23 November 2008

I Am Depressed

It is becoming more frequent now. At this particular moment, I can only sense my loneliness, and the cunning shadow of depression folding its dark arms around me, giving me the comfort I can never find in anybody else. Although I do not want to admit it full heartedly, I believe that I am already struggling with bouts of depression - of which I believe I am fully responsible for. I have no right to point a finger at anybody else but myself for what I am currently experiencing, and yet it seems so much easier to lay down all the things that people have done to me to have caused me this tremendous grief and pain. Reason-wise, it is only I who translated these situations into sadness, and I know I can see situations in a rosier setting, but I stubbornly refuse to.

The line between my reason and emotions is slowly becoming alarmingly blurred, and I find myself struggling with emotional fits that I never had to deal with in the past. My reasons tend to be distorted by my feelings and it is really disturbing as I am beginning to lose the trust of my friends - most of all, I am losing my trust in myself. I cannot explain why I cry so often, why I feel like stabbing myself and wishing I'd just fade away into nothingness. I am supposed to be way past teenage emo-ness and exaggerations, and yet, here I am wishing I'd disappear so I can pinpoint the people who have really placed value and worth in who I am.

The world does not revolve around me. I am aware of that, but at the same time, I cannot understand why my emotions cannot understand that. It controls my thoughts at times that I end up shutting down from everything and everyone. My emotions are laden with pride and I struggle everyday to overcome that. My obsession with minute details is becoming overwhelming, and has somehow also taken over my life. I am bothered by trivial matters, things that shouldn't necessarily be heeded. The menial fact that someone didn't ask to be photographed with me, whilst she did with the rest of the group, ideally shouldn't bother me as much as it does. The fact that everybody's name is listed in her group of friends and my name was absent shouldn't be a reason to doubt our friendship - but right now, it does. The simple fact that someone had to do something else whilst I had quite a traumatic episode to talk about shouldn't mean it would erase her concern - but for a while, it felt dramatically that way. Heaven knows how much these details mean to me right now - and it's driving me crazy and making me such an obnoxious individual.

This afternoon, my eyes were swollen struggling with my pride and my lack of self-esteem. Ironic that these two would have to mix in my person. Sometimes I wish I can be like normal people who does not feel boxed into a set of ideals, but I feel lost without these ideals. As much as I'd like to be liberated, I find comfort in knowing my direction and it pains me to have to lose sight of where I want to be.

Artists are usually labeled as misunderstood mavericks, defending themselves and their art to many unbelievers and critics - trying to stand a name for themselves, trying to prove their vision. Artists struggle with bouts of depression because nobody can enter their realm of thought, and they have to overcome their loneliness by themselves. They are castrated from society because most of the time, their ideals and lifestyles are far too radical for the usual everyday lay man. I feel that castration, and it is tangible, and I feel it crushing my insides.

I wish I can bleed everything I feel, and feel everything I bleed. I know there are some who take efforts in comprehending me, giving me advice and the like, and I know they've often called me stubborn. One who doesn't listen. I credit them for pointing that out, but sometimes I just don't need advice, I just want someone who'd listen to me just rant, rant, rant and bitch out. I also want to be needed, because apparently, I don't feel as wanted as I hope I should be (then again, it is my pride). I want to be able to need someone, and depend on them constantly and consistently. If I can have an inflatable buddy, or an invisible friend who'd always be present whenever needed, that would be fantastic - unfortunately, for human friends that is not exactly feasible.

I guess this entry is a confession of my weakness, because being human I am entitled to my faults. This is a very selfish entry and I am sure whoever is reading this may find me irritating, confusing and hard headed. I respect that. This entry is not meant to explain, it is my tool to communicate my current state and feelings, which may not even be relevant after a few hours. I won't be reviewing this as it is a product of pure emotions. I just feel utterly depressed right now and I just want to share what I feel. I need to get over this soon.

22 November 2008


I found this quiz called Colorgenics, from one of my friends' blog.

You are supposed to pick a bunch of colors according to what's in tune with your preferences, by your selections, the site will come up with a personality description that best describes you. I think the results are pretty accurate with what I am currently dealing with.


You are always alert and keenly observant. You are not truly satisfied with your everyday status and you are seeking fresh avenues which can give you the opportunity to prove your worth. You feel that there are still many barriers that stand between you and recognition - but one by one you will overcome them. Your tenacity is your one good point - like an English Bulldog, once you take the bite, you will seldom let go.

You are looking for excitement and stimulation and you are ready to try anything - but be careful not to take too many risks.

Being emotionally inhibited you have no alternative at this time but to be a 'watcher' rather than a 'doer'. At this time you feel as if you are being forced to compromise and stand back. But this is not the true you. Deep down there is that warm 'open' you which is awaiting the moment to burst forth - maybe like the chrysalis which will soon become the butterfly.

