HOW TO GET OVER A BREAK-UP

THIS IS FRIKKIN' HILARIOUS, I WAS LAUGHING LIKE A CRAZY PERSON WITH MY ED BANGER WESC's ON AND AM CURRENTLY CRAVING FOR A BOTTLE OF STOLI APPLE.

How To Get Over A Break-Up from Almie Rose on Vimeo.

HOW THE KAMA SUTRA WILL SAVE THE WORLD.

“I used to smoke two packs a day and I just hate being a nonsmoker... but I will never consider myself a nonsmoker because I always find smokers the most interesting people at the table.”

~ Michelle Pfeiffer










......
......

Paolo and I attended this last week.


We were the only couple there. At least, the only couple paying any real attention to what Guru Aji Sebastian had to say about the Kama Sutra.

We thought it was something we could learn together... as a couple, ya know? (And no, not just the sexual positions... as if we haven't already "encountered" them in a previous life. *ahem*)

But seriously.

We felt like college students again.





He wasn't really taking down notes. Not like I was.

He thought he could photocopy my notes. (Hahahaha! NOT.)


 








I was reading the hand-out. And after all this time, the subject still makes me blush. =P







Basically, what "I" understood from the entire workshop is this:

(In my own words and a couple of beers later)

"The Kama Sutra, in a matter of speaking, is a tool to enhance/promote sexual union - with the purpose of childbirth - then to further hone/practice/develop for the purpose of enriching the family."

"It is a science that systematically and logically teaches the pleasure principle --- the goal being to perfect the sexual union between man and woman to achieve harmony which will emanate outwardly."

*cue crickets*

Uhm... yeah.

Maybe I could've said that more eloquently.

But on the real, the Kama Sutra is some kind of a hardcore philosophical TRUTH we all should be practicing. And it's not just the SEX. It's everything. It's love and the discipline that comes with expressing that love. It's achieving "salvation through sex." And in order to do that, you have to have a "full awareness" --- not just of yourself, but of your partner and your surroundings and the ACT of love and loving. Like meditation, one should be fully aware of the sexual union... what it actually means, what it can achieve... not just how it feels.

***Can I get an amen up in this?

......
......

On a less philosophical note...

My sister Mika and I have scrapped our previous vacation getaway options because...

a.) Mika couldn't fix her Spain visa on time
b.) Weather is bad in Brazil during August
c.) It's RAMA-frikkin'-DAN in Morocco (that means, no alkie, no club, no fun) so WHAT'S THE POINT.

(Shoot, I'm not out to spend crazy money just to take pics beside some old buildings I don't even know anything about... or care to know anything about. Homegirl wants some REAL culture. Something I could do to put my sociology degree to good use. Like in the club. Or... in the middle of a street party. =)

d.) Maldives would've been a great vacation spot... IF MIKA AND I WERE LOVERS. Hahaha!
e.) Anywhere in the Caribbean would've been too far... but maybe Pao and I can go after the wedding. Hahaha! I'ma pre-empt that sh*t.

So....

It looks like it's either Bali, Indonesia or Phuket, Thailand. (But not before I cause a ruckus on over at Dubai. And I say, "F*ck Ramadan." The only thing I'm fasting on is PORK. And maybe rice.

No offense on the occasion, though. I think we all need to cleanse one way or another.

But honestly, it doesn't matter where we go. Mika's an awesome companion to be with... mainly because she's helluh rich and doesn't mind spending on my stingy ass, hahaha! And of course, she's a loot bag of fun. A very worldly woman she's grown up to be. Even if she smokes those whack-ass electric ciggies now. =P


                                          Mika and me (aged 2 and 4, I think)

                                                  Mika and me (last year)


........
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Cooking chicken.

                                               Chef Psyche. What a ham.

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...............

If you haven't already, download and watch THE PROFESSIONAL with Jean Reno and helluh young Natalie Portman.

I gotta get back to proofreading now.

The Yellow Umbrella

The rain always used to make me cry.

True story.

The sadness is heightened and I find myself crying for one reason or another... or none at all.

