simple foggy thoughts on a foggy morning


So maybe I am feeling nostalgic today.

I woke up to a foggy day.  Something to do with things being white and blurry that makes you recede back in your thoughts.  The mind is a dangerous place to explore on your own…It’s how people commit suicides without them meaning to –it’s as if they just got carried away only to find that they either come back limping for the rest or their lives of they give their earthly space for the living.  The earth is suffering from overpopulation too, they might as well do the right thing and fade away.

Not that I feel like taking my own life.  I care (well not enough anyway) neither for the growing population nor climate change, I am hanging on to dear life.  I am selfish like that.  And yes, I silently cuss and mutely ask for death when I walk on the effin cobblestones they have here in Lacoste but so does everybody.  If God was so obliging, he could have gotten rid of us, but pathological shallowness does not count as a reason to obliterate. Continue reading

Morning thoughts

It is too early.

Too early for me to think things I could put off till later.

I think Girlie caught my habit of waking up too early as she is up and busy now in the kitchen prepping breakfast.  The only catch is I get to listen to some cheesy music that I have to constantly bite my tongue.  The music just sang the word “over” five times consecutively— and it made me stare at the screen for bewilderment.

The first rendition of the word “over” was quick and smooth, then the next one had this prolonged stretch in the second syllable, the third hada different inflection, fourth, a repetition of the third, and in the fourth, the singer made it possible to say “over” in more than the two syllables it needed. Deym!

I will force myself not to count the word “baby” in the song.  But judging from the first two stanzas, the song is bound to have a lot.  Why is “baby” so common these days.
And why the heck would you want to call your partner that?

Why is everybody overlooking the fact that living with a baby is like living with a drug addict.
They cry for nothing, fight over nothing, they are warm and cold in an instant.
They steal your food, your money, and time.
They encroach your private space and is not apologetic to ruin your schedule.
And the reason they get away with all these is that they are cute.
And cute is ok for ten years old and below. Continue reading

5 ways to know that I’m not in the mood

No i’m not talking about sex.  But when you are not in the mood sexually, I’d recommend for you to feign sleep or better, pop a sleeping pill. That way it becomes non-negotiable.  Both get what they want. you get your peace and your partner can party all by himself and you won’t hear or feel a thing.  But that is gross, so dump him after.

Women may not talk about it but a lacking sexual desire is common amongst us.  This lack of libido is called Hypo-sexual Desire or HSD.  This is actually a common case amongst clinicians– about 1/3 of all sexually adult women suffer from this due to reasons like stress, relationship problems, illnesses,  and pregnancies.But there are three stages in a woman’s sexual phase, it’s desire, climax, and orgasm —if you are desirable and  your partner still doesn’t want you, it can be the case above.  But if you have doubts in your desirability, you may want to hit the gym class— but I would suggest you join the Toastmaster’s club…why? because women are auditory, moron.  Our desires are heightened by what we hear you say not how you look.

But for all my non-sexual “Not-in-the-mood” moments, its hard to drop dead in the mall—- so I do these 5 five things. Continue reading

10 Important Life Lessons


1. Love your mother, respect your mother-in-law – What will you get from hating your own mother? bad karma.  But not as bad as the karma you would get by disrespecting the mother of your partner. Why? Your mother will always forgive you, your mother-in-law won’t.

2. Avoid unhappy people  because they are unlucky – There is nothing wrong with helping but to get caught in the misfortune of drowning in someone else’s problems is just plain dumb.  Happiness is a choice and you cannot make someone happy who chooses to be unhappy.  Otherwise you will end up using too much resource (be it financial or not) that you would find yourself in the same or worse  hole than he/she is currently in.  These unlucky people are sometimes ungrateful who sees nothing right in anything.  Stay away from negative vibes.

3. Experiment – you only get to live once, you might as well make the most out of it. Continue reading

silent ode to the invisible.

My lips are numb.
My fingers are too stiff.
My eyes are dry.
My mind too weak to find excuses.
My spirit too disillusioned to even dream.

So this is how one feels when one is at a loss.
When one sees reality all too plainly.
When one gets stabbed with the sharp truth.

Can I ask for immunity?
From the pain?
From the mounting hurt?
From the fear that chokes?

Can I borrow?
a shallow laugh to wipe the tears away.
a hollow hug to make the burden a little lighter?
a reckless moment where I can run so I can chase my floating dreams.
a crayon to color the moments of solitude.
a longer sleep to oblivion to wash the nagging truth.

Can I, just for once… pass through walls?
…through people?
…through time?
to wander aimlessly…
to touch the stars…
to burn with the sun…
to laugh with the waves…
to conquer dragons…
to name new lands…
to create new worlds…

humming silence wanders across the room and beyond. Along with it is my roaming mind, chasing the red diaries of the sane, prevailing beyond the hateful reality of not being able to vanish upon will. All the while preparing the sheets… tying them together, making sure it is roped correctly, tied tightly to the window, as I prepare to jump to the little escape the world is offering.