You are holding back. You need to find friends in whom you can trust and once they have proved themselves beyond all possible doubt you will be prepared to give them your all. The existing situation is not of your liking - you have an unsatisfied need for mental stimulation with others whose standards are as high as your own. Trying to control your instincts the way you do restricts your ability to open up to others and the way you feel at this time is suggestive of 'total surrender'. This is not to your liking as you consider such thoughts as weaknesses that need to be overcome. You feel that only by control, controlling your innermost thoughts, are you able to maintain your air of superiority. You want to be admired for yourself alone and not for what you can do or for what you may have done. In essence 'you need to be needed' and at the same time 'you need to need'.

You feel that you need to move on. You feel that you are not appreciated or valued for what you are and that the time is 'now'. Failure to do so will not afford you the conditions to prove your worth.


I guess this spells out my relationship issues, my lack of self-esteem and overall pessimism with what I can become.

20 November 2008

Extremely Rattled

I feel rattled. And it's not the coffee.

Last night was one of the scariest nights of my life and even at this very moment I can still feel tears welling up my eyes and fear running through my bones. Yesterday, the workmate I usually ride the train home with had taken a leave, so I was on my own.

The train going towards my destination was on the other side of the street, therefore I had to climb and cross the bridge above the train depot. As I was passing, I noticed there was a man walking in front of me, and two girls walking towards us. Most notably, there was a dirty, lean man standing in the middle of the bridge. He appeared deranged and exhibited not an ounce of respectability. He climbed up the railing and hung his himself upside down on the ceiling pipes. He was definitely retarded and I guessed it's best not to pay him any attention as I passed by so he'd return the favor and ignore me as well. Apparently, the plan didn't work.

As I crossed in front of him, I heard him call. I am not sure who he was calling, but I felt I was in no position to be concerned about it - I continued walking. I can hear him getting off the pipe, he continued calling. I cannot decipher what he was saying, all I can understand was that he appeared to be calling someone. I have passed the two girls walking towards us, and discerned that they would have to deal with the retarded man, but I can hear the man still pacing towards my direction. I was utterly frightened with this thought and have doubled my pace, overtaking the man in front of me. If the mad man would be chasing us, he would have to go through the man before reaching me. I made a sharp angle towards the stairway - convincing myself that the security guards of the train station would be there, inspecting bags.

Going down the stairs, I can still hear the man calling and shouting. His voice seemed nearer, and my heart raced furiously up my throat. I told myself that running may agitate the man, but my pace wasn't doing me any good. Going down those stairs felt frustratingly like the longest minute of my life. It felt that the lunatic had ignored the man I overtook and was really going after me. I never bothered to look back to confirm my suspicions. I jumped off the last few steps, my legs were unsteady and shaky. I never felt more relieved to be in front of the security guard.

A man informed the security that the crazy man was on the floor and the security guard promptly shouted at the insane man, who continued calling and shouting. I never looked. I never saw the man I overtook. All I know was that the crazed man was on the same floor as I was. Something must have happened, must have clicked, must have stimulated him to follow us.. or to articulate more accurately what I feel, follow me.

Even after I've passed the security inspection, I can hear him make a big fuss over at the station. It felt like he was calling to me. I was so relieved to be on the other side. My hands were shaking uncontrollably as I inserted my ticket into the machine to get into the waiting area. My heartbeat was thumping really fast as I reached for my cellphone to call my best friend. I was so scared.

In the train, I began counting the many things that I was thankful for. I was thankful that I wore my sister's sandals rather than my painful heels, thus was able to move faster. I was thankful that I was wearing my scapular. I was thankful that there were people with me on that bridge (quite curiously, I had felt that something wrong might happen on that bridge just a week ago). I was thankful that I wasn't as frightened as to piss on my pants. I was thankful that I am now safe and alive.

I don't know what could have happened and I don't want to confirm my fears.

I spoke with a guy friend when I got home and I never realized how scared I was until I felt myself tearing up and crying. I don't know what triggered that man to start chasing and I don't want to find out by victimizing myself again. I hope that situation would reoccur.

P.S. Please don't tell me this is a Bitoy's funniest moment prank, 'cause if it is, I'd really punch the guy in the face.

19 November 2008

Why Do I Torment Myself?

If there is one word to describe this year's Starbucks planner - it's fugly.

Of course, that is based entirely on my opinions. Despite that little fact, why am I 8 Starbucks drinks away from getting one, when I can simply purchase a Belle de Jour diary for a lesser price?

Why do I torment myself trying to ingest a short Starbucks coffee drink when all the while I am aware that I am not a coffee drinker? Why do I risk being addicted to coffee? Why do I allow myself to be prone to stomach hyper acidity? Why am I allowing my wallet to throw away good hard earned cash? Why am I feeling nauseous but trying to finish off this crappy drink, which I've been holding since three hours ago? Why am I doing this for a fugly planner?

