Tuesday, March 20, 2007

baby fats


baby fats, HAH.

here's two poems for yeh. one, i made last night and a while ago (11:56-12:00) which therefore makes it two days, and the other one while at grad practice (i hid my pad paper inside my pocket)

OKAY.

(I love the rhyme pattern on this first poem)

If I could just / erase my butt, / we'd all be very happy
'Coz I admit / I may look fit, / but I'm actually quite flabby
It's always just my massive ass
They all love to make fun in class
So I get really crabby
But it's a fact, / I can't react / my body does look crappy

And since it's true / I'm telling you / I might get lyposuction
But how I fear / to just come near / that bed of fat abduction
Though after this, all will adore
My pretty self and want some more
I'll be the main attraction
Oh all the works, / how I love the perks / of bodily destruction

But you just wait / let's get things straight, / on second thoughts I might
Not let needles bore / holes on my skin for / I just might die of fright
It's just that I've come to realize
(And this might come as a big surprise)
That although my jeans tight
God has made me / big on behind, you see / so I'm still a lovely sight
(And for all those who / wish tp argue, / I shall kick with all delight) ;)

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! what a laugh.

The next one's kind of weird, and I used gay again. it's really weird, fugly even, but I'm posting it still, to make this entry longer. hah hah.

Grad practice
Is boring
I'm snoring
For today

It's killing
Sleep inducing
Let me yawn
All the way

I'm wishing
That I'm baking
I'm just faking
Enthusiasm

I could be swimming
Maybe dreaming
Now I'm smiling
In sarcasm

I'd be jetsetting
Off to Beijing
Instead of sitting
On monoblock

But I'm singing
Awfully sweating
Hearing voices
That kind of suck

I keep waiting
For that evening
When I'll toss
My cares away

For I'll be leaving
Will be ditching
All the lesbians
For the gay


HAH HAH HAH HAH HAH. it's literary day today. hah hah. or i'm just really bored.

ANYWAAAAAYYY

Patty and Andrea went to our house last Friday for a sleepovr. Aaw i was so fun. I had fun. haha. Patty and I watched Life with Derek and Unfabulous while Andrea slept. HAHA. we hung out in the H. Tub till we became pruny and wrinkly. We listened to Avril and Ashlee songs all night because it brings back so much memories. And of course, we gossiped. THAT'S EVERYONE'S FAVORITE PART!!!! hahaha we talked about a whole lot of stuff and a whole bunch of people (maybe we even talked about you!) and we just laughed and laughed and laughed and shivered at the cold cold air-conditioned gossip room of ours. NAG BROWN OUT PA. hah hah. that was really fun you guys. let's do it again sa college. reunion, now that we're all going to be rivals! haha (ADMU DLSU UST)

YAY.

RANDOM THOUGHTS:

- we have too many Koreans in the Philippines. Our village is like little Korea, full of Koreans walking, jogging, trying to lose weight morning, afternoon, night. HATE IT!

- the six Amens of the Alto part are just so... soo... out of this world weird. paiba iba ng tono. why don't we just sustain a single tone and let the Sopranos do their thing?

- I like the Responsorial Psalm thing ;)

- I hate HER

- We hate HER

- I love THEM

- I need 20 pesos

- I want a DC record/records

- I'm so tired of sitting and standing up over and over again when we don't do it all at once, exactly the way they want us to
(dapat sabay sabay ang pagtayo or pag-upo, if not, ULIT!!!!!!)

- I'm so not gonna be a Merit Card Awardee. My math grade might suck. I know it does already. i can feel it

anyway, i've done a lot of crying last week. THAT IS SO FREAKISH. gotta stop.

P.S. - Jessica's personal quote: "NO REGRETS" - no regrets on being WHAT, Jessica? HAHAHAHAHAHA ang sarap ibulgar. lookie lookie!

Cheers.

Devious and Twisted,

Therese

Labels:


Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting
killed a random reader @ 6:46 PM





2 hits for a bad entry || hit me on the head?



Wednesday, March 14, 2007

beautiful


Here's the short story I wrote for English Week and I'm posting it because I want to have a new entry and I'm not in the mood to write anything about my life except that I hate Sanjaya Malakar now, I love Sabrina who got cut, and I ADORE CHRIS RICHARDSON. oh that Hobbit lookalike makes me giddy all over.

START: (note: i didn't edit it. medyo bitin-sounding because it can't exceed two pages na double spaced and tnr 12, so yun)

All of my friends find it weird that I don't have a real crush yet. At the age of 15, I should be obsessing about guys who might be potential boyfriends someday, like all of my friends are, but I'm still waiting for my hormones to kick in.

