I am many things
I am nothing
Give me meaning to my senseless gibber
Give me absurdity to puzzling cipher

I am at the north and east
I am at the west and south
Spreading my wings, escaping aboard my thoughts
Scribbling my pen, remisnicing the battles I fought

F l y
with me,my lovely

Let you not be sadden by my waters
Let you not be burned by my embers
For I am the daughter of the wind
And I can ChAnGeD faster than
you can say
"hello" to your shadows...

But for all my flighty
And for the sunshine that hides me
Lies a steady soul
all ready to c rrrr u mm ble beneath
the touch of your lips.

--- Song of Aeolus' Daughter, by Pepperella

Character Mode: Bard-ish

Message from the Saner Character: This blog is screwing up the format of my poem... please visit my treasure trove so you could see what this poem is suppose to look like. --> http://www.allpoetry.com/poets/pepperella

Everyone has their own Achilles heel... even future Dominatrix of the universe - such as I - has weaknesses that I am wary to show to people lest some party-pooper smash my nefarious plans for the world.

But yes, there is also a thing called "the glitch of the universe" where people got sucked in a parallel dimension, getting completely nauseous (and an "all-system-barriers-broken-down" message flashing on the forehead) from the vacuum-ride, and then all the hidden "kryptonites" come a-spilling.

That "glitch" has a name of course... and it's spelled as L O V E.

Yes. Like any other human beings, I - the future Overlord - is prone for the glitch. I used to think that I can never ever succumb to such things but well...

I have found a worthy match... *nodded seriously*

He, the object of my twisted desire, is an annoying-insufferable-intensely-irritating-gnat-under-my-skin. He's waaaaayyyy taller than I am (which makes me worry so much because I probably look like a munchkin next to him... that's not good when you are an aspiring dominatrix), and has this real bad ass image, when actually, he's a real chickadee underneath. He's a nice guy, really... except when he's trying to make me late (or call in sick) for work (and he does that a loooooooot of times).... or when he's always messing around my guillible self (yeye, I'm soft-headed at times... more kryptonites for you to prey on huh?)... or when he'd worry me to death when he's attempting to remake his own version of Kenny (Southpark).

A devil. An angel. My bedeviled angel. He's all this and that... HE NEVER BORES ME!

And my penchant to get interested to anybody who does not fall for me in an instant is another factor for my undoing... he probably think I am this crazy kiddo with a mouthful of highfalutin words spouting forth from time to time (he probably still thinks so until now... )

He never set out to trap me nor tame me... but oddly enough, I am tamed by him.
He never forced his decisions on me... but I find myself asking what he thinks.
He, more than once, pushed me away because he thinks he isn't worthy... but will not be pushed...

And no matter how many times he does that just because he doesnt want me to get carried along with him in the downward currents he himself made, I WILL NOT BE PUSHED!

I will carry him up, no matter how heavy he and his baggage is or else, let me be swallowed by the tides alongside him.

The only way for him to get rid of me IS and WHEN the time comes that he no longer cares for me. But until he said those words with all honesty... and I really do believe in his words... I will never back down...

Afterall, a dominatrix ALWAYS fight for her dreams...

So citizens of the world... practice adulation... the world is DOOMED for my onslaught! *maniacal laugh*

While superheroes needed sidekick/s to save the world, future Overlords - such as I - needed an Igor to do my bidding.

Hitler charmed Mussollini to wage war on smaller countries... Julius Caesar has Brutus by his side... Sinister X has the Marauders do his dirty linens... HIM got Fuzzylumpkins and the Gangrene Gang to moonlight for his diabolical plans... and even Doctor Evil has his Mini Me.

Now, who will I employ under my liege?

The task of finding someone worthy for the open position as my Commander-in-Chief is definitely ardous. I posted an ad on the newspaper, and the responses are overwhelming. In just a day, the mailman arrived in a dumptruck and unload all the letters in my front porch... Cool... Only the Protect-The-Trees activists are now hounding my place, pestering me to recycle all these letters to toilet paper as relief goods to those UN Charities.

Anyweyz, the massive bulk of replies means two things: 1) There are lots of people who recognizes me as a potential success in power-mongering... and 2) there are lots of bums in the world who are willing to apply for ANY jobs just so they could get a deeper meaning of their boring existence and get out of ANGST de ENNUI.

After screening those first three who applied for the position: a ballerina with a penchant for unicorns and pink tutus with a snooty kid scientist named Dexter for a brother (her only passport for consideration...she's waaaaay too flighty for my taste); a sexy, brainy Townsville mayor's secretary with red curls and no face; and a perpetual happy lil demon who loves to bounce (not walk) using his butt (found among the company of Cow and Chicken or Weasel and Babboon), I was submerged in a spiralling doom of depression, reduced me to twiddling my thumb in mental stupor, and made me forgot the luscious blueberry pie leftover from the fridge.

Surely, these people doesn't think all of this talk about world domination is kid stuff??? What would that ballerina do in the face of a battle? Dance them to death??? And Miss Vellum... weird people off from her lack of facial features? And how about that Red bouncing guy? Will he challenge them to butt-bouncing contest??? Jeez...

World Domination is not kiddie stuff... I want BLOOD! I want GORE! I want BLOODY GORIFICIOUSLY .... BLOOD! This is SERIOUS BUSINESS! And I want someone who looks like he can be BLOODY-HELLBOUND!

I am close to having a fit of epileptic seizures from depression, until I came upon the brilliant poem entitled "Chicken Farm" by someone named "darth"... I figured that anyone who can unwittingly massacre 200 chickens has enough bloodthirst passion in his veins to fit my criteria... Here's his bio:

****
Name: Darth

Bio:

People ask me why my screen name is darth. Ok, so mine is like a nickname. My real name is kinda stupid... Anakin... geeze... who names a kid Anakin? I looked for a good alternate, but the picken's were pretty bad. At the time, I was a member of this gang called the Jedi... a real bunch of creeps. They suggested names like "Dumpy" or "Puddles" or "Fat Bald One", but I wanted something cooler...