***My high-school teacher once caught me crying in the rain. ---I think it was because a senior I liked didn't like me back because I was only a freshman (hahaha. yuck. =)--- She suggested I ate icecream whenever it rained... because she figured icecream made me happy.




                But now, every time it rains... I have something to be peacefully happy about.

......
......

It's been 9 months yesterday since Paolo and I became a couple. But 9 months and 23 days since we first kissed in the rain, under a yellow umbrella.

9 Months Ago...On wet red cobblestones their steps were echoed like silent moments in their hearts as heaven’s tears carefully trickled down their beaten path, washing away the grime from the cracks of which they came. Glowing saints adorned the night ceiling and pointed not to their destination but instead, illuminated their chance. And while the serenade in their eyes was mocked by cheap horns and catcalls, the sound of water on asphalt became their chorus. Without looking back or knowing where each step would bring them, they hid behind a curtain of dancing diamonds. This was the beginning of their journey. And it started without past or period. Just a moment. And an umbrella. (Taken from the exquisitely-executed pop-up card he made me. =)


***But seriously... he totally made-out with me that night. Hahahahaha! Like passion-fueled sweet fruit laced with honey-dipped surrender. Where thunder raced with lightning and won because I swear I heard a boom first before I saw the light.

A man-made big bang. =)



And a glimpse of future days...


























<--------------------------- Prelude to a kiss. (I love how this picture is a constant reminder that love... and chance... and the beginning of "a very long time"... doesn't need preparation or pre-meditation. =)

We. Just. Happened. You just have to "Dreamsome."

INCEPTION AND WHY EXES SUCK.

I've recently gotten into this sort of "inception" craze after watching the movie. (Don't worry, I won't spoil it and say that Leonardo dies in the end, hahahahaha!!! Ok, I'm kidding. Or... am I?)

But that's not the point.

Basically, I've been thinking of ways to "incept" people... even though I think the whole "giving em the idea and making em think the idea came from them" concept isn't anything new especially for someone who is pretty familiar with the tools of "muhneepoolayshun."

I mean... I AM a WOMAN.

And men make the BEST test subjects, don't they?

Such poor, hapless creatures. Hahahaha! (I'm kidding. Ok, I'm not. But I said it so it wouldn't seem like I immediately and completely believed that. =)

It does, however, make me want to go back to school to take my masters and doctorate in Sociology just to do an entire dissertation on it.

Or maybe I can just do a sociological study on why current girlfriends don't like ex-girlfriends with the thesis statement:

"Ex-girlfriends and their correlation to the deteriorating moral foreground of society"

*chuckles*

I know way too many girls who would have a field day with THAT thesis. (Might even become a best-seller. =)

Then again, perhaps ex-girlfriends think the same of their ex's NEW girlfriends, too, telling their friends how the new girl is either too fat or too skinny or wears too much mascara and *gasps* fake lashes, among other typically normal ramble spawned from the the very bitterness of their demised relationship. (Except me. I could care less about my exes new chicks. Sh*t. I pride myself in being "the one who got away" in their miserable, insignificant little lives. Hahahaha! I'm a dick. =)

Taken from:

http://www.myprivateramblings.com/the-exs-new-girlfriend/

I am shall we say perhaps being a bit unreasonable.  I will concede to that fact.  I can be an unreasonable person, and frankly, I think I’m entitled to that right.  As the ex, you have to hate your ex’s new girl/ boyfriend. Why? Cause they’re horribly imperfect. Hell, they’ll never be as smart or as cute as you are; your ex has just found him/ herself some mere shadow of you to help him/ her get over you.  I actually scare my ex’s new girlfriend (”Yeah, go figure,” she says with a grin.) And you know why? Cause I’m perfect—she’s intimidated by the glow of my perfection.  Bow down, you mere second choice.

