Sometimes, places and things become more beautiful only when someone is there with you, holding your hand.

Sunsets become more than just a time of day, they become moments, etched in our hearts, constantly craved by eyes.

And you feel more of your warmth, when your flesh is pressed against a different softness, an unfamiliar vein.

Books don't exaggerate when they say kisses are as explosive as fireworks.

When love is involved, it's more than just chemical explosives.

They become eruptions.

Raw as an animal.

Burns you like fire.   

 

If life was this red

Would I ever recognize blue?

Or pink?

Or periwinkle?

Would orange taste the same?

Assuming of course,

That orange is still orange,

And not red.

Will red and blue,

Be purple as an eggplant,

Or would it still be red,

Like strawberries,

or Santa Clause,

or broken hearts.

Or are broken hearts black?

Or white.

Or transparent.

Like tears.

Like mine.

Alright. It's official.

The world is full of perverts.

What do you do if you see a person with allergies on her neck?

Well, you shut-up about it of course, or ask them what happened if you two are real close, or feel a strong feeling of repulsion AND KEEP AWAY!

You DO NOT, I repeat, DO NOT hit on them!

***

I've been to a Dunhill party the other night and the place is just full of human smoke belchers. The whole floor was so smoky i thought they hired a fog machine just for the event. But Noooo, the smoke actually came from death sticks -- the same stuff i've tried so hard to keep away from for months now. But then the host had this happy suggestion that i visit the smoke bar and have myself a newly-rolled piece of cig. It's the same as drink bars, although this one, instead of the usual, "scotch or martini" they say, "Cuban or lights?" Everyone was looking at me, since the man of the house kept on insisting i tell the smoketender what i want. So meekly, I said "Ummm... lights" and this Malaysian guy started rolling one for me, weighing the tobacco, asking me if i want a full-smoky experience and i just smile (fakely, i think) and insisted on lights. And as a treat, he sprayed my stick with a dash of vanilla essence, for that feminine touch. When he gave me the cigarette, i was really planning on putting it inside my bag, saying i've stopped smoking, but you can actually see all these people looking at me, waiting to flash the sign "Party Pooper" stamped on their foreheads, PLUS, the host actually called on the camera crew so they could video moi enjoy my smoky date!

So what can i do then? The lighter was already lit in front of me, and i think the Malaysian smoketender had this "please don't embarrass me by throwing away my masterpiece" kind of look, so after months of cigarette abstinence, i let the tip of my cig kiss the fire, and inhaled. Deeply. Like a long-lost lover returning, i just grimaced at the cigarette coughed, and told the host "ewww, sorry, i don't really smoke." Believe it or not, the crowd who gathered laughed, and THEN they all clapped, with some of them telling me, "Good for you!" The Malaysian guy smiled at me, then said, "If you do decide to smoke, i'll roll-up a special one for you, blueberry flavored." I left the bar, embarassed, threw away m,y still-lit death stick, and kept my health.

Thirty minutes into the party, i was enjoying the 40th floor view of the city alone, when this 30-ish man approached me and started a conversation. It was okay until he started asking (in a sort of breathy tone, or maybe he was just short of breath, i know i was with all that smoke!) about personal stuffs like whether i'm seeing someone or if i have a date in the party. Then he looked at my neck rash, which i was trying desperately to hide with my collar jacket and remarked, "Is that a hicky? I see you had a small necking party last night huh? Seemed like you had fun" (wink-wink)

What the f***?! I politely said no, it's a rash i got from a blouse i wore then abruptly left him unbelievably mad he actually said that!

The rash, by the way, came from a top I wore the other day in my bid to start wearing something more, errr, conservative. It was a pink Chinese-collared top which pretty much covered my neck and hid other parts that are most likely exposed when i wear my other clothes. And it has sleeves so I was really pretty much covered. N actually chose that top for me saying i'd look cute wearing it. "You'd look like a college student" he said. So not wanting to break his heart (yeah right) i had the top washed and wore it after two days. During one interview, one guy asked if I was an intern for the paper so I guess N was right. But Lo and behold, i think my skin really was meant to be exposed even for a bit. I went home feeling itchy around the collar area and when i changed into a nice, comfy tank, i saw ugly red rashes covering my neck. I subdued the angry spots by spraying Shu Uemura's Depsea Nanowater (beats the sulfuric smell of ointments) and tortured the night with me trying hard not to scratch.

