Happy 30th birthday to my best friend, my confidant, my mentor, my challenger, my bully, my biking buddy, my travel mate, my panda bear, my pillow, and of course, my inspiration. You have always been my rock. And even though I don't really like relying on other people, I seem to rely on you so much. Yes, you are spoiling me, so thank you. Haha.
Aside from the 100-peso ukay-ukay jacket that I inadvertently got for your birthday which is really not useful for every day use, and since I got nothing else better to give, here's just a simple post to let you know that I am indeed very thankful for all the things you do. :)
Thank you lab for being there for me, not because you have to but because you want to.
Thank you for your messages that fire up my lazy mornings.
Aside from the 100-peso ukay-ukay jacket that I inadvertently got for your birthday which is really not useful for every day use, and since I got nothing else better to give, here's just a simple post to let you know that I am indeed very thankful for all the things you do. :)
Thank you lab for being there for me, not because you have to but because you want to.
Thank you for your messages that fire up my lazy mornings.
The Art of Apathy: Will I Ever Learn It?
By Sarah Aterrado - March 15, 2015
How I wish I can.
Just when you feel that everything around is trying to crush your spirit and put you down, you will realize that people who suck the life out of you actually exist. Sometimes it makes me wonder how people can actually take advantage of your kindness just to get what they want and feel no remorse about it.
Just when you feel that everything around is trying to crush your spirit and put you down, you will realize that people who suck the life out of you actually exist. Sometimes it makes me wonder how people can actually take advantage of your kindness just to get what they want and feel no remorse about it.
This post is a little late because it took me a while to gather up all the resources that I needed for this entry. Pictures, yes. See? That's how bad of a blogger I am. I am too lazy to take pictures of events that I should be blogging about. More so, post-process and beautify those pictures with filters and words to make it look more enticing. I wish I have the diligence to do so, especially that I am a graphics designer (sigh). Anyway, enough of the drama, I've got more interesting stories to share than mope about why I fail at such.
Last March 3 2015, I was invited to join a HipHop Fitness Soiree brought to you by My Skin Origins and The Greene Dare. Without second thoughts I scampered around my room and prepared my outfit for the event all the while thinking (and sometimes performing) a few hiphop moves. Surprisingly, I still know how to pop. It's not a big event but yes, I was so excited like I am going to a grand alumni homecoming, except I won't be reuniting with old friends.
Last March 3 2015, I was invited to join a HipHop Fitness Soiree brought to you by My Skin Origins and The Greene Dare. Without second thoughts I scampered around my room and prepared my outfit for the event all the while thinking (and sometimes performing) a few hiphop moves. Surprisingly, I still know how to pop. It's not a big event but yes, I was so excited like I am going to a grand alumni homecoming, except I won't be reuniting with old friends.
But I am not complaining. As my fingers are typing the very words you see at the moment, I try to numb down the soreness with these medicated pain relief patches that I plastered all over my thighs and legs. Doesn't really take away the pain but it's better than nothing. I have been walking around the house, giving off waves of peppermint and I think it smells pretty good. Haha.
You see, I barely survived my 5K run early this morning. No matter, I had fun.
I remember somebody suggested that I should take photos of my journal entries and turn them into blog posts. I cringed at the idea at first. I have my own private life and that's what journals are here for. But I guess, I will make an exception just for this time.
I just want to share the day a question began to skim across on my mind. A question to which answers began to fall one by one like leaves that smell of autumn.
Is it love?
I still use it anyway.
I'll be honest with you. Facebook, or the people using Facebook can be annoying as hell. However, no Facebook posts are more annoying than a person who complains about how annoying Facebook is. Just like this one. So yeah, I'm gonna annoy you with things about Facebook that annoy me so much that I have to waste precious time blogging about it. Here goes...
I'll be honest with you. Facebook, or the people using Facebook can be annoying as hell. However, no Facebook posts are more annoying than a person who complains about how annoying Facebook is. Just like this one. So yeah, I'm gonna annoy you with things about Facebook that annoy me so much that I have to waste precious time blogging about it. Here goes...