What I’m loving right now is that my ex’s new girlfriend is a solid seven inches shorter than me.  That wee little leprechaun.  I consider this height issue to be a definite indication that she’s not making the marks in other areas.  I’ve nicknamed her “Shorty”.  She loves this as it constantly reminds her of her flaws and more importantly, it reminds her of her place (below me).  I’ve never been so grateful to Mom for some great genes.

Right now, the thing I’m having a huge problem with is anger management.  It’s particularly hard to control when I go over to my ex’s place and the new “thing” has left me some little reminder that she is occupying what used to be my space.

“Oh is this Cindy’s toothbrush?” I innocently called to my ex from the bathroom.  An affirmative answer found me flushing the head in the toilet.  A little swirly action.  While this may seem like a cruel act, it’s actually recommended by four out of five dentists to prevent tooth decay.  Something about the toilet chemicals cleaning your gums.  I read a study once.

Wow, it’s amazing how one perfectly normal person can get so scary.  I’ll probably look back at this in 6 months and laugh my ass off.  Of course, I may be laughing from the local jail and it may be Week 1 of a 50 year sentence. That said, I guess by Week 9, when Large Marge is trying to climb on top of me, the whole thing might not be so damn funny.

I don’t know, I really want to freak out my ex’s new girlfriend.  I think next time I’m around her, I’m going to swivel around in my chair and scream “The Power of Christ compels you! The Power of Christ compels you!”  Option B is to start obsessively stroking my ex’s arm and muttering “My Precious. No one takes My Precious.  Nasty little leprechaun trying to take MY PRECIOUS.”

I bet by now, you’re all thanking God that you’re not my ex’s new girlfriend (this might be particularly true if you’re a guy).  Hey, don’t get weak on me; she brought it on herself.  She met me before she got involved with my ex, and she made the mistake of interpreting me as a reasonable, relatively sane human being.  Oops, the innocent looks fooled her.  May she learn to make better judgment calls in the future.

I will, in the meantime, be lighting her shoes on fire.

Does cheap plastic burn?

Hold on, we’re about to find out…

* This is a joke.  I do not actually want to see my ex’s new girlfriend’s head detached from her body.  She is, after all, not that cute; she may be hideous without a head.  That said, please do not pull a Jodie Foster/ John Hinckley thing on me.  I do not consider homicide a means by which to impress me. (Consider this my legal disclaimer)

**  I have no money. I could give you no money for the whole head/ platter thing.  Similar to *, this is just a joke.

I thought this was hilarious. =)


.........

But this goes out to my kindred retrogressive souls:


How Much Do You Hate Your Partner's Ex?

http://blogcritics.org/culture/article/how-much-do-you-hate-your/

"Ex-girlfriend", "Ex-boyfriend". Probably some of the most despised words in the history of mankind.

Exes are routinely detested, purely on the basis that they shared *something* with your partner, once upon a time. Your partner will categorically despise your exes, too, on the same basis, yet you fail to understand why they have an issue with someone you stopped loving long, long ago (if you ever DID love them in the first place).

Allow me to embellish from a personal perspective.

I despise all of L's exes. Of course, when we first met, we were able to laugh about our past encounters without it cutting out the very crux of our souls. It didn't feel like a dagger was being stabbed into the pit of my stomach when he mentioned an ex. We even talked about how annoying it was that prospective partners hated exes, and how pathetic it truly was.

Because it IS pathetic. Why do we harbour such issues with people from our lover's past? Why can't we see them as people who effectively led them to us, taught them what they did and didn't want from a relationship, and gave us some life experience?

Would you really want your lifelong partner to be a total virgin? I personally think I'd see that as more of a threat than someone having a track record of utter whoredom. They would have no idea what they were missing, which is far more dangerous than a few memories of a failed relationship (or six).

To be fair, L's exes only ever matter to me when I have a severe case of PMT. Otherwise, I can see it from a mature, sensible perspective. I prefer to look forward than to dwell on the past. Having said that, I would wish them all dead were it not for the fact that, had he not dated them, he would no doubt be a different person than the man he is today.