This is what i get by trying to pretend to be someone that I'm not -- which is of course, a conservative college student.

When i told N about the smoky encounter, he thought for awhile and asked "He said that with you wearing conservative clothes? Hmmm.. well, imagine if you were wearing something more revealing."

Ha!

Like I'd wear a tube with these red splotches on.

I went inside a mall CR the other day and I encountered a sight, which just kept on bugging me for a couple of days. It was a lady brushing her teeth. Now I commend her personal hygiene and it seems she’s a responsible person for not neglecting her teeth. But my question is…

"Do you really have to let all those bubbles dribble down your mouth like that when brushing?"

Well maybe she loves the feeling of bubbles in her mouth but I just can’t stop thinking all those were building-up because of saliva, right? I’ve heard of the phrase ‘frothing in the mouth’ but this was ridiculous.

Spit, spit, spit honey. Even my 1-year-old niece knows how.

***

(continuation…)

One twist I encountered during the Manila Fashion Festival was aside from being a writer, I moonlighted as a popcorn girl, manning the booth while waiting for our popcorn lady or in this case, popcorn mistress (a gay friend who was having his hair blowdried just for the event).

It scared me to pieces when the seeds didn’t pop in the first ten minutes when the machine was heated, but once the popping started, there was just no stopping us. Of course, it took the time when I was supposed to change into my more hip clothes for the event since I had to wear work clothes in the morning for the booth set-up. So I had to settle for my olive green tank over faded jeans the whole time.

It was kinda daunting how people don’t seem to pay much attention to you just because you’re no one but a mere popcorn girl. They just go to the booth, get their free popcorn and then leave. There wasn’t much room for eye contact either and I don’t think they cared less when I said "enjoy your popcorn, courtesy of the bulletin". I think I heard only a few thank you’s, but I couldn’t care less really. I did that for about half an hour before the popcorn steam caused me to sweat and smell like a movie theatre. It was a bit annoying since I wasn’t really anticipating the smoky situation.

And then some friends and familiar faces started visiting the booth. And it was just simply amazing how these people, most of whom I’ve seen only in television, stopped by the popcorn stand to say hi and praise me for handling such a task that’s so different from my often laid-back job as a writer. And more than once, I got kisses from two very hunky models, Paolo Paraiso and Robby Mananquil, and actor Juddha Paolo. As baduy as it may sound, I don’t care, you don’t get to be kissed by three certified hunks in one night, with Paolo even commenting he loved my buttery smell.

The small chitchat from friends helped me endure the pretty stifling job, and I was actually a bit reluctant to leave when the popcorn mistress arrived to take my place.

Well.

Almost.

(last part, soon)

***

Overheard this one in a tacky videoke bar:

Girl: I dedicate this next song to myself

(people clapping)

Girl: I hope I like it

Whew. What a week.

It’s been a crazy week and a half, and life has showed different faces of life that she had me experience first hand. It was tiring to say the least, but it was an appreciated eye-opener nevertheless. Not to mention unglamorous, a fit of giggles, and umm… smoky (more of that later).

So here’s a ‘real world’ account of the three roles I’ve taken for the past few days…

Pahinante (delivery crew)

As media partner of the 2^nd Manila Fashion Festival, our section was assigned to set-up a booth to promote our paper. Since the other two top broadsheets were also be doing the same thing, we wanted to go all-out during the event. Since the theme for the show is ‘movies’ we decided to design our booth as a mini theatre with popcorn stand at that. We made a couple of phonecalls and tugged a few strings, and soon, we we’re already scheduled to pick-up 4 cinema seats, 2 porter boxes and 1 popcorn machine at Ayala Cinemas, in one condition – get everything during close-mall hours. Since I was the point person for the booth, I was assigned to go with the crew during pick-up.

Early morning (after only four hours of sleep), I went to the office for the truck. Of course, I wasn’t really planning on riding the truck (thinking I could get a ride and just follow them), so I opted to wear one of my minis to work, anticipating an event that night.

