stuffage

"Why do you dump a load of crap on yourself?"

A friend asked me that. He was going through crap and I was dealing with myself. And our brooding stewed in his empty apartment. It felt great letting it all go and talk about my crap to him. But I fear that it's a question that I'll have to ask that question to myself more often than not.

While the question looms above my mind, I'll also have to be careful what my friends call crap. They're my friends, yeah, but I can't flake on myself.

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My cravings are getting the best of me. I gained 6 pounds, lost 3. Gaining 2 more due to the fact that I ate a bowl of cereal (the healthy kind, mind you), a piece of toast smothered in



cream cheese





and raspberry jelly

Then the mother opened a box of crackers...the brand that I lust for.


And omgwtf...Orlando Bloom is up on Leno.

The stretch

I'm feeling like a winner.

Nocturnal little thing that I am, I fought all resistance to go the kitchen, open the refrigerator, take a slice of bread and smother that with butter and cheese.


hooray me.

That's what it is

Lately, I've been stressting myself in a way that involves putting myself up against standards that are rather unrealisitic. It took some time to realize that I made those standards up, and in the end, it's really grace (#8) that matters and not my sad little presuppositions. I can come to God in simple honesty not because I need something. I pray and ask for what it is that I'm asking for simply because God can give it, and I know that he can.



I've seen myself in a dream as a fireball of prayer. Or as a huge person standing tall in the midst of whirlwinds of white clouds. To add that, my best friend is drawing me as a Earth Mother Goddess. It was her idea. Because she knows.

Bottle spinning round

I have 6 blogs. Count them. Find them. Whatever. While in my 3 year blogging life, I craved for a readership (too much of a fucking big word), and found a childlike comfort in the discovery that my friends blog as well. Then I gave the link to family members, most of whom I occasionally bitch about on my ocassionally drama queen conjurings. Then I wanted to be more open in spite of all that. Not that I have a lot of people reading my stuff. Anonymity is something I strangely cherish. So here it is. Hopefully more intense that any HNT can offer.

- As a child, friends and I would play those role playing type of stuff where one of us would be tied up and the someone would rescue that captive. I almost wanted to be the captive, complete with rope around my wrists secured behind my back.

- I had a crush on Peter Pan, but I insisted that I be Peter Pan at childplay.

- I've always wanted to have sex while a background of grunge music plays and progresses with climaxing. Oh, and keeping with the theme, I want to be held down. I would love being held down.

- It can be deduced that I'm still a virgin, in spite of myself. I am a virgin. And I don't get the big deal about losing it or keeping it. If you are one, then fine. If you aren't, then whatever. No pressure is all.

- Among other things, I have never been drunk because I'm a HUGE commuter. I pride myself in being able to find my way home from any point of Luzon. The world, even. So commuting drunk poses a lot of problems. Such as being gang raped. Yeah.

- I used to want to be married to a pastor. Because the idea that a guy my age who'd speak intellecually about theology, God and the Bible just turrrns me on. Almost the same way grunge does to me. Mm. (I read my Bible while Nirvana or good old Stone Temple plays gently from my iPod)

- A guy friend told me once to not use the guitar as a way to get boys to notice me. I thought it was sweet of him. I promised him that I'd put his dick in my mouth, half meaning it mainly because I knew I could say that and mean it when I know that I don't really mean it. We ran into each other twice in the mall this year. The first time he ignored me. The second time, I ignored him. (The events in this last paragraph, while about the same persons, are not related; however, they are writ in chronological order)

- Commuting home one night, my right breast rubbed itself unwittingly against the trike driver's back. I was silly then to spineless extent. The driver didn't charge anything, except a look on his eyes that I swear make me think he was possessed or something. I thought that because I was a right-wing evangelical then. Naivete much.

The effects of grunge, or, you make me feel like a natural woman

You know where I'd love to be when the world ends, Ryan.

Thanks to the glam reality show, I've been feeding my face with grunge music. A friend and I sound tripped on Plush a week ago, and we went crazy. Biting our lips to every rhythm of this guh-lorious anthem, gamers were screaming in the corner of the room to some lame-ass computer game someone downloaded. Suggestive to the core.

