olive juice

Bathroom series! @MauiFrancisco1 @sidneyland19 #Sasa - Posted...

Tue, 21 May 2013 18:32:21 +0800

Bathroom series! @MauiFrancisco1 @sidneyland19 #Sasa

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In other words: PUSH!

Mon, 20 May 2013 21:29:36 +0800

In other words: PUSH!

Photo

Sun, 19 May 2013 16:57:12 +0800

Courage.

Tue, 14 May 2013 12:00:13 +0800

Courage.

Let me tell you a story. I was never the girl that boys wrote love songs for never the girl that had...

Sun, 12 May 2013 18:29:32 +0800

Let me tell you a story. I was never the girl that boys wrote love songs for never the girl that had the world yoyoed around her fingers, never the girl that spent midnights on the beach with red plastic cups in her hands I was the girl that spent recess on the swings, my palms stretched around chains that locked me to the earth and swung me to the stars I was the girl that hid behind four corners of a novel because words have always been more patience than people I was the girl that held the superpower of invisibility behind the cloak of indifference.

On my yearbook, they would write: “You rock, don’t ever change.” But how do you listen when you stare at your reflection in mirrors and only see a paper crane falling apart at the seams? I told myself what no one else would tell me, I said, “Your body is made of ivory bridges beneath the pavement of skin, You are the causeway to every destination where you go and what you do is entirely up to you.” I said, “If you don’t like the route you’re taking, the car you’re driving, the world you’re in, you can change it. If you don’t like you, you can change it.

You want to be a writer, so let this life be your work of art. You are the poet and the poem, the conductor and the orchestra. Write your life like you would read it. Remember that every line within you can be crossed out, every noun not needed, every adjective all wrong. Throw yourself down unexpected roads, turn right when you want to go left. Remember that it’s okay to take more than one route, it’s okay to be more than one genre. You’re allowed to sit down on park benches reading Bukowski at midnight and stand up listening to Kayne. You’re allowed to always wear black when your favorite color is pink. You’re allowed to be a sonnet and also a country song.” I told the girl filled with self-hate, “It’s okay, this is only the first draft.””

— Kelsey Danielle, “First Draft”

I just need him in my blog.

Sat, 11 May 2013 22:41:15 +0800

I just need him in my blog.

un. Last Thursday, I went back to UP. It was breath of fresh air, literally and figuratively. In...

Sat, 11 May 2013 22:25:00 +0800

un.

Last Thursday, I went back to UP. It was breath of fresh air, literally and figuratively. In hindsight, I guess my visit can be compared to Harry going back to Hogwarts - though I’m not saying that where I’ve been these few months are like the Dursley’s - but I just miss the campus, I miss the people, I miss the atmosphere there.

Thursday noon, I found myself suddenly gifted with free time. And. I. Didn’t. Know. What. To. Do. On a regular free day, I would usually spend it at home. But I found myself in Quezon city on a sunny afternoon, and all I could think of was: I needed to get out of the heat. What happened afterward wasn’t an adventure, but I wouldn’t say it was wasted time. Quiet time, probably. And I learned a valuable lesson - two, actually. One, never leave home without a notebook. Two, be a less boring (as in idea-less) person.

deux.

I’ve been reading David Nicholl’s Starter for Ten and I’m loving every bit of it. The protagonist, Brian, reminds me of myself back when I was a college freshman: idealistic, neurotic and awkward. (And in many ways, I still am.) Coincidentally, Brian is 19 years old in the book and a freshman in college. I am 19, and I’m (almost) in my senior year.

I wanted to share a particular paragraph in the book that struck me:

You know what ‘independence’ is? ‘Independence’ is staring at the ceiling in the middle of the night with your fingernails digging into the palms of your hand. ‘Independence’ is realizing that the only person you’ve spoken to all day is the man in the off-licence. ‘Independence’ is a value meal in the basement of Burger King on a Saturday afternoon. When Alice talks about ‘independence’ she means something completely different. ‘Independence’ is the luxury of all those people who are too confident, and busy, and popular, and attractive to be just plain old ‘lonely’.

And make no mistake, lonely is absolutely the worst thing to be. Tell someone that you’ve got a drink problem, or an eating disorder, or your dad died when you were a kid even, and you can almost see their eyes light up with the sheer fascinating drama and pathos of it all, because you’ve got an issue, something for them to be involved in, to talk about and analyse and discuss and maybe even cure. But tell someone you’re lonely of course they’ll seem sympathetic, but look very carefully and you’ll see one hand snaking behind their back, groping for the door handle, ready to make a run for it, as if loneliness itself were contagious. Because being lonely is just so banal, so shaming, so plain and dull and ugly.

Honest, and just simply the perfect words. I want to be able write about things the same way, bravely.

trois.

(Still in search for the perfect words, I found bits of inspiration from a song, a vlog and a blog post.)

Another inspiring song from Ms. Sara Bareilles that I’ve been itching to put on repeat on my iPod, only the connector is broken so… moving on. Here’s a vlog that’s apparently gone viral. They’re perfect and honest words, just like Ms. Isa’s words on leaving.