Outside, I see no one familiar.
Outside, I will not be suffocated with lies that once drove me to madness.
Outside, no walls to abide and no bricks to scamper from…no cup to pour my blood on…no boxes to store my heart…No smoke to make me cry.

Outside…where there is nothing to hold on to and everything is new. Where the strings no longer have its magic and the words pure and true.


Lazy thoughts.

It’s like drugs.
You get addicted to it.
You cannot say no.
You get angry for no reason.
You get so consumed that you feel lost in your madness.
And when the hype is all gone, you feel there is no reason for living anymore…or to get out of bed to do something stupid.

There are some days when i am so certain about what i want. Some days, I just don’t know what to do with myself. And so i try to creep in into the depths of what remains inside to justify all the sudden hurting i feel.
There is nothing to do? I feel useless. It’s these times that I feel neglected. It’s these times that I am annoyed for no apparent reason.
Be it the sudden banging of the door.
The shrieks of the neighbor.
The slow careful steps outside my bedroom door.

Left on my own, slouching in bed, worrying over useless things and imagining even more useless things, I tend to find peace. In the oddest sense of feeling useless and exuberant to be able to laze around, I find a serenity that my working days has robbed me. Growing up with a mom to fuss over me and a nagging nanny who directly reports to the parental authorities, I find it hard to find a special space of my own to think my tinker thoughts. Now, with no mom and no nanny to invade my personal sanctum, unleashed and free to do whatever that was not allowed before, I find myself confused and with no direction. So many things to do and wanting to do it all at once —- it is making me dizzy.

I tell myself, growing up is like learning how to walk.
One step at a time.
One single step towards whatever you want.
One single step towards experimentation and idiosyncrasy.
And if the steps are proving to be slow ones, hop and jump, and even roll.
Laugh while you’re at it.
Stomp if it frustrates you.
Be careless if need be.
Just avoid being chained again.
Refuse to be tied to anything.
Leave whatever that entails imprisonment.
Cry when you want.
Forget if things got too hurtful.
Take pills if you cannot sleep.
Do not growl. You don’t have to be ugly to look tough…but it helps.

and if the world got too noisy, I remind myself that I can always retreat to my own secret hiding place where no one will be admitted.
If the world got too rowdy, let them fight among themselves.
If the world is starting to get smaller, find another planet and alien to play with.

You don’t have to conform.
You don’t have to follow.
You play by your own rules.
Be polite to the nasty and be patient to the idiots.
Observe. Understand. and play with people intelligent enough to understand your game.

Be silly.
Avoid buses when driving.
Get a license.
and don’t stop learning how to cook.

give me a farewell kiss

Special moments are moments that don’t last a lifetime…but you tend to be remember them forever…they get stuck somewhere between the right hemisphere of our brain and our tonsils – where we the push button is readily available for pushing. They haunt us and often bring about memories we would always think to be too good to be true…or too scary that we ask ourselves why we did it.

they fly too fast.
they taste so sweet…
and they often warm the soul or leave us cold…
so goodbyes become so hard when preceded by such an experience…
goodbyes don’t really matter without those experiences.
as farewells are not necessary between people who treat eachother as strangers.  
Even enemies, as they say goodbye to eachother feel a sense of nostalgia and a loss of purpose especially when they’ve hated eachother for a long time.
Goodbyes only hurt if you don’t want to say it.
But goodbyes are enivitable.
Every beginning has an end just as life has death. But goodbyes are also choices… others kiss eachother’s cheek as a sign of farewell because they choose to, others just do it inspite of themselves. We human beings just love to cut ourselves deep…just to know if we are still alive…coz the fact of the matter is, a too-sweet-life is numbing…and goodbyes are knives to make us bleed to live again…

suicide at 12

She instantly became a star when she decided to loop her neck a cord and died and she was only 12 years old.

She decided to take her own life because they were poor and her parents are always fighting . Before she died, she asked her mother let her work in the factory, the same place where her mom’s a worker. She was scolded so she went him –hurt, sad, and possibly confused.

When she died, they found her diary and inside it, they were able to read a part of her tormented soul. It’s been a month already since she last attended school, she wrote.  They don’t have enough money for food and transportation. She wrote she wanted to be a nurse. She wants to be the one to bring her family out of poverty.

Another entry was about her feelings towards her parents when they fight

How can one so young, feel so old?
Where can one so young get enough courage to take her own life?

I am a mother, and this type of news really makes me uncomfortable. When I saw it on tv, I immediately remembered my eldest daughter. Ever since her father and I called it quits, I’ve noticed a certain maturity in her. I would catch her looking at our wedding pictures and she would look so sad. She’s still the vibrant little girl she was but she’s started to have outbursts, she’s more stubborn, and there are moments where she is just quiet. I’ve always brushed this aside, hoping that one day, I could explain to her why. She is just a kid. I missed her suddenly.