It's standard procedure for girls to slate each others' boyfriend's exes. If you're out with one of your girlfriends, and she points out a girl that once dated her current beau, you take on her perspective and whittle that girl down to an absolute minger. Even if she's stunning, you both comment that, in fact, she has a rather large arse/smaller boobs/frizzier hair.

And if there's nothing physical about her to dis (i.e. she undeniably resembles a far more perfect version of Claudia Schiffer), you conclude that she clearly has an IQ of 14/the personality of a fried beetle/a vile character, with a track record of seventy-five past shags and hence has contracted every STD under the sun.

I care little for any of my exes. I barely even remember anything about them. None of them matter anymore. The only one I even have any respect for is J, because he's a good person, and that should cause no concern for the love of my life.

Quite simply because when I found out J had a new woman in his life, I physically jumped for joy, and I wish absolutely nothing but the best for them. I'd happily attend his wedding and see his first-born without even a pang of envy. And looking back at my history, there are no "what-ifs", no regrets whatsoever.

And yet, I bet his girlfriend categorically despises me. I bet my name can't be mentioned in her presence. And I don't blame her. I don't matter: I'm part of his history as he's part of mine, but I could never pose a threat to her in any sense.

But we can never see these things objectively.

It's a shame.

.......


Ok. For purposes of this blog... I will whip out something I did when I was in college... to an ex-girlfriend of my then-boyfriend.


I made a fucking collage of her ugly face.

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!


ok.

It was an immature thing to do.

Hell, it was just downright MEAN... and I have no idea why I despised her so much (well, maybe because my ex cheated on me with her and I only found much later) or why I dedicated so much time hating her when she was never actually mean to me. If anything, she should have been the one mad at me for "stealing" her boyfriend from her but whatever... I feel kinda sorta terrible about it now...

But man, the stupid shit girls do sometimes. *winks*

.......

Now about that whole "incepting" people's minds thing..

HOW IT PAYS TO BE SECOND.

Today I celebrate the joys of having an older sister like my Ate Paula... who has protected and cared for me and whose strength, intelligence, and subdued elegance I've always aspired to emulate. I could not have been a good "ate" myself... or a good mother, in fact... were it not for her... were she not born FIRST. In all of my life, I have never been happier to be SECOND. (AND I AM SERIOUSLY FIGHTING BACK MAJOR TEARS AND EMOTIONAL VAPORS WHILST TYPING THIS.)

***She was the first person in the world to think I was pretty. =)

.......

When I look at my elder sister now

I think how she had to go first, down through the

birth canal, to force her way

head-first through the tiny channel,

the pressure of Mother's muscles on her brain,

the tight walls scraping her skin.

Her face is still narrow from it, the long

hollow cheeks of a Crusader on a tomb,

and her inky eyes have the look of someone who has

been in prison a long time and

knows they can send her back. I look at her

body and think how her breasts were the first to

rise, slowly, like swans on a pond.

 

By the time mine came along, they were just

two more birds on the flock, and when the hair

rose on the white mound of her flesh, like

threads of water out of the ground, it was the

first time, but when mine came

they knew about it. I used to think

only in terms of her harshness, sitting and

pissing on me in bed, but now I

see I had her before me always

like a shield. I look at her wrinkles, her clenched

jaws, her frown-lines--I see they are

the dents on my shield, the blows that did not reach me.

She protected me, not as a mother

protects a child, with love, but as

a hostage protects the one who makes her

escape as I made my escape, with my sister's

body held in front of me.

---Sharon Olds

Happy Birthday, Ate Paula ----- who makes being married look so good. =P

IF I WAS A RICH GIRL...

Paradoxically enough...

I want to be rich... so that I may live in seclusion.

Or at least... semi-seclusion.

Where the technology is circa early 90s with the exception of the DVD player.

No mobile phones, internet, and twitters.. and people's history and dirty laundry just a mere URL away.

(Once upon a time, people's stories and pasts were kept in frikkin' papyrus or in scrolls hidden away by tons upon tons of rock.)

Imagine that.

Now... they're f*cking everywhere and either people are too lazy to delete em or some site wants all the rights to em.

