wash. rinse. repeat.

i hardly blog anymore.  the outside world has more to offer and random adventures with friends has taken up most of my time this summer (alongside work as well).  and when i do have time to login like right now, i find myself trying to come up with some really good entries only to come out short of nothing. to make up for lack of blogging time i've been keeping myself busy with myspace and facebook (with the later taking up a lot of my downtime at night lately). 

facebook has been a good way of keeping track of old highschool buddies, friends here in WA, kids i work and used to work with and some school chums.  a few days ago i probably wrote the longest email i've ever written in my entire life.  the content of it all is to summarize to my old highschool best friend, paula, what has happened to me in the last 6 or 7 years ... or since the last time i actually saw her in the flesh.  i've also learned that my highschool friends have been slowly making a mark in the world in their own little way.  either by being employed in manila or bacolod in call centers, volunteer work as nurses in some of the hospitals, review and/or passing their respective board exams and trying to achieve their dream of working overseas.  we've come a long way from the blue and white uniform clad girls of the st. scholastica's academy batch of '02.  some of us are mothers, some are married, and some have fiancees.  i'm happy for all of them whether we may be close friends in the past or just plain acquaintances.

in a year it will be my turn to start making my own mark in the real world.  to be honest with you i've been having fears and reluctance about it.  a part of me is not ready yet.  or better yet, a part of me is wondering whether this is what i really want in life. so a few days ago i went to my local library and checked out books about britain.  it has been in my mind for awhile.  i haven't really confided about it to anyone except to a bestfriend.  they said if you really put your heart and mind into something, it will come true.  i want to take a year off (well technically six months because thats all i can legally stay in the UK without a need of a visa).  i want to find myself, find what i really want in life.  ever since i was a kid, i've always been fascinated with europe.  i think britain would be a good start and from there .. who knows.  i've managed to round up a few pennies here and there and in a few more months i can probably afford a ticket and some pocket money.  i've already acquired a passport since 2003.  all i need now is the courage of telling everyone of my plan and mustering enough strength to actually go either alone or with someone. 

i think i need this.  i really need some time to really figure out myself.  a scene from the nanny diaries, a movie i've watched recently, really moved me.  on the screen the HR person asked the main character who she really is, it was an easy question, cake walk as she said but it made her stutter.. it made her think. who is she really? and i have the same dilemma as well. maybe experiencing the world, a different culture, a different environment will help me. or maybe it won't.  i just really need to find my place in the sun.

i remember since preschool to the very last day of my senior year in highschool, i always had milk (the powdered variety it was either Nido or Bear Brand in those days) for breakfast every single day of the school year. i look back to those days with a chuckle because these days i can do without milk if i have to unless I'm desperately craving for a glass of milk before bed. maybe its the stigma of drinking it every day that made me vow not to drink it unless its absolutely necessary or if it's a life and death situation with a gun pointed at my head. these days if i try to drink milk first thing in the morning i find myself dry heaving.  i don't know why.  maybe my body is telling me that i've had enough milk to last me for awhile.

which brings me to think... why did i not grow oh so tall if i've been drinking milk since i was 3 till 16? i'm 5'1". if milk came with a satisfaction guarantee and would reimburse me with cash i would so complain to nido, 13 years of chugging milk and i barely pass 5 feet? what the heck ... of course everyone will say it's genetics.  i do have to thank milk for one thing... since the day i was born i've never had a broken bone in my body even if i have suffered a few horrible spills in the past... that at least is the one thing i can thank milk for.

microsoft unveils surface touch screen computer

no new cellphones, laptops or ipods or any other advancement in digital tech can give me the goosebumps as i watch the video. it definitely feels like its straight out of a sci-fi movies.  i like the idea they presented where it's implemented in the restaurant tables as an interactive menu/ point of purchase.  plus the paint program was pretty nifty too.

i'm proud of myself.  for my mom's get together tomorrow, i made my very first homemade pico de gallo. :)

i've been making pasta dishes on and off for a few weeks now and today i decided to try my hand in making pico. armed from what i learned from my former job i managed to come up with a pretty decent pico de gallo.  mom taste tested it and thought it was good. sweet...and i've never really felt comfortable in the kitchen before.

i wanted to hit myself in the head last night.  an aunt in the family asked me a very unimportant question of where i usually take my classes and i just blurted out "it's near the fisheries building."  how can i forget that my building is named none other than the "communications building". i've been so out of it lately even at work. maybe i should stop watching filipino movies late at night on youtube.

the trip to california was cancelled.  part of me is dissapointed and a part of me seems quite fine with the cancellation. i'm quite fine with spending my summers in WA, it's a beautiful place to be and there's quite a handful of lakes to go to cool off when the temperatures are unbearable.

i'm thinking of coming in for summer quarter term b for a few classes...

internships are a big concern nowadays.  sometimes i can't see myself working for a big corporation though its.. weird.  its like a major step to adulthood.  there's a lot of things to think about and a lot of decisions to be made... paid or unpaid internship? internship at a newspaper or somewhere else where i can still use my degree?  you know that part of life where the decisions you have to make is what to do on a friday night?  i've definitely past that point.

... though i do admit i don't wanna be associated with them.