The answer, my friends, is blowing in the wind. I don't know!

My Trouble with Shoes

After braving the floods last week, I have officially departed with my shoes, who didn't make it through the ordeal - it suffered irreparable damage and can no longer be revived. It was a cheap buy, but nonetheless a vital piece in my shoe line-up since its meant for daily wear. Now, I wear sandals to work which I honestly want to throw away soon. They have served me well for the past year and have already absorbed the nauseating scent of my feet. (haha) Regardless of the many washings I've made it go through, it doesn't seem lose the smell and has already shown signs of over-wear.

This morning, as I was choosing which shoe I will be wearing to work, I've realized that I have quite a selection, but have been limiting myself to two sandals particularly. I have two rubber shoes, one of which is at the verge of being thrown into the trash can as well. This is due to the fact that whenever I wear it on a rainy day, the water seeps in from beneath and penetrates the shoes - so I'd be walking with soggy socks enclosed in the shoes. The thought is just menacing. The other is rather special (since I hand painted it) but could be worn only with a select number of clothes and styles. The rest of my shoes are hand me down heels.

Early in college, I used to dote on heels, wearing them on an almost daily basis. As I progressed into my fourth and fifth years, I've developed a love for flat and rubber shoes primarily due to its comfort and since I've began challenging myself to walk from school all the way home, which is a rather far walk. Now, the prospect of leaving home in heels only comes when I have a party to attend, or a business meeting to go to. As much as I'd try to wear heels, I'd usually end up regretting it and returning to wearing flats the next day.

Lately, with the surge of sales and bazaars and online shops popping out left and right, I'm tempted to invest in a good line up of shoes which can serve me well for the next year or so. That would mean - a good pair of shoes for daily wear, decent sandals also for daily wear, a not Made-in-China pair of rubber shoes or sneakers and if the budget allows, a nice pair of wedges.

09 November 2008

My Christmas Wishlist

When my mom found out I was making a Christmas wish list, she reprimanded me for not counting my blessings and was thick-faced enough to put down all the things I want. Christmas, as we've always pointed, is heavily commercialized and due to this, people have lost touch with its essential notes of charity and good will and have focused their attention to buying gifts and preparing noche buenas and other worldly pleasures.

As the Scriptures have said, and as I've heard time and again, "Ask and you shall receive." A wise man declared in a wedding that the only way a man can understand a woman is when she gives up dropping hints, and slaps the information right onto his face. I'm done writing letters to Santa, who doesn't seem to respond very well to my recommendations. Apparently, my friends aren't always keen on reading my latest blog posts to notice the list either.

Despite knowing that I am running the risk of being labeled a materialistic girl, I decided that I still want to list down my wish list for this year. I know it's not exactly discreet, but who wants to make a discreet wish list? haha Fingers crossed that at least one may be answered, here goes...

1. A good book
(as Jessica Hagendorn's Dogeaters and Gregory Macguire's The Ugly Stepsister)
2. An original CD
(as Lea Salonga's Cinderella, Sergio Mendez' Morning in Rio or Universal Music's The Very Best of Smooth Jazz)
3. A scrapbook/ digital art/ animation/ surprise dedicated to me
4. A La Senza brassiere
5. Scrapbooking or Arts and Crafts magazines
6. An iPod Classic, 80 Gb (though I can settle for 40 Gb, hehe)
7. A out-of-town, all-expense paid vacation trip
8. A Canon EOS DSLR Camera
9. To get a winning lottery ticket (given if I actually join the lottery)
10. Charley to ride a plane home and spend Christmas with me.
11. My grandma to get well soon and be rid of her horrid ailment.
12. Parokya ni Edgar, after three years, will still serenade me with their single, Gitara.

P.S. If David Cook would just dedicate his Always be My Baby song to me, I'd already be ecstatic. A Jose Marie Chan number can also do the trick!

P.P.S. Clothes, bags and shoes are always welcome items! I won't mind for a box of Lindtz orange chocolates, a box of G-tech pens, table/ room organizers, or a box filled with just paper of varying types, colors and sizes. hehe

Okay, enough daydreaming..

Man, it feels good getting those stuff out of my chest.

08 November 2008


After my encounter with Lawrence Hill's Book of Negroes, I felt so engrossed in the tribulations of the colored people that I was compelled to venture further and read The Amistad written by David Pesci. The book was already translated into a movie directed by Steven Spielberg starring big names as Anthony Hopkins and Morgan Freeman. I finished reading it, coincidentally, on the day of the US Presidential elections, with Barack Obama winning by a landslide. The first Black (half) president of the United States of America.

