The ho with her hoe.Thursday, September 29, 2011
THE HANGOVER CLUB PARTY
October 5, 2011 - 10ish @ Bond Urban Pub (formerly Tabu) in MakatiNow I'm not so sure what's in store for everyone but I'm assuming one of the things on the to-do list is to get hungover like a mother.
Who wanna get f*cked up? (I do! I do!)
The truly sexy and inviting invite courtesy of the ever-talented Dianna Capco, DJ of the Setlist on Sarisarisounds.com
Day 75 - A picture of you receiving a reward
The most rewarding reward I've ever been blessed to receive.
Tuesday, September 27, 2011
Monday, September 26, 2011
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Thursday, September 22, 2011
HAVE YOU EVER HAD YOUR HEART BROKEN?
Benjamin Arnold: Are you busy?
michelle_kay_callanta: what's up?
Benjamin Arnold: Random question out of nowhere...
Benjamin Arnold: Have you ever had your heart broken?
michelle_kay_callanta: uhm why?
Benjamin Arnold: I wanted to know how it feels
michelle_kay_callanta: why?
Benjamin Arnold: I was thinking kc, in the movies people always portray heart breaks the same: heart starts hurting, cant breath and then just seclude themselves from other people and the world...
Benjamin Arnold: I was wondering if it was the same for everyone
Benjamin Arnold: and if that would be the same for me (if or when) I get my heart broken
michelle_kay_callanta: yeah i guess. =P
michelle_kay_callanta: i forget. HAHAHAHAHA
michelle_kay_callanta: hasn't happened to me in a while, HAHAHAHAHA
michelle_kay_callanta: no seriously... ok let me remember the instances when it happened... from like an outsider's point of view...
michelle_kay_callanta: ok when this guy told me he didn't love me back, i remember just sitting alone on the floor of my living room apartment, completely numb from crying, just basically lethargic and sad and catatonic in a way... whilst listening to Perfect Circle's song 3 Libras.
michelle_kay_callanta: then when an ex broke up with me, i got wasted and started crying and just wrote and wrote in my journal about my heartaches.
Benjamin Arnold: Interesting...
Benjamin Arnold: I wonder if break ups for girls are the same for guys
michelle_kay_callanta: so i guess yeah, there is an actual physical pain in your heart ---- and you feel a shortness of breath and tears just sort of burn your face...
Benjamin Arnold: I believe in movies guys just drink
michelle_kay_callanta: it's easy to drink cuz the pain can be so intense but i know for guys too they drink cuz it's not like they can just sob to their buddies, not like girls.
michelle_kay_callanta: i know most guys usually just become hermits for a while. OR... they overcompensate by fucking around. so they won't have to face the pain, you know?
Benjamin Arnold: I wonder how I would react
Benjamin Arnold: curious indeed
Benjamin Arnold: I am now listening to perfect circle
michelle_kay_callanta: HAHAHAHAHA READ THE LYRICS!!! MABIGAT SYA!!!
Benjamin Arnold: So its one of those songs...
michelle_kay_callanta: but honestly in retrospect, i think it was really just my ego that was bruised...
michelle_kay_callanta: hahahaha yeah its one of those songs but the reason why i like it is cuz it's a GUY singing it, saying "you don't see me" and it's so endearing and painful to see a guy break down and be so forthcoming.
michelle_kay_callanta: you know now that i think about it, i think GOD HOW COULD I HAVE CRIED LIKE THAT???? AND FOR THAT GUY!!!
michelle_kay_callanta: my friends used to tell me that i was more in love with the drama than the guy.
Benjamin Arnold: That could be true
michelle_kay_callanta: all i know is that it really brought the writer/poet out of me, you know? and i think --- admittedly --- i think i might have deliberately sabotaged my relationships so that they would fail... so that i could feel that pain... to motivate me.
Benjamin Arnold: Very interesting indeed
Benjamin Arnold: You totally psyching yourself right now
Benjamin Arnold: hahaha
michelle_kay_callanta: Sometimes with one I love I fill myself with rage for fear I effuse unreturn'd love, But now I think there is no unreturn'd love, the pay is certain one way or another, (I loved a certain person ardently and my love was not return'd, Yet out of that I have written these songs.) -Sometimes With One I Love by Walt Whitman
michelle_kay_callanta: HAHAHAHAHA! O AYAN. That's what i think about when i think of heartbreaks.
michelle_kay_callanta: (hahaha now i just use the gym to motivate me so that my relationship doesn't fail hahahahaha besides, i don't wanna die a miserable old lonely poet now do i? =)
Benjamin Arnold: Miserable old obese lonely poet
michelle_kay_callanta: HAHAHAHA KOREK.