Ryan last night was a god. I was wearing the most ridiculous smile on my face in the history of my life like I was a groupie and got lucky.

Growth and a pattern

Binging on swinging moods today, I thought that I wanted to doom myself with a lifetime of insecurity. But I know that I'm better than that.

I spent the entire afternoon with friends yesterday. Four friends. Two couples. I must have gone a long way from being an overly jealous best friend to just being normal. The other couple is in the type of relationship that is doomed to go nowhere...geographically.

While my best friend's mother hates me and expects 25-year old behavior from me, I realized that being a 5th wheel wasn't a bother at all. In fact, I didn't feel like the fifth wheel.

There is a funny pattern, though.

The best friend has a boyfriend 2 years younger than her. The other girl is about to leave college and is dating a college sophomore. I have a boyfriend at the other side of the world while there is a boy making his presence known here, confusing me with the way he takes light of our 7 year age difference. He takes it so lightly that he must be serious. I hate him and love him at the same time. But the one on the other side of the world is the shiznit, fyi.

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Today was confusing. I walked in the rain, got my shoes drenched, sang, and this musical theater diva kept saying that she knows me. Dork that I am, I failed to tell her my name as to tattoo my germinating greatness into her brain. But I digress...

All the tension was let loose while I sit in the bus and manage prayer on the way home. The kind of prayer that is wordless but laborious. Like pure, naked thoughts let themselves out before I can manage proper language. Then I felt better. Then I realized that it wasn't the weather that makes for crappy moods.

Irregular female monthlies are a bitch.

Woke up great and then some

(It's weird how the oddest things make us feel great)

While I'm not of the persuasion that masturbation is in fact a sin...

I didn't wank myself to sleep last night and I didn't wake up until noon. That felt great for some reason...I don't know why it feels like that, but it's like I won somehting, like a big accomplishment...

until I watched television and did nothing instead of the academic research the deadline of which is looming up ahead like a guillotine. Now that makes me feel like crap.

So yeah. It's an interesting day.

dirrty

I think the conductor of the bus I rode home and his mechanic watched me sleeping before waking me up to get my fare.

It's polite, yeah, but creepy.

How do I feel?

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After trying to catch up on readings, portfolio, worksheets and lesson planning, I went up to watch a video shoot.

It makes me feel dirty but for some reason smart. It was fun watching a friend smother paint all over her body while her ex watches.

It's the stuff that college films are made of, but yeah. It was cool.

I wished that it were me being filmed..... XD

Laziness and being random

I haven't been blogging (on this account at least), neither have I been taking hnt's of myself. So let my just say it and admit that I'm a pansy. I haven't been exercising, lately. And yeah, chocolate has been a very VERY good friend.

The saddest thing to report, though, is that I haven't been reading. I'm our of space for any more books in my room, and half of the lot are unread.

But there's something about being 25 and teaching that makes me want to get my ass off my computer and read.

I'm turning stupid. I need to read notes. The music kind.

Kyle the headache

I guess I'm thankful for headaches. Like this one I'm currently having. It's a miracle that I try to think coherently and blog about it, but yeah, it's a headache. And we shall call it Kyle.

Standing can only make me stagger and wobble even. So sitting is the only option. It's Kyle's fault.

Between Kyle and other stuff, I'd rather take Kyle.

My mother, after watching the Morning Show wrote down a website run by some expert on women's issues. Below the link, she wrote what was supposedly featured on the show, which is How to Look For Mr. Right, My take on that is too many people are looking for Mr. Right. He may as well be taken. And on that note, he doesn't exist. I thought it obnoxious that mom would give it to me, implying that the online guy isn't enough to materialize as Mr. Right. Kyle in the meantime reminds me that I can only deal with so much and so I helplessly sit still and let him run the show some more.

I've been trying to enlist online for classes to take for graduate school, but the university's online enrollment system is being a punk. And because Kyle is still around, the only thing I can do is click on the exist button and leave it.

So thank you Kyle. While I always thought that headaches are terrible terrible things, I think you're great.