"Write when you're tired"

Thu, 09 May 2013 12:00:15 +0800

Scattered thoughts, but I blame frustration rather than weariness.

I’ve developed an aversion to online posts, Facebook statuses and tweets proclaiming the tiredness or stressfulness of people and glorifying “busyness”. After reaching new levels of exhaustion last semester, I realized that a tired or stressed out person does not have time to tweet or post a Facebook status. He or she would rather use the time to rest.

While I may seem like a hypocrite as I write this, it has recently dawned on me that I haven’t been writing. At. All. My excuse has always been “Writer’s Block” (that seems to have transformed into laziness) and tiredness, blaming all the “work” I have to do. It’s as if I’ve abandoned my so-called “craft” and now, what I once thought of as a “talent” downgraded into a “hobby” and is now on the verge of becoming a “once in a blue moon” type of pursuit.

The irony of writing as a means of expression is that it cannot convey the person’s true frustration with their craft. The reader does not see the hours spent drafting a paragraph, how may replacements the writer makes for a single word, or the number of pauses just staring at the blinking insertion point. You cannot express how frustrated you are with your writing because it is hard for you to write smoothly in the first place.

It was in the fourth grade when I discovered my love for words, stories and writing. Like almost every 90’s kid (or girl, to be sexist about it), I kept a journal. I also had tons of notebooks where I wrote many stories, usually consisting of dialogues only. I finished notebook after notebook filled with scribbles, until in the sixth grade, I discovered the internet. It started out great. I realized that I can post some of my writings online, get feedback (thankfully, I never got flamed.) and interact with other wannabe-writers at my age. Come high school, I stopped writing fiction all together and focused on blogging. However, my love for blogging died a bit when I reached senior year. The last post I had on my high school blog was about the first day of fourth year high school.

College started and I began a new blog that I haphazardly updated from time to time. Most of my blog posts consisted of rants - both happy, sad and frustrated ones. I even tried to publish my book reviews online, but though I still frequently read books, I don’t always update my book review blog.

Writing was relegated to the backseat once I started becoming “busy”. What used to be part of my dream (to become a published writer) seems now more of a child’s fantasy (along with wanting to receive a Hogwarts letter). When asked why I didn’t want to pursue a course like Journalism or Creative Writing, I often say that writing is my passion, but not my profession. Now, however, it seems that I have no more time to indulge in this passion.

I used to write short stories, feature articles and book reviews. Now, all that I am writing are personal blog posts (how narcissistic of me) and academic papers.

Where is the craft? Where is the carefully constructed sentence? What happened to searching for the perfect word that encapsulates the idea that I want to express?

Buried in the recesses of my drawer, like my old notebooks.

Because after struggling to write this piece for more than a hour, I don’t think I even expressed half of what I wanted to convey properly and eloquently.

But maybe I will let it speak for itself. The amalgamation of scattered thoughts and feelings of frustration tied together by simple, mundane words make me cringe as I reread it. I am disappointed with my so-called “writing”. Neil Gaiman said the only way to liberate yourself from bad writing is to keep on writing until all that is left is good writing.

So rule number one is, write. Even when you’re tired.

"“I want to repeat one word for you: Leave. Roll the word around on your tongue for a bit. It is a..."

Wed, 08 May 2013 07:30:51 +0800

“

“I want to repeat one word for you: Leave.

Roll the word around on your tongue for a bit. It is a beautiful word, isn’t it? So strong and forceful, the way you have always wanted to be. And you will not be alone. You have never been alone. Don’t worry. Everything will still be here when you get back. It is you who will have changed.

”

- Donald Miller

Aaand Friday evening! @MauiFrancisco1 @jecatXD @sidneyland19...

Sun, 05 May 2013 20:34:00 +0800

Aaand Friday evening! @MauiFrancisco1 @jecatXD @sidneyland19 @brijSK TMTM!

With ze other interns for Jeca’s “send-off” :)
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Friday morning with @MauiFrancisco1 @jecatXD :) A press event...

Sun, 05 May 2013 20:23:00 +0800

Friday morning with @MauiFrancisco1 @jecatXD :)

A press event for our internship! And how… “premium” is Buddha Bar! I know I’ll get to visit this place only once… in a blue moon, maybe. This is probably one of the best experiences of ze internship. Not just because of the place (and the food!!) but because of our “contribution”. (It feels great to be of help.)

As a bonus, we also saw an alumna of the org! Hi, Ate KL! :D

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"Oscar Wilde said that if you know what you want to be, then you inevitably become it - that is your..."

Sat, 04 May 2013 18:30:38 +0800

“Oscar Wilde said that if you know what you want to be, then you inevitably become it - that is your punishment, but if you never know, then you can be anything. There is a truth to that. We are not nouns, we are verbs. I am not a thing - an actor, a writer - I am a person who does things - I write, I act - and I never know what I am going to do next. I think you can be imprisoned if you think of yourself as a noun.”

- Stephen Fry (via existenti-al)

1/2 of ze most hardworking team! @areeuhnuh @MauiFrancisco1...