*big sigh*

I just want a house by the beach (and I never used to want to live by the beach but city-living, I have come to accept, unfortunately forces you to live by modern means and standards)... and the only problem that grazes my pretty little head is what exciting recipe to cook for dinner and what's on HBO.

I would ask for my family's blessing and I would tell them that I love them and to visit me occasionally, or I would visit them occasionally and that I hope they live happily and peacefully and meet people worth meeting and make memories worth remembering.

I would want that if I were rich. I think the only real reason rich people have problems is because they want to be seen with their money and they feel like they have to continue working to make more money. Now if they just took their money, lived simply but comfortably and went away...

Think of all the buddha-like good that would do.

Ergo.

I want a semi pseudo-low maintenance life... at a rather high-maintenance cost.

Seclusion. Alienation.

This world is corrupt anyway... and it corrupts f*cking absolutely. (Like how I want something really weird for my birthday but I'm not gonna say what, only it's not very nice and I think this want is a by-product of the aforementioned corruptness of this world)

*sigh*


......


AND NO, I DON'T HAVE BBM.

And if you REALLY think about it... people with more access to each other's lives, don't really do much to enrich it. Long-distance relationships... ala The Postman... where two lovers held onto words written on letters, received months at a time... as opposed to 10second voice recordings and Skype and tweets and comments on status msgs. I. don't. know. I don't get it. How we can progress technologically and regress culturally.

The same way I don't get him having been remotely interested in something. like. THAT.

*shudders*

I feel terrible now.

.......

And the appropriate song for such an entry (my boyfriend, who surprisingly introduced it to me):

I don't have to leave anymore
What I have is right here
Spend my nights and days before
Searching the world for what's right here

Underneath and unexplored
Islands and cities I have looked
Here I saw
Something I couldn't over look

I am yours now
So now I don't ever have to leave
I've been found out
So now I'll never explore

See what I've done
That bridge is on fire
Going back to where I've been
I'm froze by desire
No need to leave

Where would I be
IF this were to go under
It's a risk I'd take
I'm froze by desire
As if a choice I'd make

I am yours now
So now I don't ever have to leave
I've been found out
So now I'll never explore

BRAZIL or MOROCCO

Since my sister decided to take a leave... and I decided to finally treat myself to a getaway for my 27th birthday --- we decided to create a semi-online poll to know where the best destination was for us to cause a ruckus. (Alas, our Spain trip and my flamenco-dancing dreams and my Ibiza-partying plans will have to wait as my sister is a very busy girl and getting a schengen visa is not feasible for her at this time --- but sheesh right? they colonized us for 333years, you'd think they'd be more lenient with Filipinos getting into the "motherland")

*shrugs*

So with what our modest Philippine passport will allow... the choice is between:

BRAZIL.

or...

MOROCCO.

(though I'm still rooting for Jamaica or Maldives and yeah, I don't care if it's a honeymoon destination, I need me a beach)

.....

I can't wait to hang out with Mika. It's high-time I maximize the perks of having a flight attendant sister... and immerse myself in a different land and culture.


......

And... I just wanna give a shout-out to my sister, Roni and my friends Chad, Danee, and Ben. Your loyalty is frikkin' amazing. Thank you for being my sanity... and for patronizing my occasional psychosis. =)

90s Contemporary Christian Music is the SH*T

I am nursing yet another hang-over.

And it really is the darndest thing when I drink... (Gilbeys Premium, particularly)...

I don't remember much of anything the day after. Like... I have serious amnesia-like symptoms... and it's funny to think about how I don't remember a frikkin' thing even though I know I was saying something profound and inspiring and lovey-dovey in my drunken state ---- all the while I'm talking and dancing and talking some more, I'm actually on auto-pilot and my brain has lost all capacity to form new memories... or at least, retain them.

*sips pink gatorade*

But I don't get how one can claim to be all for "independent" music and still act like a rockstar?

I don't get that.