Well actually, I do have crushes- they're not just real crushes.
You see, there's a big difference between a crush and a real crush.
Having a crush is going gaga over Chad Michael Murray or some big time celebrity whom you might never get hooked up with, ever. On the other hand, having a real crush is liking someone you actually know, living and breathing in the same world as yours. I really never thought it was possible, having a real crush, seeing that there’s an utter lack of gorgeousness in the world- but that was until I met him.

He wasn't what you might call "hot"; neither was he a jock (which was the kind of guy that every girl fancies). He was just "a guy" who never really stood out for something that might interest the common girl.
Still, I liked him.

I knew I liked him by the way he told me what time it was.
He had this way of lifting his elbow and twisting his wrist that made me mad, moving gently as if trying not to disturb the watch hands. He holds his head up and stares at me and tells me 2 words- 12:15.
From then on, I was a girl obsessed. I wanted to know him and see through that aloof façade he's been putting on. I spent nights and nights trying to search for him on the web. I stared at his pictures and saved whatever I found in my computer. I clicked on my friends who were friends with him in search for his messenger ID, and when I finally knew, it took me two hours of petal-plucking (Add him? Add him not?) before I chickened out and decided not to instead.

It's just that everything about him seems so beautiful, from his Star Wars button pin on his backpack to his big, kindergarten-ish handwriting. Heck, even the glob of spit I saw flying from his mouth (which landed on the floor) while he was reading The Garden of Proserpine for English class aloud, was beautiful. It seemed to form a heart shape on the cemented floor.

And of course, like every love-struck girl, I wrote notebooks and notebooks of poems about him, which I almost burned out of my own dread. I was obsessed, I knew it, and it was freaking me out.
It probably sounds like the most disgusting thing in the world for somebody else, but to me, it wasn't.
It was inevitable, like something you expect when you realize you like someone that much and you can only do it from afar. It's scary and painful and hard, and being a freak by stalking and being mushy is the only way to keep you sane. It hurts because you know that it's the only thing you could do about it, and it’s the only thing you'll ever be to him- a stalker.

I knew that and I’ve always accepted that. All I knew was this obsession can only be known to me and to nobody else- especially not to him.

However, all that came crashing down on me when he caught me.
While he was writing his English composition one day, I gazed and took him in and all his wonder, with my chin resting at the palm of my hands. It was one of the few times I ever get to do it with much freedom.
Yet suddenly, he looked up and his eyes met mine.
I was too shocked to look away.
Then, he looked at me with a face I cannot bear think of again.
It was a face of inconvenience, awkwardness and rejection, and as heartbreaking as that was, the worst is yet to come.
He turned his back away from me completely- he was driving me out of his life before I even walked in it. It was like carrying a big billboard that spelled out "STAY AWAY" , or a slap on the face that'll forever leave a red mark on my unblemished cheek, together with its stinging pain.

I don’t even know why I liked him so much.
He wasn't even that popular, or that good-looking. He doesn't sing in a band, or play mean guitar. He's just some guy with messy hair and eyes that seemed to know everything.
I don't know if the cute way of how he told the time was a good enough reason to make me like him. It sure as heck turned my perfectly normal life upside-down.

Why couldn't I just be normal and admire that buff quarterback or be obsessed over Backstreet Boys like everybody else?

Well, it’s just a crush.
It's just a real and genuine crush.
So why am I surprised if he doesn't like me back? Why am I surprised that my heart feels like it had been removed from my body, thrown down from a 40-foot building only to bounce back inside all torn and ruined?
It’s not like I actually pictured we'd be together.

However, I did. I just didn't want to admit it even to myself.
Hope is that beautiful, beautiful thing that we all risk to cling to.
We fail to realize that anytime, we might fall and hurt our naïve hearts, and when we actually do, we gasp in surprise and in grief like we never saw it coming. Expectation can truly be the bitterest enemy.

It's funny how truly different a mere crush is compared to a real one.
A crush doesn't cling on to anything but impossibility and acceptance. It hurts less and it quickly goes away.

A real crush is less common yet more likely, less fake yet more complicated, less fictitious yet more fulfilling.
A real crush can weaken and harrow and make love look less beautiful and more frightening.
However, a real crush can also inspire, excite, animate and touch the hearts of people who dare know it.
As I remember how just the thought of him made my whole world smile from ear to ear, I've realized that liking him was one of the best feelings I've ever had in my life.

I was carefree, giddy, flushed and ecstatic, like nothing could rain on my parade. That real crush I first had brought me feelings I've never known within my 15 years of existence, and I’d give anything to learn and feel so much more.
Although it holds on to things most precarious and treacherous, I'm most willing to take the greater risk, for it is only when I take the bigger leap that I get to embrace one of the most beautiful and most divine things ever to exist in this world.