Wed, 01 May 2013 21:23:00 +0800

1/2 of ze most hardworking team! @areeuhnuh @MauiFrancisco1 @janedasal @chelseadauz

Full force in preparation for our 20th! We decided to meet halfway (between Makati and Quezon City.) and ended up at Greenhills lols.
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While @mauifrancisco1 is watching GoT… - Posted using...

Tue, 30 Apr 2013 17:36:00 +0800

While @mauifrancisco1 is watching GoT…

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Sun, 28 Apr 2013 18:03:23 +0800

How You Know

Sun, 28 Apr 2013 18:02:23 +0800

thunderpopcola:

You want to travel with them. You want to see what they’re like going through airport security, on planes, in strange countries. You want to meet their families and charm them to pieces. You want to nestle into their childhood beds and look around in the dark at all their old posters. You want to see all the embarrassing photos of them with braces and socks pulled up mid-calf. You want to hear all the stories about their drunken nights under the bleachers and their best friend’s jokes. You want to read all their journals, see how they took notes in high school. Did they use pen or pencil? What color highlighter? You want to work with them, just to see them work. You want to go out with them. You want to make out with them in the bathroom. You always want to touch them; you want them to always want to touch you.

You find reasons to disentangle yourself from them; it’s only going to hurt later, you can tell already. You stay up way past your bedtime for them. You look at the clock and know their schedule. You neglect other people and other things, and beat yourself up about it. But it’s like they have a hold of your hands and your voice, and you don’t mind. It’s like you’re trapped in an hourglass; you know your lungs might fill with sand, but there’s something sensual and comforting about the grains sliding down glass walls and pooling around your ankles, your knees, your waist.

You like things about their appearance that the rest of the world may cringe at and call strange, less than perfect. Their broken, reshaped noses; their little teeth or the gaps in between them; the way they pull their hair; their narrow hips; their wide shoulders; the depth of their pores. You can laugh when funny things happen in bed. You usually want to be in bed with them.

You think they’re smarter, better, friendlier, fitter, happier, more productive than you are. You strive to be as much as they are, as good as they are. You try to cheat and figure out what it is they’re going to teach you, if they’re going to fall from grace, if you’re going to play a part for them that you never thought you’d play before. You try and pull patterns and threads of meaning from the conversation or the way they looked at you the first time you met; what they did, what they offered. An apple stolen from the bar. Notes from a guitar. Pitchers of free beer. Pieces of bark with writing on them.

You cherish snippets of them; paste them up in your memories like old faded scrapbooks clutched to chests for generations. Their skin glows black and white in your head. They star in the little short films of your life that sneak up on you when you’re not looking. Like the walk to the South End for dinner on a quiet corner. The feel of the sun beating down on you both at an outdoor concert. The way they ordered wine on your first date. The slow swing of a hammock near a lake. The back seat of their car.

You can see yourself with them in the future you can’t quite see. You build apartments outfitted with all the right kitchen supplies and the perfect bed with two nightstands, each piled with books and magazines. You wait for them patiently while they chase their dreams; they wait for you patiently as you chase yours. You sit in bed eating dinner late at night, drinking tea and wine and whiskey as you tell each other all about the chasing. You create adopted dogs and cats; you have awkward conversations about money; you put up with each other’s crap. You see what they look like standing at the end of a candle-lit aisle in your grassy front yard and wonder if you’ll make it to the other end to meet them or if they’ll just end up in the scrapbook clutched to your chest or flickering on the screen in your brain.

- Talia Ralph

Photo

Sun, 28 Apr 2013 17:11:50 +0800

Stressed but happy :) Photo by Jona. Taken last April 9, 2013...

Tue, 16 Apr 2013 23:11:00 +0800

Stressed but happy :)

Photo by Jona. Taken last April 9, 2013 during UP MCO’s sem-ender and send-off.

The last legit summer vacation I had was back in 2011, the Dream Vacation. But a week after that, summer classes in college started and I hadn’t had a two-month vacation in a… while.

Compared to the last few days of March when I was… cheerless, the past few days have been surprisingly okay. I won’t be having the usual summer vacation of beaches, roadtrips and barkada nights, but it’ll be internship, sem planning and research work for me.

It sounds boring, but it’s not. I guess I’ve always been a nerd and a bit of a workaholic but I feel this summer will turn out to be quite a fulfilling one. With all of the negative energy before, I’ve been putting off making a summer to-do list. But I got tired of being tired and once again, filled with enthusiasm and excitement, I’m ready to make this summer amazing.

Summer to-do list:

Bonding with my forever friends (More Fridates!)
Summer GAs (ish) with my PPG Z and the rest of my UP family in preparation for our 20th
Internship and research work (Acads, of course.)
Start a new blog - write, write, write
Finish reading summer book pile (and update ze book blog)
Watercolors <3
Impromptu trips with family and friends

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Photo

Mon, 15 Apr 2013 23:36:00 +0800

The movie… really sucked. But hooray for bromance! :3

Mon, 15 Apr 2013 18:22:14 +0800

The movie… really sucked. But hooray for bromance! :3