Ironically, the name of the schooner, Amistad, meant friendship and yet was utilized to transport the Blacks from one port to the next. And, unlike Aminata Diallo, the protagonist of The Book of Negroes, the blacks in the Amistad, headed by Singbe, later to be called Joseph Cinque, didn't respond kindly to the threats of the slave owners and thus planned and caused a mutiny, killing most of the crew and leaving the slave traders and their young assistant alive. Since the Blacks cannot maneuver the ship, the were eventually scooped out of sea by the Americans who debated whether or not they are to be treated as free men.

This story occurred years after Aminata Diallo has established herself as a fluent and remarkable citizen in London. The Freetown was already present in Africa, but was not sufficient to hinder the acts of slavery happening within the continent. Although there were plenty of countries that have pledged against this abhorred abduction of men, there were some, like Spain, who have not seen its inhumane gravity against their convenience.

With the election of Obama into presidency, it illustrates how these men of color have moved on from their shady, disrespected past into becoming one of the most powerful people in the world. I don't believe that people in the 1800's could possibly fathom such an occurrence as what has just transpired in the last few days. In the course of a century, women have finally found voice in society and the Blacks have gained their due equality with the Whites. Though there are still pockets of people protesting against it, I believe the situation has improved dramatically and hopefully continue to do so in the years to come.

04 November 2008

Three Generations Trailer

Rummaging through my CDs at home, I found my copy of this..

Back in college, for our Litera1 (Philippine Literature) final project, we were tasked to adopt a short story written by a local author and translate it into a trailer. Our group opted Nick Joaquin's Three Generations, which we renamed Sugatang Langit.

For most of Nick Joaquin's works, there is always the contrast between the liberals and the conservatives, a defiance of societal norms and a justification for such. In Three Generations, the story revolves around a grandfather, a father and a son. The grandfather is a lecherous man, very worldly and rough - a man of vice, if there should be any description to be made. His son, the father, disgusted by his father's acts had vowed never to do the same to his son, never to raise his hand to hit his son. But with the turn of events, apparently, things won't go as planned and blood shall reign over acts.

The trailer was directed by Cara Carriaga and Will Josue. For the lack of girls in our group, I had to take on two roles, that of the mother and the mistress, which was very funny since the characters were treating me in different sorts of ways that wouldn't be understood had this note not been highlighted. None of us have ever had any directing or acting experience during this shoot, which would explain the really bad acting. For the sake of the grade, we really did our best and this was the trailer we submitted.

Sigh.. Memories...

01 November 2008

Crimes for Christmas

November has just arrived on our doorsteps and already I've been hearing all sorts of rumors about children being nabbed, houses being robbed, civilian assaults and many such ungodly deeds. My mom has informed me that just a couple of streets away, a bunch of houses in a compound have already been robbed and she suspects that the security guard assigned in the area has something to do with the crimes.

Annually, once the -ber months turn the corner, people claim that crime rates escalate rapidly and policemen become double observant of traffic rules (and this isn't meant in a good way).

Just a couple of days ago, our maid told me to call the Barangay Tanods to make rounds along our area. Apparently, she has overheard a group of men talking about some pretty suspicious stuff at the corner of our street. The men, according to her, were huddled together and were talking about blocking front and back entrances, and when she passed, one of the men eyed where she was going - and the poor thing went straight to our gate.

A neighbor friend of theirs also confided that he noticed some guys sitting on the porch of our house, like they were waiting for someone. Now, I usually go home around 8 to 9 in the evening, and I would often be walking alone, so that piece of information alarmed me greatly. Our maid offered to fetch me where I get off so that I can be, at least, safer with the increase in number.

It is possible for me to point that she was paranoid, but the last time she informed me to call the Tanods because of suspicious characters lingering in our area, we had a big battlefield outside our doorsteps the very next day. Yes, there were big Armalite guns, firearms and policemen were screaming all sorts of commands. Our wall even secured two bullet holes. Thankfully, because of what she had done, our house was spared from being forcefully entered. There were three dead in the incident, and I saw our neighbor's maids wiping the blood stains off their gates and scrubbing the floors of their driveway.

Isn't it ironic that Christmas is meant to be a season to be jolly, a season of goodness and a season to remember and cherish the birth of Jesus Christ, and yet all these monstrosities would surface and dampen the joys and hope that the season is meant to bring? Isn't it ironic, and unchristianly, that men would steal money, kidnap children, threaten people and even corrupt another's peace of mind, just to bring gifts of joy and happiness to his family for this wonderful season of giving?

They have lost the essence of Christmas. Christmas is not about the gifts, although we all want to receive one, it is the celebration of our Christian faith, the celebration of family, and the celebration of hope, love and peace. It is the time to be thankful despite what one receives, because God has blessed us with another year, with our family and friends, with our lives.