Well the morning just didn’t go that well, aside from the realization that trucks are not allowed to toll the streets between 6am to 9, we had to leave around 9:30, which meant we arrived at Ayala an hour since it opened, I also couldn’t get the ride I wanted (small car, airconditioned, great music system). So in all my mini-skirt get-up, I had to sit in front with the driver, along with another crew. The aircon wasn’t working so I hadto endure the almost noon sun, and the very bumpy ride. It was okay really, although, it wasn’t too glamorous trying to get down in front of the socialite crowd out to enjoy shopping at the posh mall. Plus, my skirt kept riding-up. When I got to Ayala’s office, they broke me the bad news that they can’t allow the seats to be taken since it was already mall hours. We COULD get them around 11pm. There wasn’t really anything I could do, so I went back my truck and told them the bad news. They we’re pretty cool about the wasted trip, although I think it was the lunch that I treated them which softened the blow even more. That night, I had to go with them again. Since I wasn’t able to go home and change, I once more rode the truck in minis (the difficulty getting-up didn’t change but at least, it was no longer scorching hot outside). When we got to the mall, the crew had to carry the four heavy seats without complain – it was afterall, just part of their job. And I just thought how foolish it was for me to complain just because my seat wasn’t soft enough or the aircon wasn’t cold enough.

So I started making small talks with the driver and the crew, learning that they’ve been working for my company for almost ten years already. They told me lots of funny stories like the time an arrogant driver cut in front of them, and when he looked back to smirk, he accidentally hit an electric post. I wasn’t complaining that much when we finally unloaded the stuffs at the NBC tent.

It didn’t matter anymore that I looked unglamorous getting-off the truck in front of all those models practicing for the fashion show. I was so grateful to the crew that I bought them a box of Gonuts Donuts each to take to their families.

When it was time to get back to the office, and I was about to board the mammoth vehicle, a model friend saw me and jokingly shouted, "Hey Techie! Nice ride!"

I just looked back at the truck, saw the crew’s friendly faces, turned to my friend and said with all honesty…

"Yeah. I know."

(to be continued)

I just realized. I love tequila.

Sure it might taste like battery fluid, but hell, it revs me up anytime.

And there's just something so poetic about drinking tequila...

Lick the salt to feed the fire. Drink Fire. Suck lime to drown the heat.

Sexy.

Unlike beer.

*flock* Blow bubbles. Chug down. Burp.

Sooo not sexy.

You’re breathtaking.

I can’t let another day pass without telling you that. My emotions have grown too strong for me to hold in any longer.

In every crowd, I look for your face.

My eyes are drawn to your clear, smooth skin like bees to honey. Nothing could be sweeter than your beauty.

But how could I have noticed only now? I’ve known you for so long, but I’ve never been brought to my knees this way before. I want to touch your face, your skin, just to know if you’re real…

Amazed by all that you are, I remain,

Yours

@@@

Leave it to big shot advertisers to play with a girl’s penchant for the romantic and the cheesy just to get them buying their newest skin products. Yup, this letter is part of an advertising campaigning to make girls feel that guys can be poet-spouting lunatics only if they’re porcelain-perfect beauties. How shallow can they see us, huh?

@@@

Hey Ex-groupie, you like Puss in Boots huh? How about, THIS version of cat in a hat? None other than your very own... god of spoken words.

 

I met-up with warp dresser Ronald Passion for dinner and his outfit and most prominently, his hair, just blew me.

He was wearing a simple combi of jeans and shirt, a brown belt bracelet, a black loop earring and he had his dreadlocks wrapped around his side-shaved head. The thing is, it's possible that some wouldn't really think his outfit, and most specially his hair, was proper for the glitzy corporate scene of Makati. But he carried himself with such confidence and dignified poise that he just fit right in with the seemingly conservative crowd.

Which led me to thinking how i am as a dresser. Do i have the same non-chalance he has when it comes to fashion? The thing is, i wear clothes that i just feel like wearing. It doesn't matter if i buy them in some big shot department store or a humble flea market. I mismatch, i accessorize, i alter my clothes, i wear slippers and consider them an office attire! Is it me? hell yeah, it is!

And the thing is, there are times when i do feel like wearing clothes which you would describe as revealing. A spag strap, a tube top, a short skirt... i'd wear anything which i consider wearable, and if i know i can get away with it, then there's just no stopping me.