So anyway, this Jedi bunch had a whole lotta rules you hadda follow and its run by these really nerdy aliens. I only joined 'cause this old guy... and get this name "Qui-Gon Jinn", like kidnaps me from a great job I had on Tatooine and sells me on this Jedi crap. So he gets killed and this guy "Dopey One" or somethin like that, is supposed to teach me the ropes, but he is so friggin' slow and boring about it that I just wanna bolt... but nooooo, you can't just leave the Jedi. So's I challenge him to a duel... bad move... he beats the living crap out of me and slices off one of my hands... MY FAVORITE HAND if you know what I mean.

So I am pissed... really pissed and join this other gang called the Sith who hate the friggin Jedi's as much as I do and they make me a Dark Lord... cool. They were the one's who named me "Darth", but I dropped the capital and became darth.

After that, I was a virgin for several years then took on the guise of a British games keeper... this fooled many, but when my ploy was discovered I quickly changed into a salpoint proactive seal condition. This was not satisfying. Three feet from center, I found that the earth, although appearing to rotate the sun, was actually circling in for the kill. This disturbed many, but I gained solace in the fact that even if proton decay is real, it is circumvented by the fact that few, if any, will live long enough for it to occur. Why the DNA helix alone confused several before officially being declared obtuse.

My kid has been giving me real problems... years ago I let my brother raise him and he turned out rotten. He got involved with this bozo "princess" and she convinced him to join a bunch of terrorists who have been harassing us to no end. We were convinced her government was hiding weapons of mass destruction so I felt it was necessary to free their people by blowing up their planet. So the kid blames ME! Like I started the war.

Anyway, the crazy religion my kid follows, forces him and a bunch of others to do this suicide attack against my Death Star... you should have seen it... it was sooo cool... the size of a moon... it was brand new... still had that new leviathan smell.

Well his chances were little and none of doing anything substantial, so I got a couple of my buddies and we flew out to stop him. We got most of his buddies, but MY son... had to be mine... gets a one in a million shot and takes out my Death Star... a 50,000,000,000,000 dollar piece of equipment! And he gets away before I can ground him. So the Emperor is pissed with me and takes the cost of it out of my salary... damn kids.

Now here's the ridiculous part... We start to rebuild the Death Star... this time we just want to use it as a tourist attraction around this cool jungle planet we found, and maybe blow up a few rebel fleets, but nothing much... Well, before we get it half done, my rotten kid comes back and does it again... AND he kills me and the emperor for good measure. If that isn't an argument for birth control, I don't know what is.

So lately me, that instructor guy I killed a while back named Dopey One... and Yodel his old boss, a little fuzzy green creep, play three-handed pinochle for eternity... bummer. I can't be reincarnated until I can get life insurance... and with my record, that's going to take a long time.

****

Isn't he just perfect???

****

Bidding, Recruiting and Persuasion STARTS RIGHT NOW:

ME: One click at your Chicken Farm poem... that is my undoing...
it made me want some more... and by checking your introduction, oh ho hoooo boy... you just unwittingly gifted me with the Doomsday power of THE Methane Gas... perfect for my quest of world domination... *maniacal laugh*

so darth, since you owe mondo big time mollah to your emperor.. care for doing a sideline planning a third Deathstar under my liege? *evil grin*

DARTH: Whoa, don't even talk about the third Death Star, that turned out to be a real bummer. We ran out of money after the first two and had to make the third out of cream cheese. Couldn't afford armor plating so we just rolled it in nuts. Didn't really scare anyone, but it sure gave them gas... maybe that's where all that methane came from

ME: cream cheese and nuts? hmmm.... economical... you sure don't want the position sir? i'll pay you in advance with a hundred more chickens so you could start up that farm you screw up... and oh, a new cooler screen name so your pesky kid can't find you...

DARTH: I think I have exhausted my luck with chickens. The kid is definitely out of the will. Turns out, he had the hots for his sister. Ewwwwwwwwwwwwww. I didn't raise him that way for sure.

ME: u sure didn't raised him that way... because you didn't raised any.. much less kids... hmmm... in fact, come to think of it, what with failure in chickens, cream cheese, death star, and ur kids... you are ONE RISKY FUTURE EMPLOYEE...maybe i should settle for one of em Death Eaters in Harry Potter...*ponderous... hmmmmmm*

DARTH: I have a very bad track record.

ME: yes... tsk tsk... u gotta clean up my man.. or else incur the wrath of the IRS... hmmm...maybe ur son is a secret agent there doncha think?

END OF BIDDING, RECRUITMENT, PERSUASION

****

And the bloke didn't get to answer anymore... maybe his kid got hold of his hideout and swipe him off from the face of the earth... Oh I forgot... he's already wiped out the face of the earth, playing pinocle with his enemies. Ahhhh... this is making my head pound...

Mussollini is a nincompoop (almost lost his massive troops in a tiny African country, if Hitler didn't give him a hand)... Brutus betrayed his friend and master... Stan Lee always makes the X-Men beat the butts of Sinister's Marauders... Fuzzy and the Gangrene Gang have fickle loyalty with HIM... and Mini Me went pals with Austin.

Tsk... tsk...Who needs Commander-in-Chiefs anyweyz? I am starting to think that I don't... But this just reminded me to start stacking on Alka-Seltzers...

***
Message from the Saner Character: That conversation up there was a real IM conversation. Darth is real... check him out at http://www.allpoetry.com/poets/darth ...

http://allpoetry.com/Poem/715602 --> Check out his Chicken Farm too :D

Great. Burnt eggs for breakfast. What a lovely way to start a new day... Eat burnt eggs, and oh! What is this? Is this rice? Thought so. Although, for a second there I thought our housekeeper resorted into paste-making. Now for some juice to complete the whole breakfast-trio... huwaaaaattt??? no OJ? how about pineapple then? nada? grapes? Pomelo? Ponkan? Mango? Zut, zilch, zero? Only carrot juice? Jeez... I'm done with this health-buff thingy. Gimme back my coffee!!!


