I have always talked about my shoes. Thought maybe I'd also talk about my feet. Haha.
Ugh. 🙄
And here's the thing: I don't like my feet because they're ugly.
You could say they're a whole new level of hideous. Dry, cracked, calloused, wrinkly, and veiny.
(Which does not make the topic any better.)
No amount of moisturizer, color, pedicure, special beauty treatment, or maybe even plastic surgery will make my feet conventionally beautiful.
I've tried most of it all.
I remember reading a friend's post on Facebook that said he will never ride the jeepney ever again. Another also shared about his first jeepney ride after so many years like it's a lifetime achievement or something. Knowing that they're not even someone you can consider rich, I was so quick to silently judge them for being maarte and hambog.
You see, I grew up riding the public transpo. I have been commuting daily since I started kindergarten and I am well-aware how poor the public transportation system in our country is. DIRTY. CROWDED. HOT. Not to mention, it can also be DANGEROUS knowing how public transpo drivers can be ruthless and aggressive. You have to watch out for perverts and pickpockets, too.
But as dreadful as it may sound, such things never really bothered me.
Well, I didn't have a choice.
"Yes," Red replied.
"Was it delicious?"
"Yes! Where did you buy it?"
That would have been an insult. It certainly is my son's indirect way of saying that I cannot make something appetizing. I couldn't blame him though. For ten years he tolerated my awful concoctions. But! Being introduced to bad food early on is one of the reasons why he is not a picky eater, or so I would like to believe. Motherhood did not really put my mediocre cooking skills into practice. Give my son some green, leafy salad with bagoong (kangkong, squash leaves, or kamote, topped with tomato and onions) and he will eat it right away. So why bother with a complicated recipe?
"Nothing has really changed," I said flatly.
"Wait until the honeymoon phase is over."
I have been asked this question over and over again for weeks now and I have been repeating my answer with the same flat face. And it is not because I am less enthusiastic about it. It is just that, I do not want to engage in a conversation and delve into details about the brutal truths I wished somebody told me about before getting married.
I've got big knuckles, probably from the knuckle-popping which I am so fond of since fourth grade. I've got big veins that can give any nurse an orgasm, and it sure does make my hands look masculine. I've got wrinkly hands that look ten years older than I really am to which no amount of lotion or moisturizer can help.
Believe it or not, my childhood friend used to envy my thin and lovely fingers; she'd call it kandilaon. And perhaps you are wondering how did they get this way.
Remember when I said I've never had any Starbucks before? Well, just recently, I've had one when Renz and I decided to do our planning at Starbucks for our second public speaking stint. That was my first time to hang out at Starbucks.
Ever.
I don't play hard to get. If I like I guy who likes me too, it wouldn't take long before I commit.
I was 14 when I had my first boyfriend. He was my close friend and our relationship was born out of a deal. "Let's play a game. Kapag nanalo ako, tayo na". Parang ganun. It was nothing really serious. We were still too young and scared. Konting kilig dito, holding hands doon. Ganun lang.
Call me a loser. I've never seen The Walking Dead, I couldn't even get past episode 1 of the Game of Thrones, I don't know what's strange about Stranger Things, and not even a single thought of jumping into the Korean drama bandwagon crossed my mind - which is probably a good thing.
But I ended up giving Riverdale a try. Seriously? I probably deserve a good punch in the face for missing on the good shows and giving this a second look, not to mention, time to blog about this. I'm not even into highschool-centric dramas (Mean Girls is an exception). But since I was a big Archie comics fan back then, I decided to watch the pilot episode after the teasers gave me a hunch that they got the characters wrong. And I was right.
Confessions Vol. 9: I Want Something Different and Permanent
I have always wanted one ever since I was in college. But I had to wait. I had to make sure it wasn't just a teenager's act of rebellion against the parents, the self, or the world. Then I had to wait more to make sure that I am not running right into a tattoo salon just because everyone is doing it. I had to wait a little more to make sure that this isn't just a phase and I might get over the tattoo-lust somehow. And I had to wait a little bit more because I know this is not something that has to be taken lightly.
If I had to get my first ink done, I always remind myself that it has to be significant to me. When I turned 18, I wanted to have a butterfly tattooed on my shoulder blade because they were fad and looked cool back then. Too glad I didn't because I'd be mortified to see a cute butterfly drawn permanently on my skin today. No offense meant here, but it's just so not me. The last thing I would want is to find myself biting my lips, cringing, and asking myself "OH GAWD, WHY?" a few years later.
Actually, a lot happened. But I can only think of it as something worth shrugging or eye-rolling. Or something that's only twitter-worthy for it can only be summed up into less than 160 characters like, "Yay! It's the first time I voted. Just look at my blue fiiiiiinger!" or "Just saw someone took a Bacardi 151 shot. Reaction? Priceless. And now I'm curious because it feels like I missed something surreal", or "Ian Somerhalder just replied to my tweet! Best day ever!"
Okay, I made the last one up. Although I would have loved being that fangirl, but my twitter account is pathetic and I could not even remember the password. But anyway, on a Saturday when all the chores are done and my cat refuses to bath, I decided to take a trip down memory lane and might as well humiliate myself just to stir something interesting. Or not. Please don't judge.
When I was 5 or 6 and some time when I was 18 - 20 |
I am addicted. But I'm not on crack. If I am, then I would say the office supply stores are my drug dealer. I don't know what's with these bookstores and office depots that they always render me powerless. They are evil and I'm vulnerable. There's a force that drags me right into it, put me on a trance as I pass from one aisle to another, and I never leave without clutching a thing or two.
Just so you know, I am not really into movies. I'm not the type who likes to just sit still and watch passively. So if you're one of my friends who's been to the movies with me, then perhaps you're one of those who got annoyed with my incessant blabbing of movie flaws, logic, and inconsistencies because unfortunately I have the ability not to ignore small things that don't make sense. No wonder I get constantly told, "pagtan-aw na lang gud dira!" (Shut up and just watch the goddamn movie!)
Confessions Vol. 5: I am fascinated with the Nazis and the Holocaust
Since then, I've shown interest about the Nazi - from the documentaries, to books, to everything about Hitler. I've read Mein Kampf, The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich, a few other books with titles that I could no longer recall, and some fiction/non-fics that I have on my shelf that have eventually opened my eyes and led me to disgust Hitler and his mustache. And it's such a shame that I've been claiming to be obsessed with such yet I haven't watched Schindler's List until yesterday. I'm more devoted in books than on movies though. Well, what can I say? Schindler's List is one of the most powerful films I've ever seen. Even more powerful than the neo-Nazi setting film, American History X.
Some of the most compelling Nazi/Holocaust books that I have. |
Today I was told I am weird for dipping my instant pancit canton in a Pinakurat vinegar before eating it. Well, that's just one of the many things that make me weird, or I should say, unique. So today, I'd like to share with you a bunch of things that are perfectly normal for me which you may find pretty different, not normal, weird, or whatever you call it. And maybe uninteresting. And some items could strip off any respect you have for me. Haha. But for the sake of fun and telling the truth, I'll share it anyway. Here goes...
Here's a glimpse of my room now. And I'm not sorry for the mess that I have just made. |
I don't remember how long it has been since the first Starbucks in Davao opened. But I do remember the incredulous number of people on queue waiting for their turn to order on the first week of opening. Why?