Benjamin Arnold: Thank you Mitch for answering my question
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
ON NEXT LEVEL LIVING
We are on that next level living. We just need to take it one step at a time, no need to jump into and dive into everything. It will unfold as we let it and as soon as we get into a comfortable system, then we can move into the next step. I'm happy that we're doing everything bit by bit. See where it's gotten us now? We actually succeeded in living together, getting through robberies, getting our own condo, fixing it up, buying all these things, raising psyche, getting married, and all that. I mean, isn't that just wonderful how we did all that in less than 2 years? I mean, who can say that they did such things while also still (pardon the terms) looking fly, partying, hosting radio shows and doing music.
HOW CAN THAT NOT PULL YOU BACK TO THE AWESOMENESS OF THE REALITY AT HAND???!!!
I love my husband because he knows how to put things into perspective... whenever I have my mini bi-polar episodes that take me into this abysmal, pathetic state of self-doubt, over-exaggerated worry, self-deprecation, and sheer and utter disenchantment.
Sometimes you just really become your worst critic and always feel that you should be something else, something seemingly more. Or different. And it's good too because it keeps you motivated, and at least it means that you actually care to make a change. It happens to everyone in phases I guess. But doing it too much, as with everything, can be damaging as well. It may lead to forgetting or even ignoring the beauty and the goodness that's already (and has always been) present in one's life. Again, what may seem "standard" for us, may be seen as something so aspirational for others. And sometimes it means seeing ourselves through the eyes of others.
*nods*
In other news...
Not to sound like some crazy health nut but hot damn, this gym membership is one of the best things I could've ever gotten (my husband) and myself. Given I can barely walk down a flight of stairs without groaning and granted my semi-master cleansing is making my face itch from all the detoxing BUT STILL. I like being the only girl brave enough to make her rounds on the machines whilst surrounded by a sea of testosterone... and amusingly pained faces and disgustingly huge muscles on body parts I didn't know muscles could exist.
Though I do still let out a sigh whenever I leave the gym and drive past a McDonald's and a Burger King. (What I'd give for a solid piece of meat in my mouth... THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID.)
This was my cue to start getting into that "physical fitness" and to [maybe] cut down my drinking... but just to the point where I don't pass out. =)
But do know that I am totally with you in the "next level". In general cleaning, rearranging, dreaming and the saving. i don't think you're weird. I just think you're better.
HOW CAN THAT NOT PULL YOU BACK TO THE AWESOMENESS OF THE REALITY AT HAND???!!!
I love my husband because he knows how to put things into perspective... whenever I have my mini bi-polar episodes that take me into this abysmal, pathetic state of self-doubt, over-exaggerated worry, self-deprecation, and sheer and utter disenchantment.
Sometimes you just really become your worst critic and always feel that you should be something else, something seemingly more. Or different. And it's good too because it keeps you motivated, and at least it means that you actually care to make a change. It happens to everyone in phases I guess. But doing it too much, as with everything, can be damaging as well. It may lead to forgetting or even ignoring the beauty and the goodness that's already (and has always been) present in one's life. Again, what may seem "standard" for us, may be seen as something so aspirational for others. And sometimes it means seeing ourselves through the eyes of others.
*nods*
In other news...
Not to sound like some crazy health nut but hot damn, this gym membership is one of the best things I could've ever gotten (my husband) and myself. Given I can barely walk down a flight of stairs without groaning and granted my semi-master cleansing is making my face itch from all the detoxing BUT STILL. I like being the only girl brave enough to make her rounds on the machines whilst surrounded by a sea of testosterone... and amusingly pained faces and disgustingly huge muscles on body parts I didn't know muscles could exist.
Though I do still let out a sigh whenever I leave the gym and drive past a McDonald's and a Burger King. (What I'd give for a solid piece of meat in my mouth... THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID.)
This was my cue to start getting into that "physical fitness" and to [maybe] cut down my drinking... but just to the point where I don't pass out. =)Psyche on speaking Filipino
Admirably, Psyche has been trying to inject a lot of Filipino into our daily conversations, sometimes even asking me to translate words for her, from English to Filipino and vice versa.
To show off her Filipino conversational skills, she comes up to me and says (in her best Filipino --un-americanized-- accent):
Psyche: Sang buhay mo ang Papa.
Me: What did you say????
Psyche: Sang buhay mo ang Papa!
Me: What does that mean in English?
Psyche: It means you found your love. And you're gonna get married and have a wedding.
Then, so that I may understand her context clues and realize that what she says makes actual sense, she continues:
Psyche: Sang buhay MO ang Papa. Sang buhay KO ang Cupid!
***If I didn't know any better, I think it makes perfect sense.
To show off her Filipino conversational skills, she comes up to me and says (in her best Filipino --un-americanized-- accent):
Psyche: Sang buhay mo ang Papa.