***
Message from the Saner Character: Thank goodness for McDonald's... that comforting thought stopped me from morphing into the Queen of Hearts and shouting, "Off with their heads!"

www.blurty.com/users/pepperella

That blurty account is made for amusement / entertainment ... it is my pet project: a space for the release of my delusions about grandiose machinations of supreme rule. But lately, I have been posting whiny snot all over that page because of sometimes, I am completely forgetting the main point of that blurty: World domination! Gushy sentimentality will go way out of tangent in that blog.

***

Organizational Skills are something that I want, despite that fact that my addled brain and my frisbee-persona hinder me from mastering so.

I am a collection of 375 characters jammed inside a puny five-feet -foot frame of pure insanity. Now for want of something consistent, I will try to hack away my tendency to bite, hiss, growl, and snarl by removing my high-heeled spiky Dominatrix boots.

My feet will be naked and not even bunny slippers are allowed to cover them. You will see my ankles, toenails, pink skin, and even callouses... you will see ME: that one atomic spot of ME undiluted by the 376 other particles.

Currently listening to: Spark - Tori Amos
Currently feeling: tesseracting effect

There is one thing constant in this world and that is change.

It is quite unpardonable to not move especially when the world is continually spinning despite the major grivances (e.g. nuclear bomb testings, racial descrimination, terrorist attacks, civil wars, and F4 fans vs. 5566 fans clashes) happening everyday.

The only way is forward... and if you do not move, might as well rot and die. But human beings does not move forward just because the Divine machinations are ordering them to do so. No... Man is a faulty creature. However much the faculty of mathemathics and science can calculate the unending possibilities of the future, the thing is, WE DO NOT KNOW FOR SURE. And the fact that we have a hazy view of the "things-yet-to-happen", some of us are afraid to move.

A stigma of failures and disappointments are the vitriolic devices that rots a person's feet at a standstill and make him whine senseless about how traumatic life can be... make him curl to fetal position, tears mixing with his snot running down his knees... makes him hate the Unseen Hand that pulls strings in our future... and makes him reach for the gun to blow his brains off.

Now there is a particular antidote to this poisonous device... and that is to DREAM. Yes... its quite simple really... when you focuses more on the positive things in life and make yourself believe you could reach it... even in delusions. Reaching for dreams makes you move forward... reaching for it makes you anticipate (not fear) for the future...

Ok... now let's go get an example.

Let's try to debunct the "looming" problem of my life. Brace yourself folks... a heavy introduction is usually the gateway for an equally heavy problem:

BURNT BREAKFAST

Yes... it seems that while we still have our housekeeper, I will constantly be plied by charred meals for ever and ever, amen. Carcinogenic food for eternity... woohoo...

Now, I will dream to banish that goddawful burnt breakfast... I hate that to be the constant thing in my world.

Been wishing that for ages... and lo and behold! The next morning? No more burnt food!!!! And guess what? We do not even have to change housekeeper for that!


Shucks... Dreams do come true *blissful smile*

****

Message from the saner character: I had chicken adobo this morning... *satisfied grin*

I haven't done lists for quite a long time now so I'm posting my all time favorites.

Coffehouse/ Resto-cafe

1. Serg's Cafe @ Ortigas near Shangrila and Megamall -- great ambience (they play Bob Marley here a lot), internet rentals, and cheap coffee that tastes so much like rich sweet cocoa. (P30 - brewed coffee)

2. Likha-Diwa sa Gulod @ UP Diliman Campus -- ethnic/eclectic ambience, ethnic/eclectic music playing for the background, student-artist's work in display, organic-healthy food, yummy cold frothy mocha coffee, cheap Kapeng Barako, and Saturday Nights gig! (there's even an occasional tarot reading and palm reading ;)

Street food

1. Isaw manok
2. Kwek kwek
3. Fishball
4. Kikiam
5. Chicken gizzard

(I could never get tired eating those stuff)

Where I shop

1. Ukay-ukay --> basically means "thrift shop/ surplus shop/ or simple Garage Sale"
2. Any botique that has " Large Discount" displayed on the shop's window.
3. Tiangge/Bazarre

I go to the mall because:

1. To watch the movies with my friends (I prefer watching art films though... not much of the hollywood, but I do watch 'em)
2. To exercise my legs without ever sweating.
3. To hunt for cheap books at any BookSale outlet found in any malls.
4. To exercise my consumerism ability.
5. To look for new designs of clothes that'll help me conjure a new outfit for myself.
6. ... and this will go on, basically blabbing about those things a person do inside the mall... except for one thing though: I seldom buy clothes inside the mall...lol

Past time
1. look up at the stars
2. Plot world domination
3. surrender to my LSS (Last Song Syndrome)
4. Plot World Domination
5. try to finish reading all of those books I hoarded (20 books left... ooops! make that 30! I bought 10 more just yesterday... now if only i have time for this... I loathe reading without digesting whatever I read.... I should stop buying em heavy readings and opt for those light reads... like Chick lit or those gooey romance stuff)
6. Plot World Domination
7. Talk to myself
8. Plot World Domination
9. Spent time in allpoetry.com
10. Plot World Domination
11. Update my myspace journal and blurty blogger
12... Yeah, you should've guessed it by now... PLOT WORLD DOMINATION!

*** to be continued***

"Merry Christmas to you"

I heard the wind whispered that to you. It was melodious, like silver tinklings of chimes moving along my panting breath... my panting breath, silver tinklings, melodious... I think it was me who teased your ears with greetings.

It was the same as everyday. I, moving and moving and moving, dynamically strapped in a pair of rollerblades that has no toepicks for breaks. Who wants breaks when you are given the gift to flirt with life? Only, I think something is wrong, for when I look down to see the tracks I'm burning, I couldn't see lines - straight or crooked, squiggly or curvy... no, no lines at all. I see one big circle, with path falling deeper and deeper until, maybe one day, I am buried - stunted by moving. Funny, how these tiny observation occurs when you least expect it. Even funnier that the graveness actually put a smile on my lips, when it should worry me.

