Reality Check.

Whenever there was nothing to do I always drifted off into my own dream world. It's amazing how my world could look so foreign after I see that reality is far from my make-believe life. How I wish my life was just as I'd ever wanted it to be, just like everybody else does. Everything has always been so ordinary, just like I am. I don't even know why this bothers me. Maybe because all the fairytales use characters that are amazingly good or exaggerated. I'm not sure. I used to think that I could make my next story about someone ordinary, but if she was, what would happen in the story? I would have bored myself by writing it. So I stay content by dreaming of myself being someone other than me.

I guess dreams are my roads to happiness.

I Left As A Kid I Returned As Me.

"Mom, I want to be an astronaut." I used to say that every time my mom asked me what I would be when I grew up. I never knew where the dream came from; I was just an impulsive little child that didn't know anything about what lay beyond the reach of my fingertips. I talked to my family in squeals of delight and bouts of laughter and they would talk back in smart and patient responses that they knew I wouldn't understand anyway. They had lived in their own worlds of broken dreams and recurring problems while I enjoyed in my little universe of happiness, and I said I want to be an astronaut so I could go and explore my universe.

The problem is, every little child with her petty dreams will someday grow up, having had her eyes opened to the painful truths of the world, but I am very thankful to the things that awakened me. I am far from grateful. I am ecstatic that I have been given the chance to see the world in the way it is made, and not how it used to look to me.

Three years ago a teacher of ours told us about some program that brought kids to Japan to exchange cultures and such. I was excited. Of course back then it was only an opportunity to travel the world, meet new people, and widen my horizons. At least, it seemed that way until I got accepted and I learned what the purpose of the whole thing was. After some time I learned to comprehend that the world isn't made out of my childish perceptions and that the things on TV weren't just tall stories that other kids like me made up to entertain themselves. Somehow, the world I lived in was just an enclosure of peace while the world everyone else breathed and stayed in was full of real wars and misunderstandings. In a way the APCC made me realize that my enclosure of peace wasn't mine alone. It was shared by many young children that were probably still too naive to believe reality... and adults that have grown into respectable people that have learned to hope that we can connect with each other, even though we are all different.

Going to the Marine Camp showed me that not all people looked like me and had the same dark brown skin and black hair. Some others spoke straight english while others couldn't even say things in a language that we could understand, but because of a friend that I had made there, everything seemed bright and shining again-she restored my faith in an Earth where everyone could live in that place where everything is just and right.

She was a Chinese girl that I never could understand because of her limited communicating skills and patience. I got along nicely with everyone else but her. For some reason, she was just as frustrated at me as I was at her, so we didn't get around to befriending each other till later in our stay at the marine camp. One night she broke my bracelet. That bracelet was given to me by my best friend that I had been missing terribly, and of course she couldn't say a proper sorry because first, she couldn't speak English and second, she didn't want to. I was devastated. I thought, maybe this is why the world is so against each other-because we can't even understand each other, but on the last day of our stay there, she hugged me at a party and we looked at each other, and even if I only understood it from her eyes, I knew that she was sorry.

And from then on I believed that the APCC had been pursuing a noble dream, and I now know that I want to join that cause. I wanted to truly be a part of the people that build bridges and connect every person with another.

So now I know why I wanted to be an astronaut. It was because I wanted to learn about the universe I was in, I wanted to know the truth. I am now thirteen and I know what the world holds in store for every new kid that ventures out to explore it. I know now that my unintelligible murmurs when I was a baby was understood by those around me, because in a way, we can all understand each other. It was just like how I understood my Chinese roommate even though we spoke in different tongues. They still live in the sad world that humanity has pressed down upon us, but I am sure that they know of that alternate world that is filled with love and happiness and that from time to time they visit there. I know because now I live in my own broken world of sorrows and doubts, but I will never forget the dream that the APCC and Bridge club had helped me instill in myself, and I shall always be moving forward to achieve it, and looking back to relive it. I wanted to be an astronaut so I could see the stars and the planets, now I want to be me so I could make peace and build connections with the APCC and the Bridge Club rooting for me and my fellow JAs as we continue our journey through life and its troubles, nailing down one plank of wood at a time.