Abusing ourselves with any kind of substance abuse is a violation of the gift of life—it isn’t what any of us were put here for. And treating rehab like it’s just a strategic career move is practically blasphemous. (patti davis' article on newsweek can be found here)

there was the peace and love generation.  the generation x.  now we have the generation let's get fucked up on drugs because we don't give a fuck.  a lot of kids in my generation grew up privileged and invicible and nothing could touch them.  what we see right now isn't just happening in hollywood, its happening everywhere.  i've seen with my own two eyes a lot of kids my age get fucked up on any drugs they can find.  i've seen kids get excited on week-ends because they can get "hella fucked up!"

what the fuck is going on with my generation?

i watched one of the best concerts i've seen so far this year. 

i saw:
gabriel teodros
common market
and blue scholars...

at RHS. awesome.  the mosh pit was hella fun.  not quite a crowd turnout but it makes it more personal since geo, sabzi, RA scion and gabriel seemed just like an arm length away.

on most days lately i find myself trying to "get" or "understand" me.  for awhile now i've always served as that person my friends come to for advice but i've never really given myself any "advice" on whats going on inside me. alli told me the other day that people are drawn to me "because they tend to look up to you and they feel that you can help them with anything shitty going on in their lives.  you're like a mercy hospital or something." though it makes me feel great that people treasure my company the whole "mercy hospital" line kinda made me iffy.  as much as i'd love to help, carrying my baggage plus everyone else's that i try to help can be heavy at times.  but that's not what this entry all about.  for weeks i've been trying to understand my habit of retaining anger and for holding it in.  the following paragraphs were written in between writing papers.. for me it's a good mental exercise in trying to keep my mind active and flowing while trying to veer myself from thinking of those dreadful papers i have to write. here goes:

As a child, I was taught that anger was wrong. I was always pounced on or made to feel ashamed for being angry, not for what I was angry about, but for the anger itself. When I was angry growing up, I'd be called "overly sensitive", and that I had "a problem", which is probably why I get angry, truly angry, so rarely. Or so it seems.

I don't know how to be angry. When I'm angry, I cry, and I completely lose my voice, or any ability to piece together a coherent sentence, even though I'm ordinarily so good at expressing myself, or at least that's what people say. I hide away where people won't see me, and face the world only when I'm "acceptable" again.

I am a very non-confrontational person, but I am capable of holding in anger and resentment for years and years. It's not something I do on purpose. It was a cycle I didn't know I was stuck in. It went like this: I feel anger, my super-ego tells me that anger is unacceptable, and so instead of releasing my anger, I stow it away in a strong box and bury it in the deepest, darkest, inner-most chamber inside myself, where all the other strong boxes of anger are kept. I then lock the box, throw away the key, then forget about the box, and the chamber for that matter.

But the anger is not gone, it is still there. I forget about them, but always seem to be carrying something heavy within myself. The boxes of anger stay inside and sometimes manifest themselves as a sort of depression. Then years later something triggers the anger and the chamber explodes. Out spills the contents of all the little boxes, in a horrifying and ugly scene, and Melisa doesn't even know where the boxes came from. She threw the keys away a long time ago.

I accumulate anger. For years even. Instead of blowing out steam over the small stuff, I let it all build up until one day, I'm provoked and what comes out is pure guttural RAGE. Then people are shocked. Melisa's gone crazy. She's gone apeshit.  She's always been such a peace-keeper. Where did this outburst come from?

I never get angry. But when I do, it's raw and nasty, and untempered, and ugly. An untamed force of nature.

my generation has reach a point in our time where marriages and engagement are more common than who's dating who and where should we hangout come saturday night.  my bestfriend, sharon met a guy a few weeks ago in texas and on june 9th would be exchanging vows with him.  afterwards she'll be leaving to be with him as an army wife living on an army base in texas (i think).  as her bestfriend she asked me to be their to witness their small, civil wedding.  i'll try my best to save up money and be there for her come june 9th. 

now i realize that i've come to that phase in time where we leave behind our worries about hot guys, make-ups, hook-ups and break ups and worry more about starting a family and getting hitched to that perfect guy.

so oddly enough as i was surfing the web i came across butch dalisay's blog (he writes for the philippine star) and has written an entry regarding his daughter's upcoming nuptial.

It’s a day I’d been trying to imagine for a good many years now. Was I going to cry? (I’ve been weeping buckets, for the silliest reasons.) What was I going to wear? (Methinks a black suit and a silver tie.) What was I going to give the couple? (I’ll tell you soon enough.) Who was she going to marry? (Oddly enough, I’ve never worried about it—Demi’s a smart girl, and will choose wisely.)

Whatever else I do—fathers of brides always seem to manage to make fools of themselves in the movies—I won’t be charged with going to the wedding in scruffy shoes. Maybe that’s the Pinoy in me: look smart, from your toes up; always wear a watch; always change your underwear; don’t let them think you’re clueless, even if you are.

wow. how time flies. and sadly im too scared to even think about when i'm planning to get hitched and with who.  that's the last thing i try to think about.  i've always told myself to never get married before 26 and only to get married when i'm financially stable and mentally mature enough.  but with all these whirlwind romances happening all around me (case in point: my bestfriend) who knows, i just hope i take my mother's advice to heart: do not make the love the only reason to get married.