What a moronic thing to do

No, I wasn’t in Starbucks and that’s not a Starbucks coffee. The photos were taken inside my school, and that cup is a brand that is way cheaper compared to Starbucks. I purposefully posed in that manner and made a douche out of myself just for this blog entry, but I will never be one of them—ever. Those social climbers who are brandishing their “sophistication” in social networks like Facebook. Sure, it’s okay if you got two, three, or maybe four photos inside Starbucks, but if you got a whole damn album and you’re not just sitting and smiling but MODELING the frigging coffee for humanity’s sake!—then that makes you a stinking MORON. What are you, Starbucks endorser? Did the company pay you to do such a thing? If they did, they just flushed their money down the toilet because I will never buy it.

But if the coffee looks cuter than your face… then make the cup your account’s profile picture by all means. You agree with me? My middle finger is for you.

That's what Lizzy said

Good day everyone! This is the VERY FIRST ANNIVERSARY OF MY BELOVED BLOG!!! <*applause, applause*> so allow me to be a little self-centered now. (This is my blog anyway so what is it to you? Nya-ha-ha.) Maybe it’s a little late for me to “formally” introduce myself to you my faithful followers—to two, or maybe three of you—because I’ve been in the blogging scene for exactly a year now so if I had planned on introducing myself, I should’ve done it in the very first day of my life as a blogger, I know. The trouble is I didn’t. Before, I planned that this blog is going to be my random opinions about random issues but it’ll not be a blog about me. Sure, sometimes I write something that requires a great number of brain cells when I feel the inkling to sound intelligent, but the thing is, my views about the world is not exactly about the world than it’s about me. I realized that our perception about the happenings around us, our opinions, reactions and thoughts talks about us rather than the things that surround us.

Then that’s when I fully understand that my blog is indeed about me. Its ELIZABETHMANANSALA.BLOGSPOT.COM of course it’s about ME! Oh well, enough of the drama. I came up to this list of things that you maybe want to know about me. I hope this will interest you. n_n

1. I’m a coffee addict.

Coffee, the creamy aromatic liquid that serves as my water. I have it eight cups a day. I start guzzling the minute I wake up and continue sipping till late at night. My brain, no, my whole system is not able to function properly whenever I’m deprived of the stuff. Coffee is my comfort food/drink, it really does comfort me. Without it, that’s when I get the shakes; that’s the time I get anxious.

2. I’m religious when it comes to food.

                          

It’s not actually only me who’s religious when it comes to food. My friends and I are religious when it comes to food. (We are religious. Sounds nice. ;)) We are constantly eating Teriyaki and Ham Bacon and Pasta and Teriyaki and Ham Bacon and Pasta and Teriyaki and Ham Bacon and Pasta alternately—at least it’s “alternately”—for almost two years now, and I doubt if we’ll soon get tired of it.

3. I’m very honest to my commendations.

When I say you’re gorgeous, it only means that you really are gorgeous. I’m not the type na kapag sinabihan mo ng “Uy Lizzy, ang ganda mo,” sasagot ng “Hindi naman, mas maganda ka.” No, that’s no Lizzy. I don’t go flattering/fooling people around. When I say it, I mean it.

4.  I don’t wear shirts that fit me right.

My clothes are fitted, oversized, or bitin. Bitin. That kills me. I have this friend of mine who always says that I like to wear “hanging” shirts. The funny thing is, there’s no such thing as a “hanging” shirt. I wear fine shirts, but once I put it on, they always look like hanging and that’s why they look bitin. You know, if you’re thin and you got huge knockers and all, you know?

5. I’m not maarte.

I repeat it. I am NOT maarte. Some people are just BAROK that’s why they think I’m maarte. That’s how barok of de caliber they are. (-_^)

6. I’m a bitch.

I used to be a very, very good girl when I was younger—BELIEVE IT OR BELIEVE IT. (O_O) I was the type who’ll just silently whine on the side when you tease. But throughout the years of my existence, I learned that being goody-two-shoes is not always good. Well, if you’re nice to me, I’ll be nice to you, too. ‘Yung tipong “If you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours.” But, if you slap my face… I’LL SLAP YOUR EFFING FACE, TOO. (O_O)

7. I have a mathematical disability.

I loathe numbers with a passion. Would you believe that until now I still don’t memorize the multiplication table? Tell you what. I utterly, honestly, soulfully can’t see the importance of numbers in the society. Sure, we need numerical computation for buying and selling stuff, but what about those algebraic equations nonsense and sine cosine blah bah? We don’t need those, and besides it is the 21st century, we already have this marvelous invention called calculator to do the filthy math, ANO VERR?! (See? I really am disabled.)