But then, why should it worry me? I'm still moving anyway..right? Yet my skin covered in goosebumps could feel the gravity of this non-linear movement.

the all-shining future.
You...
the butterfly wings of hopeful wishes.
Me...
cotton candy dreams conspiring with happiness.
You and Me.

...stunted by moving... Isn't that such a funny phrase?

[pause]

Maybe in a matter of quasi-seconds, reasons would sink in and spread throughout my body.

In the meantime, my dearest, let me play with my chimes and whisper more in your ears. Who knows when my chimes will break? Who knows when my rollerblades become rusted? Or worse, who knows how many more inches will I dug by my burning tracks until I can no longer see you - my daylights?

Pray, that before that happens, if you still want to hear the chimes, pray that I find my non-existent toepicks first before we get to know the answers to all these questions.

Squeezed eyes shut, closing out crystalled sadness, I am afraid but will wait. Until I hear you say "Stay", let me brush my lips near your ears again and hear me say,

"Merry Christmas to you".

Currently listening to: the soft voices of memories

She arrived, late as usual. Fashionably late, fashionably attired: black top, fire-red skirt, strappy heels, untameable hair, and an apologetic smile that tries to win the hearts that almost got staled from waiting for her.

Of course, her friends already expected lateness in her part. It is, afterall, one of those things you can bet about her... any other else, you won't win with her constant inconsistencies.

She sat beside her gay bestfriend, who also stands as her "pseudo-boyfriend", and nuzzled her head at the crook of her bestfriend's neck. Her bestfriend, in turn, captured her left hand and played with her long fingernails. People are always curious, "What is up with the two of you?"

And answers always came from her. Not him. And she always answer with this statement:

"He's my knight-in-shining-armour" - A universal answer that provides consistency but has double-edged meaning.

To any Tom, Dick, and Harry who eyes her like a possible side-dish Jezebel to play with (while their promised main course Claras await their phone calls) - the meaning means "Go Away"

To any friends that asks, it is explained further with, "He provides me protection from persistent pests."

But does she really means both? Perhaps she does. But I'm guessing that there is a Mrs. Dalloway in her:

"She likes to throw away parties to cover the silence."

And indeed there is silence, overwhelming her to smile a half-smile, mistaken as a mysterious, flirtatious come-on, but really, the other half of her smile is buried and borrowed by her lonely heart.


***

Currently listening to: the wind sweeping her hair

It has been more than a month since I had a fitful sleep. Mr. Sandman probably got tired of me asking for his dream dusts that he might have decided to go on vacation (translation: hide from my peskiness) while his chum Morphius makes another batch of sleeping potion that he ordered.

(Having a blast in Aruba, Señor Sandman?)

It has been a slow painful event for me since the estrangement of me and HIM. And it's an odd thing, because we still talk to each other, but you can feel the wall - almost vibrating, lest I forgot that we are no longer an "US". And I still do forget that we are no longer and "US": I still call him "hon" by mistake, and sometimes mention things from our "before". He just lets my Freudian slips pass, but as for me? I feel pathetic. It just shows how much I cannot control my emotions... it's just another one of those weakness I let him see.

Now why don't I just walk away? Why not scram out of earth and return only when the cosmic balance of my chi is stable again? It's quite simple really: and I'll put it under one of my incurrable vice - one of the seven deadly sins: PRIDE.

(Not LUST you presumptious nincompoop you! :P)

I have promised him FOREVER... that no matter what, I will never ever leave him (and in thinking morbidly, even in death). I don't know what I see myself as before but I guess I was masquerading as his self-appointed guardian angel while in truth I was just a simple fool unwittingly falling for him.

(Yes, please say it... "how foolish of you")

Binded as I am to a promise to him I could never leave even seeing him no longer needing me. It annoys me before how he always teases me about everything about me (looks, clothes, snobbishness, voices, etc) but it annoys me more how I miss that kind of annoyance. And it annoys me even more that it pains me to see how I don't figure in his life anymore.

"No more." Such as sad little sentence don't you think?

And in lieu of pride, I have to show him that I CAN stick to what I promised him (even if he doesn't care about it anymore). I'll show him I am not affected... even when most of the times, I end up like an awkward-teenager-in-the-midst-of-zit-filled-puberty.

It's the game of power.. and control... of keeping yourself together. It's the show of being an adult and tossing problems unmindfully like its just an ugly hat you could easily replace.

But that's just what it is right? A show... just a show.

Currently listening to: moaning stars

Mars Vs. Venus (...and other supporting documents why God still needed to make Eve after Adam's creation)

My orgmate forwarded a humor piece over the PP e-groups by mistake. PP's (Pinoypoets) circulation of mails usually goes around sharing/posting/criticising poems... and this forwarded email is not really for PP type. But then, I'm glad I saw this one... it certainly convinced me of my initial views with regards to existence:

Men are such a simpleton, they bore God five seconds of their existence, that God made another being to livened up things. Yep... We, people of Venus, are perfection that those enlightened male species aspires to be like us... (Translation: do i need to spell it out for you?)

Lemme post here the e-mail's content:

****

At last a guy has taken the time to write this all down Finally, the guys' side of the story. We always hear "the rules" from the female side. Now here are the rules from the male side. These are our rules!

Please note... these are all numbered "1" ON PURPOSE!

1. Learn to work the toilet seat. You're a big girl. If it's up, put it down. We need it up, you need it down. You don't hear us
complaining about you leaving it down.

1. Sunday sports. It's like the full moon or the changing of the tides. Let it be.

1. Shopping is NOT a sport. And no, we are never going to think of it that way.

1. Crying is blackmail.

1. Ask for what you want. Let us be clear on this one: Subtle hints do not work! Strong hints do not work! Obvious hints do not
work! Just say it!