Jealousy Is Overrated.

I'm really not in a good mood today. I rarely am anymore, even if no one notices, but I wanted someone to know, who cares if people can see this? It wouldn't even matter. All I know is that right now, I have to say something. I have to bring all my feelings out somehow, in the only way I know how-through writing.

It's true that I really don't like myself. I have some low self esteem issue, and sometimes it's just something I can't stop myself from believing. Especially when you have the perfect sister like I do. Yeah, all pretty and all perfect. Perfect body, perfect behavior, all posh and nice. We went to training tis afternoon, and one of the kids we were tasked to teach for a while was all 'Crush ko siya! (She's my crush!)' and she was like, 'Uy, narinig niyo yun? (Hey, you heard that?)'. See, she's perfect.

I don't even like entertaining these kinds of feelings because I hate it when I feel jealous. My dad used to tell me that it's bad to be jealous, but then I found out that it's really hard to stop myself when it comes around.

"If you compare yourself with others,

you may become vain and bitter;

for always there will be greater and lesser persons than yourself.

Enjoy your achievements as well as your plans. "

-Desiderata

My family used to live by this poem, and now it haunts me because I can't stop myself. It wasn't my sister's fault that I hate myself, though, that sort of brouhgt itself upon me throughout my thirteen years in this life, but it's pressing down on me much more aggressively now because of my realization about it. And it hurts.

Long Weekend Part 2

So today we woke up at half past six and went about the house to get ready to leave. We got to UP at around seven, seven thirty, and we ate at Rodic's. Today was really fun, and I can totally say that I have missed APCC.

Now I've invited them to my birthday and I'm hoping we could all go to Payatas as Bridge Club! :)

Long Weekend Part 1

Yesterday was an awesome day. Since the Philippines is already very near to it's elections on May 10, everyone is rushing for last minute campaigns and persuasion strategies. I admit that I am not yet old enough to vote, but no one is ever too young to hope for a new tomorrow, and I am fighting for a better Philippines this way-choosing the candidate which I believe will be the one to bring this country to the highs it is destined to reach. So, yes, I am for Gibo Teodoro, the Lakas-Kampi CMD standard bearer and although I am pushing this down on no one, I am praying that the Country will choose the right president for us all. We joined a motorcade to support Gibo Teodoro yesterday, and there was an afterparty, by the volunteers, with the volunteers, for Gibo (and the volunteers).

I spent most of my time taking pictures of the really nice posters that people have taped onto their cars:

"Galing at Talino sa paglipad Bayang Pilipinas"

"Hindi kami tinanong sa survey. Dapat Gibo."

"Ako'y nagiisip kaya Gibo iboboto ko. (side)"

"Hindi ako tinanong sa survey. (side)"

"I think therefore I am for Gibo Teodoro. (back)"

Then I was amazed at how so many people were using Gibo giveaways that the volunteers had made and paid for with their own money:

Me and my sister were playing with M 'n' M's in the car and CRUSHING the yellow and orange ones:

We met the Bro. Eddie Villanueva supporters on our way there:




There was an awesome Rivermaya concert:

Jayson Fernandez, Rivermaya's new vocalist. ;)

And there were those cool inflatable things....??!

Oh, no. The pictures are upside down.

And I still don't know what these things are called.

I really should find out.

Hmmm....

Vote Gibo. :)

My Rainbow World.

I don't think the people around me would be shocked if they find me staring into space, unconscious of everything else around me. For some reason even the most boring seminars feel like fairytales because everyone's fighting their own devils, and we're all just heroes in our own novels. Everything around me is like a moving picture book and painted in vivid colors by my own hand... it's a pity how no one else can't see it. When times turn hard and confusing, people wonder how I can still smile and make them feel the happiness that they deserve to recieve whenever life dips to its lowest troughs. Well, when the lightning starts burning the ground, I see flowers where it seared the grass and stars where it burned the sky. When friends fight I see a cartoon battle, and I fantasize about how they will make up again. When someone is hurt, I watch my pretend me approach him and glue his heart back together, the bits and pieces parts of the old sketch I remember wanting to draw.