The very good thing that happened when I had my majorship was being free from the shadows of Mathematics that had enslaved me for years. That’s the awesomest thing about being an English major—numbers free. ;)

8. I’m a biblioholic.

          

I’m quite an unscholarly thinker but I read a lot. I’m a “little” obsessed when it comes to reading whenever I encounter a very good line, I have to stop reading, chew the words for a while, and  then after two minutes, I’ll highlight the part and then I’ll type the line in my phone so I can conveniently browse into it whenever I want. I seriously have to go into a sudden halt whenever I encounter an incredible line because I seriously get so affected by it, it feels like my lungs have failed and my brain has been cooked up and my circulation is evaporating like crazy I have to calm myself. And I know that a book is a good read if I feel gloomy after I finished reading it. I feel kind of blue every time I’m through reading an incredible book because I actually don’t want it to end. So I will do a second or third reading of it, and then after that I will browse the highlighted parts of the book and long after the book is not in my hands I will still keep on thinking about it; reminiscing every scene in my head.

I’m also very possessive when it comes to books. I don’t like borrowing books because I want the books that I read to be entirely mine. I want my name and thoughts to be there (Yeah, I talk to my books. That’s one of the reasons I don’t let people borrow my books because I don’t like them to see all the insane stuff that I put on it.) I also don’t want people to borrow my books because I don’t want them to be damaged. I believe, no, I know that no matter how careful a person is when it comes to books, the latter will still damage it in a way so I don’t let people borrow my books because I can be a very, very, madchick. I go ballistic.

Lastly, I want all the books that I read to be in my sight, beautifying the ambience of the room.

9. I’m lazy.

I’m the sort who least participate in group activities and crams to death from late at night till early in the morning, doing her half done paper that must be passed on the same freaking day. I know that being too much relaxed will do me no good and I’m mutilating myself in the process, that’s why I am trying my best to change believe me.

But on the bright side, I’m also a diligent student in my own little way (naks!) Like I said, I read and write a lot. I read and write a lot because my motivation in doing it comes from within. I would still continue reading and writing whether my course requires me to do it or not.

I also prepare myself every time there’s a coming examination. Believe me, I study. I like preparing for examinations because that’s the only time that I fully understand the lessons, and I kid you not if I tell na sa exams lang ako humuhugot ng grades.

10. I talk to myself.

I’m unveiling my mask. I admit it. I’m a skinny weird-o bordering nuts. Well, it’s not that I always talk to myself every millisecond in public or anything close to that, but I do it every day anyway when I’m alone (I repeat it. When I’m alone, okay? So I need no medical attention.)  Because obviously, when I’m with my friends I talk to my friends, but when I’m at home with no one I like to talk to, I just imagine myself talking to somebody I like, like a friend of mine or someone. It’s weird because I’m no big-mouth of a woman but I always feel this inclination to talk when I have no one to talk to. The creepy part is, I find the conversation more fun when I’m talking to nobody. Like right now, I am talking to you, sure I do, but the truth of the matter is, I am talking to no one in particular. I’m crazy, now you know.

Photographer: Joyce Manigbas

Kakalasan

Mabigat ang aking hakbang palabas ng aming eskwelahan. Bagsak ang aking mukha at katawan at wala na ring kislap ang dati-rati’y maningning kong mga mata. Maaari sana akong mag-dyip na lang pauwi gaya ng akin ng nakaugalian, pero pinili ko pa ring mag-LRT dahil nagbabakasakali ako na makita ko siya. Gusto ko siyang makasabay pauwi dahil gusto kong magpaliwanag at humingi ng tawad sa kasamaan ng aking ugali. Alam ko naman na walang lugar para sa’king pagtatanim ng sama ng loob. Ngunit alam ko rin na ang kawalan ko mismo ng lugar ang ikinasasama ko ng loob.

