, thinking how lucky I am with everything that I have.

Sometimes I just pause with everything I do, and I think. I find myself daydreaming, staring off to space. I think about life, that no matter how bad or good my day will go, I am still ultimately blessed. That He gives me all that I need, though I may not always get what I want. As Morgan Freeman said, “But since when does anyone have a clue about what they want?”

How about you? Do you stop and think about the things in your life? Do you think about how lucky you are? Even just reading this essay is lucky. Having a computer, having an internet, even waking up in the morning. The next time you feel like you’re nothing, stop and reflect. If you’re nothing, would God have woken you up today? If you’re nothing, why would He give you the gift of reasoning? Desiderata says: You are a child of the universe. You have the right to be here.

When you feel unloved and alone, count your blessings. As the song goes, you’d fall asleep before you finish counting. 🙂

Piggie vs the wolf

Obesity has really reached its limit, and has blown up everywhere. But we all know we’re not talking about body fat here. The Priority Development Assistance Fund (PDAF), otherwise known as “Pork Barrel” which was supposedly for the projects for the benefit of the taxpayers, has drastically blown up from the pockets of politicians. And the aftermath is disastrous. I don’t need to elaborate on how PDAF was started, or what has happened that caused so much alarm because you have the liberty of reading it in the newspapers and other websites.

I am writing however, to those who have the ability to make a change but are too lazy to do so. I am writing to those who act enraged, and yet they quiver at the thought of doing something. To my fellow Filipinos, today, August 26, is a day that we have allocated to show how much we are insulted by the acts of the people we voted for. Your voice is as important as any others. I say to you, stand up. These people whom we trusted to lead our country have pocketed so much that it has blown up in their faces. They have given us the choice to hate them for taking something that wasn’t for their benefit. For years they have blinded us, for years they have been telling lies. And now that we finally have the hard evidence that would suffice our thirst for justice, let us act on it.

My fellow Filipinos, young and old, we are the wolf. We are stronger than them. They are the worthless pigs who greedily take what they can get from those who they thought could not think for themselves. Let us prove them wrong. Today, the victims become the predator, moving to catch the prey. We shall huff and puff until they blow away. In this story, we shall get a just ending. We will drive this piggies into the hell hole where they deserve to be. They need to know that we are not okay with what they have done, that we are not helpless.

Make a stand! Take your part in the million march to dispose of something that was abused by those pigs! Make them feel the rage! Scrap pork barrel!

For those who could not make it to the rally, make your waves through social media. Make this you profile picture for today.

Reading hangover

‘She clutched the knife and drove it right into her lover’s chest. Her lips quivered as his blood slowly stained his shirt, and he screamed from his sleep, feeling the cold blade. His eyes grew wide as he gripped the knife, before passing out. Taking her gloves off, she went out of the hotel room shaking. I did it! Miranda thought. And now for my husband. She grinned mischievously, feeling up the gun that she kept in her purse.’

I close the book, my nerves rocketing through sky limit. She killed her lover! Now she’s going to kill her husband. The cafe seemed to quiet down around me. I look around, and I notice people staring at me. Did I just talk to myself? An old man just looked at me. I talked to myself again! I shut my mouth and walk out of the cafe. The warm weather envelopes me, and I make my way home. I burrow my brows together, my thoughts still hanging by the thought that the protagonist killed the man who made her happy. What kind of twisted world was I living in? I pause for a moment, and I laugh at myself. It’s not my world. It’s a book.

“Something funny?”

I look up and see him, in all his handsome glory. And he was smirking! The nerve! I walk past him, a tint of blush on my cheeks.

“Hey I was just kidding.”

I feel him run up to walk beside me, and I walk a bit faster. I hold my book to my chest, and I flag my hand to stop a jeepney. I get into the front, so that he won’t sit beside me. I sigh, exhaling the breath that I was holding. I open my book again, and in an instant I am lost in the sea of words.

‘After getting in a cab, she prayed silently that her husband would be home. The cab ride home was excruciatingly tiresome, and her heart was beating so loudly she hoped the driver would not hear. She tossed her red hair to the side, stepping out of the cab. Her hands were still shaking because of the adrenaline, but nervously tried to compose herself as she walked up towards the apartment. Just as she was about to open the door-‘

“Hey!”

I look in annoyance to my book thief, who grinned like a wolf. He was sitting behind me, holding my book by its cover. Rage seeped through me as he stuck out his tongue out at me. He began reading my book, his brows furrowed as he read the page I was reading. Jerk. The jeepney was near my drop off now, and I was thinking of ways to get the book back. I paid the driver, glared at the thief and got off. Predictably, he got off too and he walked towards me, closing my book. He didn’t even use the bookmark! Now I have to search the book for where I left. I huff, and I try to reach for my book. He held it up over his head, and I curse under my breath.

“Give me the book Dennis.” I look at him in the eye, trying to muster the angriest look I could. I only received a howl of laughter from him.

“You’re so cute when you’re angry!” He says between his laughter.

I turn around so he wouldn’t see me blush, and I walk towards my house. I hear him call my name, but I pretend not to hear him. I feel his hand on my shoulder, but I just shrug it off. I walk faster, and soon enough I was running towards my house. I try to slam the door, but his damn foot got in the way.

“Hey Clarisse, don’t get mad. I was just curious what the book was about.”

I smack the door to his face, and soon enough I hear an “omf”. I smile with satisfaction, and I walk into my house. I hear him close my door, and I open the TV. He sits beside me, nudging me with his elbow. He slowly slid the book to my lap, and he remains silent. He’s smart after all. I immediately open my book, eager to know what was about to happen next. It took me a few minutes to find where I stopped, no thanks to Mr. jerk-a-lot.

‘Just as she was about to open the door, she hears a woman. And not just any woman. It was her sister. She stuck her ear on the door, and her heart breaking in two after hearing her sister moan her husband’s name. Filled with rage, she opened the door and her eyes confirmed her suspicions. Her husband was in an intimate position with her sister, whose eyes practically bulged out when she saw her.’

My heart hammered right out my chest, as I read on. But unfortunately for me, the jerk started to sing to the theme song of Phinneas and Ferb as it played on TV. I sigh, and reached for the remote to mute the sound.

“Hey! No fair!”

He tried to get the remote from me, but I lose immediately when he reached for my book. I reluctantly give it to him, and soon he was blaring the episode. Why did he have to be my neighbor? Why can’t my neighbor be someone who is actually nice to me? But lo and behold, I get a bully. I sigh, and return to my book. I shake my head at him, and he sticks his tongue out again. I open my book, and soon my anger melts. Soon I get lost between the confrontation of wife and husband, my mind drifting into a world woven by a writer so brilliant. And soon, I get drunk again with words from a simple book.

Category: Blog