1. Yes and No are perfectly acceptable answers to almost every question.

1. Anything we said 6 months ago is inadmissible in an argument. In fact, all comments become null and void after 7 days.

1. If you won't dress like the Victoria's Secret girls, don't expect us to act like soap opera guys.

1. If you think you're fat, you probably are. Don't ask us.

1. If something we said can be interpreted two ways and one of the ways makes you sad or angry, we meant the other one.

1. You can either ask us to do something or tell us how you want it done. Not both. If you already know best how to do it, just do it yourself.

1. Whenever possible, please say whatever you have to say during commercials.

1. Christopher Columbus did not need directions and neither do we.

1. ALL men see in only 16 colors, like Windows default settings. Peach, for example, is a fruit, not a color. Pumpkin is also a
fruit. We have no idea what mauve is.

1. If it itches, it will be scratched. We do that.

1. When we have to go somewhere, absolutely anything you wear is fine...Really.

1. You have enough clothes.

1. You have too many shoes.

1. Thank you for reading this. Yes, I know, I have to sleep on the couch tonight; but did you know men really don't mind that? It's like camping.

***

Now, this whinings of a man is really amusing. It only indicates there simplistic nature.
And goodness, I just can't resist commenting. See the girl's POV.

Guy
1. Learn to work the toilet seat. You're a big girl. If it's up, put it down. We need it up, you need it down. You don't hear us complaining about you leaving it down.

Girl
"Guys' nostrils must be immune to the stench of "human waste" that it's ok to them that the odor would escape the toilet."

Guy
1. Sunday sports. It's like the full moon or the changing of the tides. Let it be.

Girl
* PMS. No arguements... leave us be.

Guy
1. Shopping is NOT a sport. And no, we are never going to think of it that way.

Girl
* Shopping IS a sport.
1)Shopping is like city's version of treasure-hunting. ;)
2)You use smarts for haggling or discount computations.
3)You improved your stamina from going to boutique-to-boutique, shop-to-shop, mall-to-mall.
4) Testing one's flexibility: Buying a complete party outfit (clothes, shoes & accessories) for only P500.
5)There is competition: imagine the scenario -> "midnight madness sale"
6)Building power and muscle strength from carrying shopping bags and from long distance walking (connected to .2)
7)Strategy planning: finding shorter routes from various shopping places.
8)Sports promotes camaraderie and teamwork. Shopping promotes sharing and bonding.

...and i could go on and on and on and on... but i think you get the idea... if not, boy oh boy... how thick men can be? *grimace*

Guy
1. Crying is blackmail.

Girl
* Only is when you fall for a faker... And if you fall for a faker's cry, who now is the weaker sex?

Guy
1. Ask for what you want. Let us be clear on this one: Subtle hints do not work! Strong hints do not work! Obvious hints do not work! Just say it!

Girl
*Wooookei... Men are such simple creatures. Call it charity, but we are actually helping you guys, to help saved those brain cells dying from non-activity. No wonder guys are prone to Alzheimers more than women.

Guy
1. Yes and No are perfectly acceptable answers to almost every question.

Girl
IF they keep that up, sooner, their vocabulary would consist only of *grunts* ... and then, there goes the start of devolving.

Guy
1. If you won't dress like the Victoria's Secret girls, don't expect us to act like soap opera guys.

Girl
Oh but we do when we have the body for it (if not, then dieting calls in handy)... we'd even wear it everyday if possible... who doesn't want to be admired *wink wink* Meanwhile, please refrain from scratching your thingie in public...

Guy
1. Anything we said 6 months ago is inadmissible in an argument. In fact, all comments become null and void after 7 days.

Girl
Then how come you guys get irritated when we always ask if you love us? You can't blame us from checking if the "i-l-u's" have expiration dates too, you know.

Guy
1. If you think you're fat, you probably are. Don't ask us.

Girl<
Fine... oh by the way, unless you're planning hair transplant, staring at it mournfully over the mirror won’t help it grow.


Guy
1. If something we said can be interpreted two ways and one of the ways makes you sad or angry, we meant the other one.

Girl
"tricky, aren't yah?"

Guy
1. ALL men see in only 16 colors, like Windows default settings. Peach, for example, is a fruit, not a color. Pumpkin is also a fruit. We have no idea what mauve is.

Girl
*sigh* Yeye... we forgive your colorblindness.... poor guys... so many birth defects, and they call us, women, the weaker sex... tsk tsk...

Guy
1. You can either ask us to do something or tell us how you want it done. Not both. If you already know best how to do it, just do it yourself.

Girl
Afraid to bust a fuse when we require you to use your brain?

Guy
1. You have enough clothes.
1. You have too many shoes.

Girls
1. Clothes and shoes are our Shopping sport trophies. And if you are going to complain about them, I'll ask you to clean the armory (where you keep your collection of guns), launder your jerseys and sweatbands, and yes, I'll give out to charity your golf clubs.

Guy
1. When we have to go somewhere, absolutely anything you wear is fine...Really.

Girl
"wow... a permission to wear my 1900's ballgown... or my birthday suit. thanks"

Guy
1. Christopher Columbus did not need directions and neither do we.

Girl
Uhmm... maybe you should rethink your hero, señor. Christopher columbus just "stumbled" upon America, while he's busy getting lost finding Asia.

Guy
1. Whenever possible, please say whatever you have to say during commercials.

Girl
Even when the house is burning?


And oh, guys, while you are "enjoying the wilderness" by your "little camping" (at your backyard), I did take notice of your numbering ("Please note... these are all numbered "1" ON PURPOSE!" )... and yes, I do know what it means... it means you don't know what comes next the number "1".

***
Message of the Saner Character: Pertaining to the "crying is blackmail" quote.

"My grandmother said, "there are two things why women cry: First, when their life is upset; and second, when they are about to upset yours." -> Viola Bacia Tutti. (More on this movie when I get the time to make a review of it).