Being able to understand and acting out of understanding are two different things…

Just because you understand, doesn’t necessarily mean that one is rational in answering such understanding. A kid may understand, but they may not know how to deal with it. In the sad case of this twelve year old girl, she answered it by taking her own life because she understood how hard their life is, how poor they are, how mean circumstances are…that and more.She knew…but that alone didn’t drive her to suicide.  Not knowing how to deal with all of it, is the real culprit.

So many things have shown her that life is hard, unfair, and cruel…but nobody was there to convince her that life can also be beautiful and that it should be cherished.

She didn’t knew the value of living, no one taught her.
And as a parent, no matter how busy we are, no matter how depressed we are, that is one lesson we should try to teach, no matter what.

A hug.
A simple pat.
A conversation.
A simple praise.
Having a composed demeanor.
Being calm.

We mold them not only with what we say to them but with the type of life we live. And thus, to effectively teach them how good life can be is to show them how to be grateful and happy with little things.

But how can we make them face life and at the same time retain their innocence? I am also looking for answers.  I am struggling myself.  It’s a double edge sword…and I might die bleeding.

twisted relationships

I’m your typical girl.
I am brown-skinned, I have a long black mane.
I wear casual clothes – usually a V-necked top that extends around 5 inches below my knee, jeans, flip flops or sandals…usually these days, I wear my havas coz they are comfortable.
I have my big purse, the kind that looks as if I’m stowing away from home and my mobile phone on right hand.

In some days, I look tousled — as if I just got lucky last night — where I have that sultry look where a secret grin is almost concealed…a grin most likely because I’m sharing a private joke with this gorgeous man beside me.

And the moments we’ve shared are all worth its weight in gold.
Not only does he make me laugh, he brings me food when I’m in the mood to eat pizza and nothing else, or he would spoil me with ice cream if he thinks the time is right. He cleans my place if it’s too messy…He brings me the latest lip gloss that will soon eventually become my favorite until he brings me another one.
We stare at each other’s eyes and faces while we stifle our giggles.
we do little hand signals that drives us to blush.
He touches my face, he whispers funny little nothings.
We banter.
we tease.
we flirt…

just about anything a great relationship can give you.

He is the perfect man — for that next hottie to pass by.
You see, he is my gay bestfriend.
And no matter how good looking he may look- fact remains that we both prefer the same sex.
Relationship with a gay friend, especially with a good looking one is the ultimate friendship with the opposite sex.It is a friendship where boundaries need not to be vague as there is no line to cross in the first place.

His number is the most dialled and texted number in my phone.

I see something good, I have to tell him.
I lost my purse, my phone, my heel broke, I’m stranded, I have no money, I found a lottery ticket, i forgot something, my ear hurts, I have a bad hair day ….everything — he must know…

I go to his place often or he stays at my house for sleepovers.
We have a favorite restaurant.
We ogle men at the gym.

It is, in many ways, overwhelming.  One fatal mistake most women do is they start to compare the men they meet to the fag they so love. And most often than not, the men end up short.

Men are clumsy, they are insensitive, and they hate shopping.
Most often than not, the emotional support you get from them is a grunt and his span of attention is as long as that advertisement running on tv.

Most of us  women who has a gay bestfriend wish to have a relationship with men that reflects the one that we have with our fab fag. Someone who can understand us when we rant about how the weather makes our hair dry, or how our officemate is trying to ruin our work, or how we find the shoes of Carrie in Sex and the city just irresistible. Someone who knows the value of a sale. Someone who would go crazy over the next johnny depp film. Who stops to watch baseball to accompany us to the theatre –and that is a tall order…and something that we might not want if served in a silver platter….and besides…our gay bestfriends would trade the giggles he’s having with us for a great night with another gay lover.

End of rant.

i’m still sick

Do you know that shot that you’re supposed to give your child to boost their immune system? what do you call that? ( insert name here ) yes that…well, my mom, decided that i can skip that shot and the shots to follow…the only shot i got was a tetanus shot.

I got it when the wound i got from a pedicure got infected and my big toe was swelling like a tomato– and I’m terrified of needles.  They had to have three male nurses chase me to have that injection —  i was already 21 then 0.O

Fear of needles is something i got from my mom. In her fear of needles, she decided to not get me my shots. Come to think of it, when i had my four molars taken out…she left me at the dentist with our neighbor looking after me, while she is outside the building…doing…i don’t know…pacing i guess…

so here i am, one cough from someone passing by, and i get sick.
a little drizzle and my temp would go up.
Someone sniffing, gets me sneezing in no time.

maaaannnnn….it’s so annoying, especially when you can’t breathe and you have a gallon of ice cream in the fridge. why, oh, why does it have to be meeeee?!!!!