BUt then again, sometimes it bothers me how some people say i wear those clothes because i like the attention. All i can say is that i think that's unfair. You have no freaking right to say that because you will never know the reason why i chose to dress like so. Do i like wearing it? Yes i do, and as bullshit or cheesy as it sounds, IT IS one of the ways i express myself -- THIS IS ME, and there's nothing you can do about it, so stop complaining about my gold slippers already! I don't just wear clothes for the attention (except maybe, when it concerns N) and if you can't accept that, well... then don't. Stop trying to be my fashion guru, assuming why i dress like this and mind your own business.

I spend half my time sleeping, a quarter grooming, a few hours of working. I only have little time left to enjoy myself, to do what i really want. I won't waste it worrying what you think about me.

It's been a while.
Three weeks? A month? Maybe more?
I don't know. I lost track.
But we're terrified to touch.
To breathe.
Sometimes even to kiss.
To truly kiss.
Not lip touching.
But a drinking of souls.
But most of all, he's more terrified of hurting me once more.
Of him getting hurt as well.
It's not his fault.
But he carried the blame.
The weakness.
The loss.
She left a void.
Might have created a new bond.
But still she left an emptiness.
Forever empty.
I'm searching now.
For an answer.
Why?
Because. Maybe.
You see, it's not just heat.
It's a connection.
Of bodies. Of hearts. Of the whole.
Of me and him.
And the world.
I miss passion.
I miss him.

How far will you go for vanity?

When i was at the mall this afternoon, i happened to pass by Body Shop which was having a 50% discount sale on most of their skin products and some of their make-ups. Although i was a bit in a hurry, I just thought, "a discount is a discount, why not go in?" So i browsed their store for a while and saw amzing skin products sold at cheap prices -- body butter, soya oil, body scrub, soaps, shower gels, etc. etc. They were also selling foundations and eye make-ups at pretty low tags. But despite N's constant comment of "sweetie, you're a shopaholic" i left the store without buying a thing.

Come to think of it, i've never gone gaga over skin stuffs, i mean, i don't even use lotion! The skin regimen that i ivolve myself in, is to constantly bathe using normal germicidal bath soap. I guess, the fact that I'm blessed with skin devoid of any acne, which probably came with my genes, keeps me from constantly thinking how to avoid any breakouts. Plus, i love eating fresh tomatoes, which some people say can keep your skin rosy. I'm not really sure if that's true, but it works for me, so...
As for make-up, well, i love liquid blush and lip gloss, plus baby powder for my face! I itch everytime i use foundations, no matter how hypo-allergenic they claim to be. The blush is a bit of a hassle though, so i don't usually wear it. I just let Mama Nature take it's course. In a hot day, i often get myself a natural blush that sometimes, old ladies ask me what brand of blush-on i'm using. Well, what can i say, the tomato works!

But the lack of attention i have for my skin, i make-up in hair. I'm such a fuss with my hair! I try to keep it healthy by using expensive conditioner and having treatments at the salon every two weeks. The last treatment i had was Chocolate head, which is a powerful oil that brings back life to dull and treated hair (geez, I sound like a shampoo commercial). Plus, it leaves your locks smelling like Tootsie roll for about a week! I also make sure that i maintain my hair color, which is dark brown with highlights of red and a bit of gold. And i make sure to blow dry it only every two days to keep from drying out. I also don't just go to any salons for my haircut, it's either Kaizen's Jude Hipolito or Lucy's Frankie Melendrez (both of whom cost me almost a week's salary for their services -- although Jude insists on giving me free service
. It's a press thingy). Also, my hair is pretty long and sometimes it's a bother trying to keep it under wraps. I'm not a high maintenance girl, but my hair sure is.

When it comes, to clothes, well, i'm not really after the brand, i'm more on the style. I love buying clothes in flea markets (particularly peasant skirts) and styling them to fit my personality, which my friend, Yang, describes in three categories -- gypsie, chic and preppy. Shoes, or feet for that matter, is another fetish. I love going for foot spas! And i love new shoes! The other day, i bought three pairs from a shop which just had a 70% sale on their items, which was just delish! Too bad though my skin is a bit too sensitive and i get blisters from new shoes. Oh well, the price of vanity.

So, do you think i'm vain?