Oh, the things you learn from puppy love.

END:

Oh yeah.

I'll post my other scrap story, Eleven. I chose this over that though but I still don;t know which one's okay-er.

;)

comments would be appreciated!

much love and of course,

Cheers!

Devious and Twisted,

Therese

Labels: ,


Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting
killed a random reader @ 8:08 PM





6 hits for a bad entry || hit me on the head?



let's go
back, back, back

Photobucket - Video and Image Hosting
in memory of my old blog
ijustcantshutup


it's still lost there somewhere in cyberspace

do take a visit.

oh yes, thanks to nicki for the loverly html-ing. all hail :))


omigesh i want one too!
omigesh i want one too!







do scream here
Powered by TagBoard Message Board
Name

URL or Email

Messages(smilies)






previous posts
~ Chasing Love (Original Song)
~ To Save The Planet
~ Dumb and Dumber-er
~ To My Good Pimple
~ The Sisterhood Of The Traveling Trophy
~ A Boy And A Bullet
~ I Feel Unloved
~ Single, Ready To Mingle?
~ Fuego
~ Stupid Americans
May 2006
June 2006
July 2006
August 2006
September 2006
October 2006
November 2006
December 2006
January 2007
February 2007
March 2007
April 2007
May 2007
June 2007
July 2007
August 2007
September 2007
October 2007
November 2007
December 2007
January 2008
February 2008
March 2008


random reads
randomness
my Deviant Art account: where photography is humdrum
my multiply: click for weirdness
lemony snicket: my hero
roald dahl: twisted
dr. seuss: for those who dare eat green eggs and ham
amazon: life's just like one
wikipedia: where you find everything.

crazy cousins
ate meg: adventure diva
ate che: misyoo

suckish schoolmates (kidding :))
ces: katotong hudas
koko: psycho
trixie: confused
kar: gossip girl mate :))
nikki: the white witch
paula: # 1 DJ
ella: great thoughts
hannah:donato
via: THE dancer
poj: kapits! :))
aiafafs: YA astig? :))

gem: gottalovedogs
danica: kitty witty?
krista: *yaya?*
nicki: html goddess
alex: the ultimate GENIUS
jescia: in LOVE
cha: bulang-guguuuuu!
joan: ee
frances: olan
phyl: reech keed?
yna: ahoho
danie: superrr
lori: nator
marion: busmate!
ate nica: harmoNICa (?)

some teachers
ate min: banaag '05
sir trogo: trogi the pogi
miss jennie jo: juniper

freako friends
ace: ex-shsian
odi: lonsquared
tar: ness
kuya rics: mr. pang-asar
CJ: virus ka
mara: kapits 2

YA Astig
dannie: delandanners
noel: rarr!!!
mica: woah no
louise: surfer girl
elyse: the great
anjo: anti-social?
theia: HMM?
paolo: lindt lover daaaw
ate marion : super dancer
angel: pedo! :)) joke
fin:ina
frances:arcilla
bianca:virina
josef: boy genius :))


face it, sucko.

i'm the hero of fools.

all quoted.

"The sad truth is that the truth is sad."

"It's amazing how people are always willing to listen to a man in a funny costume"

"People don't always get what they deserve in this world"

"You can not be a supermodel."

"I'm beginning to think that washing my face is a complete waste of time"

"Most women would rather be Cindy Crawford than Marie Curie"

"The world is a harum scarum place."

"If a guy is witty, charming and artistic, he is probably gay."

"Fate is like a strange, unpopular restaraunt, filled with odd waiters who bring you items you never asked for and don't always like."

"In relationships, it is best to assume nothing."

"Not only am I very intelligent, but I am also very smart."

"Hey, I heard your friend died"

"Yea"

"Well, don't feel bad. He's an old guy, and that's what old guys do. They DIE."

"Certain things they should stay the way they are.You ought to be able to stick them in one of those big glass cases and just leave them alone. I know it's impossible but it's too bad anyway."

"I remember how, a couple of days ago, you and I killed a couple of hours with a computer game. Perhaps the game amused me more than it did you; I desperately needed a little respite from all my thoughts. But each time we 'died' in that game, a new screen immediately came up, and we were off again. How can we know that there isn't a 'new screen' for our souls as well? I don't think there is, I really don't. But the dream of something unlikely has its own special name. We call it hope."

blasto fasto. congratulations, reader, you've clicked the scroll button long enough to have reached the part that nobody dares to reach. now buzz off.

cheers. Locations of visitors to this page