Skin is definitely a way to incite reactions...in various levels.

***
Camisole Story Number One
***

Four years ago, me and a college friend planned to pose topless behind a camera. As Interdisiplinary students who were munching literary books for breakfast, drinking art galleries' soul for lunch, and theorizing the delusions founded by bunny-shape-clouds in the sky while eating fishballs at the Sunken Garden, we have grand visions for ourselves:

We wanted our person be viewed as an object and our youth be immortalized in negatives

(Bleeping Id: Great. While some other kids in college dreamed of being in the corporate worlds, slaving for the system and enslaving others for the system, me and my friend were aspiring to be nude models.)

With me and my friend posing side by side, we would've provided the perfect contrast: my long wavy hair falling to cover my chest, her straight hair falling to cover her chest; my fair skin, her dark skin; my full lips, her thin lips; and my petite bones, her tallness.

As we already have a photographer (a friend whom we can trust not to pirate the negatives and have it distributed to various uhhmm... markets)...

(Bleeping Id: Our vision is strong but popularity is too much. Hmmm... Maybe we should've commissioned a follower of Picasso instead? )

... we would've that vision materialized long before, had we not been bothered by other worries such as: homework, projects, org meetings, movie reviews, poetry reading nights...

(Bleeping Id: ...and worrying how to take off a couple of pounds from the waist area so that we would look good on photos...)

...etc. etc.

(Bleeping Id: ... and we continue to worry still while conferencing our diet plans among savory porkchop menus at Manangs)

***
Camisole Story Number Two
***



Of course, repression will resurface at some point. Four years later, I am reduced to a bored blogging creature of the Internet who cannibalizes herself in every possible way:

Pet Project #5: How many will see pass the skin? (see the picture above)

My follow-up questions will be: 1) Is this sensual? Or just basically jerk-factor? 2) Does the brain stem for imagination stalks down the south hemisphere of a male’s body? If so, how many times does the penis imagine?

I posted the picture as my primary photo in friendster…I have such a nice set of supportive friends:

“Ay! Ang taray ng lola mo!”
“Wow! Diva na diva!”
“Keri!”
“Astig ang pagka-sepia… anong camera ang gamit mo?”
“Twit-twiw”

But then, those that said that are girls and gays. And oh, there’s also a small deviation though: “Vaaaaaan! Ano yun? Parang poster ng bold movie!,” said my ala-Maria Clara fellow PRO in our poetry org.

So I posted it in my myspace account. Lo and behold! In the span of 5 days, I am already swamped by friends requests and IMs – average 5 invites and 3 IMs a day (that’s 15 IMs for 5 days – only 3 are uumm… “innocent” in content). Suddenly, I am a celebrity of skin, spiraled to the abyss of attention by males who favored their own isolated body parts as their identification. (Bleeping Id’s translation: yung mga lalakeng penis ang main picture sa profile)

Thinking about the statistics, I think I have reached the “vision” of becoming an “object” (RE Youth) captured in a still shot, separating the person from the body. Unfortunately though, instead of being viewed as an object of art, I am viewed as an object of lust – a situation that my Filipina prudishness is vehemently protesting.

For a long while, I was thinking of ending the project and changing my primary picture into a sepia shot of my shoes… or my raggedy ann dolly. But those are thoughts done with hot blush on my cheeks.

***
Camisole Story Number Three
***

Then HE saw it and commented, “Van…what is up with those almost naked pic?”

This time, I can feel my ears whistling from the boiling steam…the roots of my hair resembles red carpet. You can call me, “beetroot” that very moment. And boy was HE ever so direct!

“Feeling kinky, huh?”

My sensibilities went bristling with indignation but poise won over so I tried to answer him with my “visions of poetics from college” as best as I can.

“Sure, sure. Admit it. You’re aiming at a sexy playful online flirt pic.”

And the beetroot became a fire-breathing dragon. Scowling, I was all ready to bludgeon him to pulp IF he was near vicinity. Thank his lucky star this was a ym conversation.

(Bleeping Id: Wokei...me think i need to take karate-lesson first before I spout bloody murder. Five feet tall pitted against five feet ten looks real shrimpy

“Why won’t you just admit that you’re aiming for the sexy look? Nothing wrong with that.”

True. There’s nothing wrong with showing off some skin and celebrating my confidence. Nothing wrong with hinting sensuality, winking playfully at everybody, and admitting that “yes, I was aiming for the sexy look”. So why deny it?

Because I thought he thinks I look ridiculous. Suddenly, the project’s statistics became inconclusive. Who cares about those horny dweebs who IMs me anyweyz? They’re just part of the survey. What HE thinks matter to me, but of course, since I have a temperament of a hungry termite trapped in a metal box, and pride akin to a pampered pet poodle, I refuse to let him know that his very direct statements sting. For someone like me who lives and moves in a bourgeoisie’s euphemized world and sanitized id, mincing words are common practice.

Most of the times I thought he thought I am ugly… and too child-like to be considered as sexy. Sometimes I thought that if a man can reduce my self-confidence, then it’s not worth being with him. And at those times, I wish for someone else... but even when I tried (believe me when I told you I tried), the gnat is firmly stuck under my skin.

I was also thinking of taking the photo down, but my petulance got the better of me… and suddenly, for whatever kind of anito possessing me, I was saying things I didn’t plan in the first place: “Next time I’ll be naked! No clothes whatsoever! I’ll ask my gay bestfriend to take shots of me in the nude. How’s that for kinky?”

(Bleeping Id: Talk about sounding childish... geezus)

But he said something that dropped all my indignation and forgive his oh-so-American tongue. For all his directness, the guy has an issue when it comes to telling what he really feels. And I know when he said those statement (of which will not be revealed in this journal...lest a "minion" steal the line and sampled the effect of it), I know now that he thought I am beautiful.

Message from the saner character: I guess the rationale of my falling so deeply for the gnat is that he pulls me down to earth when I am flying so high with my dreams.