Yup, this is me losing the battle against cheesy Filipino movies. I don't really like watching love stories, let alone Pinoy movies for their unoriginal, predictable, and overly promoted but usually half-assed quality production. To tell you honestly, Pinoy movies suck big time right now. No. Let me rephrase that. Over-hyped Pinoy movies suck big time. But this, this film that humbly made its way to the big screens really got me. It somehow hoisted the downward spiral of the once great Philippine movie industry, didn't it? We need more movies like this. Movies that actually foster creativity over profit.
I regret not paying attention to my Chinese lessons. You see, I have spent my entire preschool and grade school days at Stella Maris Academy of Davao, where almost everyone you meet is fair-skinned, chinky-eyed, and with a surname that consists of only two to three letters.
For eight years, I have repeatedly written stroke after stroke after stroke those Chinese characters in our shadi-po. I was fluent during those times of our graded oral recitation. I sang songs in Chinese. And I knew how to pray in Chinese fairly well. But all these felt like a formidable task that I dreaded it just the same as my Math lessons.
Surviving that eight-year plight didn't mean anything though, for all I can clearly utter right now are the words wo ai ni, ni hao ma, and count from one to ten. If there's anything I knew by heart, it would be the cussing in Chinese. Haha. Well, who doesn't?
For eight years, I have repeatedly written stroke after stroke after stroke those Chinese characters in our shadi-po. I was fluent during those times of our graded oral recitation. I sang songs in Chinese. And I knew how to pray in Chinese fairly well. But all these felt like a formidable task that I dreaded it just the same as my Math lessons.
Surviving that eight-year plight didn't mean anything though, for all I can clearly utter right now are the words wo ai ni, ni hao ma, and count from one to ten. If there's anything I knew by heart, it would be the cussing in Chinese. Haha. Well, who doesn't?
Having a pet.
I have always been a dog person. Since the time I was born until I graduated in college, I have always had a dog. Being the only child (for 14 years), I considered my pooches as part of the family - a sibling. Someone I've slept with, cuddled with, shared my food with and talked to whenever I feel down. They're smart and they know how to empathize that you'll forget they are not human. I bet, they are even smarter, more compassionate, and have more heart than half the people you meet.
I have always been a dog person. Since the time I was born until I graduated in college, I have always had a dog. Being the only child (for 14 years), I considered my pooches as part of the family - a sibling. Someone I've slept with, cuddled with, shared my food with and talked to whenever I feel down. They're smart and they know how to empathize that you'll forget they are not human. I bet, they are even smarter, more compassionate, and have more heart than half the people you meet.
You know you're old when you start not giving a f*ck about what people will think about you; case in point, I went out in public, unkempt. If wearing a wrinkled clothing is a crime, I would now be serving a life sentence.
Not that I did it unknowingly. Since I was already too late for work, I didn't mind warming up the iron. Besides, I never really iron my clothes. I avoid creased pants like plague. I know it's not one of my best days and I definitely looked sloppy (pants and collared shirt fresh from the clean laundry basket, matched with Chuck Taylors that has seen better days). But who cares? I strode down the road as I wore what seemed to be cringe-worthy, with pride.
Not that I did it unknowingly. Since I was already too late for work, I didn't mind warming up the iron. Besides, I never really iron my clothes. I avoid creased pants like plague. I know it's not one of my best days and I definitely looked sloppy (pants and collared shirt fresh from the clean laundry basket, matched with Chuck Taylors that has seen better days). But who cares? I strode down the road as I wore what seemed to be cringe-worthy, with pride.
Yesterday, my friends and I decided to go to Kaputian at Samal Island to, well, do that cliff jump. Getting there is just easy. You just have to follow that concrete road and look for the sign that says Acantilado, and bam! You're there.
This post is a little bit late. Not that I'm getting lazy but I am still at lost for words to what I am about to blog. You see, the boyfriend surprised me with a journal. And it is not just a journal. It is an Alunsina Handbound Book!
Now, for everyone who doesn't know what an Alunsina Handbound Journal is and why I make it sound so special, allow me to give a brief introduction.
I still refuse to believe I am fangirling and actually writing about my teenage fascination to boybands. 98 Degrees, The Moffatts, Westlife, Boyzone, Hanson, N'Sync, and last but not the least, Backstreet Boys. What's the big deal? I am twenty-freakin-nine!