*shrugs*

I dunno. I guess it may seem unfortunate that I'm not all artsy-fartsy and hipster-like and "underground" and all the other words that supposedly define the concept of "being cool without being mainstream" or some idealogical shit like that. I honestly don't get it and I'm not gonna pretend that I do because personally, I could give a shit about it... Hell, I think Lil Wayne's "Every Girl" is worth a listen and I like that whole part about "fillet mignon-ing pussy" and that line where he says, "Well anyway, I think you're bionic. And I don't think you're beautiful, I think you're beyond it." ---- and well, it really doesn't matter then if you're mainstream or not or in however which way you want to move a particular movement, if you wanna sell-out to be popular (I heard that this morning on the radio --- if you would sell-out to be popular) and personally I'd do it, so long as it doesn't conflict with my core values and hell, we all wanna get paid and maybe that's where the difference is right? to be indie is to starve... to do it for the "love" ---- but I think any which way you look at it... It really boils down to the sincerity of treatment you give to others. And if you are a sincere "asshole" then... I guess we all have to make our bed and sleep in it.

And I don't know what the Hell I'm talking about.

....

But anyway...

On a lovelier note...

My awesome fiance diligently woke me up this morning so I wouldn't be late for a 10am meeting --- otherwise, I would've slept in and remained UNDER the bedsheets (and not to be confused for the actual blanket --- I don't know how the bedsheets came off although I have a theory... and if my theory is correct then I guess I owe it to my fiance to say "you were amazing lastnight, waffle" =)

He even made me my favorite baon: spicy tuna, fluffy scrambled eggs, and brown rice with crushed black pepper sprinkled on everything.

*melts*

And I just want to let the world know that PAOLO TOLEDO IS FUCKING AMAZING. Like... it ain't even braggin'. It's... just... the TRUTH. Man. I'm so lucky. Psyche and I. We're so blessed. I fucking scored. Like World Cup incessant running-kicking-chasing-and-more-
running then you kick and you finally score a goal type SCORE. And you know what? I'm still kinda faded so I'm just gonna come right out and say it:

Thank you to all of the girls before me for being stupid enough to let him go. Or at least, for teaching him exactly what to contrast me against (I totally love that John Mayer line)... so that he could finally see just how AMAZING it could really be after all of the mediocrity y'all have shown him. Thank you for being the "temporal paradox" in our lives ---- you have inadvertently secured a truly lovely future for me and my daughter.



I am truly smiling.

And I am totally falling asleep right now.


But before that, a song. (I heard it this morning on the radio and man, this has got to be one of my favorite lovey-dovey giddy i'm so frikkin' elated and lucky to be in love type love songs. (And the video is absolutely kilig-worthy)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LGA3YkQGMIw&feature=related

Let me see you throw your hands up if you love your man. =)

Because I have 120 weeks before my wedding day.

And I think it's good to have a 2-year head-start for the planning, the saving, and all the wonderful, fairytale-like things girls go through in order to make their dream wedding a reality.


http://www.bridalbook.ph/articles/find-all-your-wedding-needs-here/


.......


Paolo insisted I registered onto this site (despite knowing my semi-unnatural aversion to websites other than my multiply... and friendster. =)

Of all people, right? Hahahaha!

But in truth, I find it seriously adorable.


Let's bring back the excitement in marriage and love and white picket fences and happily ever afters and ALL THAT GOOD STUFF. =)

Our wedding song.

Because there are just some things that are better than sex.

I ate an entire better than sex cake once with my friend.
We didn't really plan it. We just decided to buy one to eat.
We didn't say much either. We just took one bite after another.
Two Virgos (I was only a day older) eating our heartaches away with every forkful of chocolate.
We sat on the floor of my room --- the 6x8 foot box I once called home.
And we ate without a care, because the taste in our mouth wanted something other than alcohol.
And I guess...
I just miss having that.
A better than sex cake with a friend (a good-looking guy friend, in truth) who knew me. Who really really knew me.
And who knew well enough that eating cake and saying nothing was the best thing a friend could do for you.
When all the world's bitterness has left a big ol' lump in your throat...
To have your cake... and eat it, too.