Halos mag-iisang oras din akong naghintay sa istasyon ng tren pero di ko siya nakita. Nawalan na ako ng pag-asa na makita pa siya kaya napagdesisyunan ko na pumasok na sa loob ng tren. Kasabay ng pag-usad ng LRT ang pagbugso ng mga ala-ala sa aking isipan. Naalala ko ang mga panahon na malaya ko siyang nakakasama. Walang komplikasyon, walang hassle, at higit sa lahat—walang magagalit. Ang mga panahon na hindi pa kami biktima ng kasalukuyang sitwasyon. Ang mga panahon at pagkakataon na sinayang ko. Ang mga matatamis na alaala na minsa’y nagpasaya sa akin at ngayon ay dapat ko ng kalimutan.

Umuwi ako sa aming bahay na hapong-hapo. Dumiretso ako sa’king kwarto at humiga sa kama. Nagpahinga muna ako ng ilang minuto bago ako nagbihis ng damit pambahay. Masyado akong pagod kaya wala na akong ganang kumain ng hapunan. Wala ng buhay na nakahilata ang aking katawan ngunit buhay na buhay at patuloy pa rin sa pagtakbo ang aking isipan. Marami kasi akong tanong na hanggang ngayo’y di ko mahanapan ng sagot.

“Pangit ba ‘ko?”

‘Yan ang tanong ko. Mula sa pagkakahiga ay tumayo ako upang pagmasdan ang aking sarili sa malaking salamin sa may aparador. Doon, napagmasdan ko ang aking imahe. Ang bilugan kong mata, ang matambok kong pisngi, ang manipis at unat kong buhok, ang morena kong kutis, at ang payat kong katawan. Kung tutuusin ay hindi naman ako pangit. Sa katunayan ay kuntento na ako sa aking nakikita sa harap ng salamin. May ilan rin namang kalalakihan ang nagkakagusto sa’kin, ang problema nga lang ay wala kong gusto sa kanila. Isa lang kasi ang gusto ko—siya lang. Tapos ‘yung nag-iisang “siya” may karelasyon pang iba. Ang tamang tanong siguro ay “Ano ba’ng ayaw niya sa’kin?” o “Bakit hindi ako?” Pero hindi rin, ang totoo’y alam ko na ang sagot sa mga tanong na iyan. E ‘yung “Kailan ba sila maghihiwalay?” Ayan di ko pa alam, pero ayaw ko na rin ‘yang alamin. Sabi niya hindi raw madaling manakit ng damdamin ng iba kaya di raw ganoon kadaling makipaghiwalay. Hindi ba niya alam na sa ginagawa niyang pag-iingat sa damdamin ng iba ay paulit-ulit na niyang sinasaktan ang damdamin ko?—Iyan ang tunay na tanong.

Pagkaraa’y pumasok ako ng banyo upang maghilamos at magsipilyo. Damang-dama ko ang lamig ng tubig sa aking mukha. Ang sarap sa pakiramdam na mawala ang pawis at alikabok at kung ano pang dumi na nakuha ko sa buong mag-hapon. Pagkatapos ay muli akong humiga sa kama at nagtalukbong.


“Kailangan ko ng magpahinga, may pasok pa ‘ko bukas,” bulong ko sa’king sarili.


Ipinikit ko ng marahan ang aking mabigat na ring mga mata at niyakap ang unan sa aking tabi. Dapat na ‘kong magpahinga upang magkaroon ako ng lakas na harapin ang araw ng bukas. Bukas magre-report ako sa klase, bukas may hang-out kami ng mga kaibigan ko, bukas may lecture forum ang department. Hindi pa katapusan ng mundo—may bukas pa. Bukas, ‘pag nagkasalubong kami sa daan ay babatiin ko siya at ngingitian, pero hindi ko na siya hahanapin o babanggitin pa.

Batid ko na hindi pa hilom ang lahat ng aking mga sugat, subalit masaya ako sa kaisipan na wakas—natutunan ko na rin itong gamutin. Lilipas ang mga araw, buwan o taon. Lilipas ang panahon. Matagal ang proseso ng paggaling, ngunit masaya ako na nagsisimula na ito ngayon.