Currently listening to: White Horses by Tori Amos

There are about a gazillion trivial things that happen in a day. Things that may seem unimportant can past off as relevant to those people who were looking for signs or clues that would decipher life’s mysteries.

It was raining really hard that bleak November afternoon. You were supposed to come visit me in my new place in Sampaloc but the rain made in impossible to know for certain if you would come. I wouldn’t bet on it. You’ve broken too many promises already. You’ve scratched off too many hopes of getting together. What chance would I stake on seeing you today?

A part of me wished that you wouldn’t come… but more than half of me wishes to see you badly that I searched the sky to look for clues. The rain stopped: my first sign. I smiled.

And so you came when odds tells me that you wouldn’t. You look thinner and darker from the last time I saw you. What have you been doing these days I wonder? You were wearing a black leather jacket over a blue jersey-like t-shirt that has the same hue as the blouse I was wearing that time. It’s amazing how we seem to unconsciously wear the same color of clothes whenever we meet up. Sign number two: Color-coded clothes. I smiled.

Your guitar was slung over one shoulder. I remembered you saying that you were on your way to practice with your band. I remembered you saying you’d play for me. I remembered you promise me a song or two. I hoped you’d fulfill it. I hoped we’d have a nice day today. We made our way up the stairs to the dorm’s rooftop. At this time, the sky is clear with a few smattering of feathery clouds and unhindered rays of the glaring sun. Nice day sign: Glaring sun and clear sky. I smiled.

You sat across me, looking serious. You reached for your guitar and brought out some music sheets. You picked out one song. I was holding my breath in anticipation, wondering what the first song might be. And you strummed a familiar tune… something I’ve heard before but don’t really care about. I sat back and listened to you play.

“This is the last time / that I’m ever gonna be here tonight”

The rooftop is an ideal entertaining place for visitors. I remembered postponing a guy friend’s visit just so you could have the honor of being the first one I’ve brought up to my favorite stargazing spot. You are that special to me. You were here today charming me with your music. Transfixed by your dexterous strumming, I failed to hear the ominous first line of the song…

“this is the last time - I will fall / into a place that fails us all – inside”

… and even the ominous second line. I tried to look into your eyes behind your ever-present aviator glasses. But you weren’t looking at anywhere except at the music sheets. Still, I tried to peer.

“I can see the pain in you/ I can see the love in you”

And then you looked up at me and caught me staring at you. You held my gaze for three seconds before looking back down the music sheets.

“but fighting all the demons will take time/ it will take time”

And I looked up the sky with the smattering of feathery clouds – looking every bit like angels’ wings –

“the angels they burn inside for us/ are we ever/ are we ever gonna learn to fly”

- and I squint at the glare of the sun – fiery like devils’ ire.

“The devils they burn inside of us/ are we ever gonna come back down/ come around/ I’m always gonna worry about the things / that could make us cold.”

And here I caught the lines at last… the song started to emerge like an ominous soundtrack of our relationship (or the lack of it). The sun was definitely hot; I felt a trickle of perspiration went down the side of my face but, oddly, I felt cold inside. Did you picked out this song for a purpose? Were you trying to say something to me?

“This is the last time / that I’m ever gonna give in tonight/ are there angels or devils crawling here?”
“I just want to know what blurs and what is clear/ to see”

We were in a gray area: not really friends but not really lovers. We loved each other but there were some things in our lives that ruled out a relationship for both of us.

“Still I can see the pain in you/ And I can see the love in you”
“and fighting all the demons will take time/ it will take time”
“the angels they burn inside for us/ are we ever/ are we ever gonna learn to fly/
“the devil they burn inside of us/ are we ever gonna come back down – come around/”
“I’m always gonna worry about the things that could break us…”

Every note poured significantly. Lyrics echoed those words you’ve always said before we harbored the gray area. You told me you have issues in your life that you need to fix. You said you wouldn’t want me to get involve. And so I cut back from my demands of your time and gave you the space you needed. You asked if I would accept you despite the fact you are into deep with the band scenario and have tasted stuff that would otherwise balk a two-goody-good-shoes girl like me. Yet I gave you my acceptance readily, despite the fact that my friends thought me mad for my decision. You sought trust and understanding about your colorful past. And I gave it in an instant. In fact, I gave you ten thousand assurances that I love you. Yet you still worry. You hurdled secrets at me you think I wouldn’t be able to accept. You assumed about those things that we would fight for in the future. You supposed I wasn’t ready for a commitment. You believed wrong: I am ready to be committed only if it’s you.

“If I was to give it / give it up/ and then/ take a breath/ make it deep/
cause it might be the last one you get/be the last one/
that could make us cold/ you know that they could make us cold/
“I’m always gonna worry about the things that could make us cold”

But pride is something we have in common. My pride got tired of waiting for the time that you would give me the attention I sought. So I told you I’ll be walking out of it… and you let me go. I wanted you to kiss me and tell me I need not go. But I guess I was asking too much. You have your own pride. It’s what kept you from running after me.

We are in a gray area: not really friends but not really lovers. Considering the fact that I was the one who walked away, it was a wonder that I invited you here. Considering the fact that you have a busy schedule ahead of you, I am amazed that you’re here. Not really friends but not really lovers, we just couldn’t keep away from each other can we?

As you strummed the last note, I realized that impish Fate had her eyes focused on us. I was looking for signs before you came here, and Fate gave us the biggest gist (the fourth sign): this song you're playing. I smiled… bittersweetly.

Message from the Saner Character: Sometimes going back from the past enables you to move forward and deal with your present baggages :) This one's dated way back November 2003.

Currently listening to: the pouring rain
Currently reading: love etc by julian barnes (again)

Six hours ago, I was kissing my Pinoypoets (PP) buddies goodbye at the Sunken Garden after the meeting for the Folio poems selection at Likha Diwa. They are going to the UP Fair, and I am going home to sleep.