And so at times like this, I imagine that where every tear drop falls, a rainbow comes out and brightens up my day.

And I think, maybe this broken world of mine still has a chance of being glued back together. If only I had someone to help me.

This Is My First Post Here And I'm Already Ranting.

It strikes me funny (and sad, really) whenever someone calls me pretty. I don't know, it' s like people suddenly forgot what in the world 'pretty' actually looks like. I mean, to me, there are three ways to be pretty:

1. The first one's really the ordinary pretty that everyone idolizes. It's stupid, really, how we act like they rule the world and we're way below them. This is one of the reasons why I hate it when we call people pretty. This is why I try to find the true beauty before I even start thinking about telling someone that he (in this case, handsome) or she is pretty. Everyone thinks it's such a compliment, but what about those that aren't? You still think it's so nice and flowery and gives you that warm fuzzy feeling inside? Well, I don't. I honestly believe that when you're pretty this way, kudos to you, but I still wish that everyone would open up their eyes. Just because they're gorgeous like that doesn't mean you're any lower than them. It's just that they are, and you deserve to be praised that way too, and if you aren't then maybe we should be friends and I'd tell you that you're beautiful everyday. The way you really are, and not the way they are.

2. Of course comes the 'pretty deep, deep, down inside'. So we all know the cliche quotes and all the cheezy lines about this one. They even have the reality shows and sitcoms to prove that golden hearts are better than being beautiful, but is that really it? I think, if we all talk in this context, everyone is pretty. Yes, everyone. Even those antagonists on TV (that I believe are derived from real people) are beautiful this way, and I'm not talking about that small bit of kindness in everyone that the fairytales talk about. What I'm saying is that if there are people with golden hearts in being good, there are most definitely people with golden hearts in being bad. If that's too hard to grasp, just think of it this way: you know how we Filipinos like to use fermented fish and salt (anchovies) with unripe mangoes? Well, those mangoes are unripe, so they taste good, and when they reipen, they taste good too! So that's it, right? It's a win-win situation for everyone, because now we're all golden and kind and perfect. Actually, that's not true either. Of course there are always people who fail at every category (you better believe it), and in this case are the people that feel nothing... or at least act like it. This isn't the same as when someone falls for another, and that person simply can't reciprocate, because at that moment there's always a gnawing sense of guilt that maybe it's your fault that you can't love and not his or her unattractiveness. I'm simply saying that there are people (some from that situation, but not always) that feel nothing at all, and when you open them up on the autopsy table, what's left is a gaping hole in the middle of their chests because there was nothing in there anyway.

3. The third is being vain. Of course, I am obviously guilty of this, but taking pictures of yourself and uploading them just to ruin them in Paint probably isn't the same as just smiling because you know you're from Category #1 and WAY better than everybody else in the whole world.

So, yeah, I'm vain, but I'm still not pretty because I'm not vain that way. While the rest of the world sits down on their vanity table and compliments themselves for being so damn gorgeous, I'm standing in front of the bathroom mirror and trying to fix my hair without looking at my face because I'm scared of ruining my eyes further. It's not so bad, really, I just can't look at a mirror or get myself to ask the photographer to show me my 1x1 picture (which, by the way, never seem to look like how I imagined them to be) before he prints it and I get distraught all over again. I'm not part of those people that make puffy faces and enlarge their eyes whenever a camera's around because they know that whatever happens they will still be queen of the world-I'm part of those that run away from the picture-taking-monster-with-a-big-flashing-light-for-eyes thing like it's some fire-breathing dragon dying to burn me into itsy bitsy pieces. Although I think this way doesn't mean that the people who do play with their faces while in front of the camera and can't seem to get away from reflective surfaces aren't ugly-they're just vain at the same time.

So by stating those things in a very boring manner and using deep shi**y words that make me seem like I know what I'm doing, I subconsciously made everyone believe that I'm ugly. I hope.