*Yawn*

"I have work at 4 am mga mahal ko sa buhay... kelangan kong matulog para mabyuti ako kapag binanggit ko ang opening spiel."

It was obvious that I am dead set of going home, so they dangled the chosen carrot for me: "Van, babalik pa siya."

"Ha? Ok," I said, smiling wanly, and then I waved at them goodbye. This is the first time that I passed up a PP bonding for sleep, but since they know I am kinda anal about my work, they just have to let me go.

*snort* Bullshit work! I was running away.

***

Anyone who has read my blogs (or goes to PP "numan session) knows that I have an omnipresent "HE" that governs my life. HE is the ghost that never fades, the torch that makes me write, and the memories that makes me smile.

Yeye, I know. I sound like a bleeping basketcase of a masochist with a heavy duty hallucination going on, but that's how it is when you call purgatorio (getting over phase) your comfort zone.

But tonight, HE is nowhere: this is the start of my blonde dilemma.

***

A knowing smile transfered to another observing eyes, to another to another to another. Everyone sees I wasn't acting like the "blonde" vanessa that is ever present: the bubbly, noisy, talkative self-appointed PP mascot.

What is up with that?

I have developed an interest in a guy without the initiation of boredom - meaning, I like this guy simply because i like him... not because he is "challenging" (translation: those high-handed prick that needs to get his due in bringing down his horse or those two-timing slimeballs who hit on plunging neckline-wearing girls).

There is something in this guy that interest me enough to make me pause and just... feel. His closeness. Observe. His movements. And listen to his voice... he really has a nice voice.

For one whole day, I never ever thought of the omnipresent HE in my life... and it scared the shit out of me when I realized that my Sabbatical for warding off prospects is coming to an end. And the scarier part? I am interested to know if I hold any interest to him... for all I know, he's just really really into poetry that's why he braved our council tete'-a-tete' like no other new members would. And besides, he might have a girlfriend tuck away from the background.

I have a "ditzy blonde airhead" reputation to maintain, but since I don't feel quite so schizophrenic-ish tonight, I can't push the flirt mode button. So I'll just go home and sleep.

"Sige guys, una na ako. Tulog pa ako eh."

"Ha? Eh pano si [bleep]. Yiheeeee" (Pffft....matchmakers... *mutter mutter*)

If I'm in the airhead phase, I'd just toss my hair and wink teasingly in response. But I am me that night, and all I could afford is one pathetic "Eep" accompanied by something that looks like a warm-colored rouge in my cheeks.

***

Three hours of tossing and turning in bed for that elusive sleep, I got up to write this shit, and then spend two hours staring at the monitor just debating whether I am going to post this or not.

Guess which decision won?

PS: I'm safe. Why? 1) There are more people who wishes to be heard than people who likes to listen. 2) Time (lack of it). 3) This is the age of MTV... ADHD is like a common trait now to the generation rather than a disability. My point? Long blogs are boring.

Currently listening to: crickets' symphony

i am bored. my eyes are droopy but i cannot sleep. my back aches. my favorite pair of sandals is broken. i miss staring at the moon without the niggling feeling of work at 4 am. i miss the mornings. i miss complaining about the morning traffic. i miss a whole lotsa things because , frankly, i am bored.

down with love. i love that movie because of the fashion chorbah, not because of the cheesy content. i am that shallow. sue me.

spinsterhood. amazon credo. break alpha-males' balls. iron maiden. bash bash bash. old lady living in a cute cottage in the middle of the woods. seven cats. hairball galore. the old woman turned her head to look at you... Hi! It's me.

he saw me. i saw him. im interested. but im not ready. my angel said, what is real is what is happening right now. tomorrow, it'll be different. he will not affect me because i will not let him. so i want a shredder. or a garbage compactor. your smiles will be purged. tabula rasa. i would love that... heyyyy, he looks familiar? do i know him?

last conversation. down in the dumps. it was the cold weather you said. and you were tired. just freaking tired. i wish i could give you my eyes so you could see what i see when i look at the world. rose coloured. sun shiny smiles. happy happy twenty bunny. you cannot dream even if i whispered. you see black roses. i insisted it's pink. and yellow. and silver with aquamarine soft thorns. you aren't moving. no words ever came out of your mouth. just tired you said.

i hope the next time i catch you, if i catch you, the weather will be warmer. damn winter.

and damn, i miss you.

Message from the saner character: him, you, and i. someday the sky will be clearer.

Currently listening to: you don't know me by jan arden
Currently watching: down with love (ewan mcgregor - renee zellweger)

"Ever come across this Zen koan that JD Salinger used in one of his books? You know, the one that asks what is the sound of one hand clapping. I don't know the answer to that one. But ask me what's the sound of one heart breaking and I might have an answer." Karen Kunawicz

Somehow I just needed a quote here for an introduction, but it wasn't anything drastic as my heart breaking.

I know the sound of a broken heart all to well to know that this time isn't like the last time: my heart only said "ouch".

***

He already has a girlfriend. I was right in supposing that he already have one. I was right in taking my time and pausing before going for the kill (translation: asking him out for a get-to-know-each-other coffee tete'-a-tete'). I was right in thinking things through...

And I feel right in knowing I was right.

*happy happy grin*

***

I was asking the fates to settle these things so that I wouldn't have to make any choice. There was the case of choosing between to dream about the future for the past or living the present to move forward to the future..

....to dream or to live reality.

The omnipresent HIM is not here... and current-interesting-specie HE has a "forbidden fruit" tattooed on his forehead. So that crossed out "this" or "that", and I am left with... ME.

...the sky became clearer at every nanosecond of breathing. Just two days ago, I was bleeping bothered by the sudden imbalance of my emotional scale. But now? Whatdoyouknow?

I am happy happy happy... hehehehe

Message from the saner character: There is happiness in getting out of the responsibility of choosing.

Currently listening to: Lets get it on by Marvin Gaye
Currently reading: On the Verge by Karen Kunawicz