Me: What did you say????
Psyche: Sang buhay mo ang Papa!
Me: What does that mean in English?
Psyche: It means you found your love. And you're gonna get married and have a wedding.
Then, so that I may understand her context clues and realize that what she says makes actual sense, she continues:
Psyche: Sang buhay MO ang Papa. Sang buhay KO ang Cupid!
***If I didn't know any better, I think it makes perfect sense.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Day 66 - A picture of you doing something childish
This is me with Grace... whilst holding a very, very special butterscotch brownie.
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Day 64 - A picture of you at work
(L-R: Me, Patrick Ilagan, Steven Vea, MR Gavin, and Ben Arnold --- Gadgets Magazine Ed. and Art Team)
Day 63 - A picture of luggage
On my way home from Thailand... in my coochie cutters and without a care. =P
Thursday, September 15, 2011
I HEART THIS COMMERCIAL!!!
Ok not just because the actress is a good friend of mine from college and the ad agency that made it is the one my husband works in but because IT TOTALLY MADE ME TEAR UP AND IT ATE AWAY AT MY INSIDES CUZ THAT'S EXACTLY HOW I FEEL SOMETIMES WITH MY OWN DAUGHTER.
I make her some fried chicken and it's all good. (Aaaaaahhhh the power of fried food.)
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Day 61 - A picture of you in the fall
We don't have fall in this country but this picture was taken around October 2009, I think. =)Now this is how guys should dress!
I think I made it clear that I do not appreciate this wave of “hipster fashion” (whatever that means to you) but as one reader suggested, I DO NOT, DO NOT, DO NOT, enjoy “bro” fashion. How dare you, madam. Don’t even jest.
***Taken from Mens' Looks That I Enjoy by Apocalypstick (who has once again, NAILED. IT.)
For the fellas who pretend they don't give a sh*t about how they look and spend helluh hours and helluh money [on expensive quasi-vintage clothing] putting together an ensemble that says "look at me, I don't give a shit about what I'm wearing, I just threw this and this and this on real quick, cuz... uhm... I don't care." or "because you're trying to tell the world that you take yourself too seriously to care about what you put on your back"...
Ok don't.
And who cares if your guy friends make fun of you for looking all dapper? I think it's a shame guys don't even try anymore.
***Taken from Mens' Looks That I Enjoy by Apocalypstick (who has once again, NAILED. IT.)
For the fellas who pretend they don't give a sh*t about how they look and spend helluh hours and helluh money [on expensive quasi-vintage clothing] putting together an ensemble that says "look at me, I don't give a shit about what I'm wearing, I just threw this and this and this on real quick, cuz... uhm... I don't care." or "because you're trying to tell the world that you take yourself too seriously to care about what you put on your back"...
Ok don't.
And who cares if your guy friends make fun of you for looking all dapper? I think it's a shame guys don't even try anymore.
Day 57 - A picture of you in your backyard
My 27th birthdayThis was taken in our "front" yard since we don't have a "back" yard.
Day 55 - A picture of you with a date
Bugsy's with my favorite drinking buddy.Because the way to a woman's heart... is through her damaged liver and intoxicated head. =P
Thursday, September 8, 2011
Psyche on my wedding dress
As she lay on my bed playing with her DS, Psyche and I have a girl talk on wedding plans.
Psyche: Mommy? What are you doing?
Me: I'm just calculating on my phone the budget for our wedding.
Psyche: I want you to have a long dress for your wedding.
Me: Is it ok if I have short dress?
Psyche: I want a long dress.
Me: But I can't afford it, I don't have money.
Psyche: Don't worry Mommy, I will give you big money, not small money.
Me: How will you get your money?
Psyche: I will go to the office. After school.
Me: Why do you want me to have a long dress?
Psyche: Because I want you to be the wedding girl and I can be the flower girl.
This is our convo continued (FYI, she didn't even know I told my designer, Popo Go, the other day that I had wanted a BLUE dress instead of a WHITE one):
Then while I was playing back and watching the video I had just shot, Psyche puts her head on my shoulder, turns to look at me, and says:
"It's ok, I'll buy you a short dress because the long one is expensive."
Then she smiles.
I have the sweetest daughter in the world. I fiercely believe this.
Psyche: Mommy? What are you doing?
Me: I'm just calculating on my phone the budget for our wedding.
Psyche: I want you to have a long dress for your wedding.
Me: Is it ok if I have short dress?
Psyche: I want a long dress.
Me: But I can't afford it, I don't have money.
Psyche: Don't worry Mommy, I will give you big money, not small money.
Me: How will you get your money?
Psyche: I will go to the office. After school.
Me: Why do you want me to have a long dress?
Psyche: Because I want you to be the wedding girl and I can be the flower girl.
This is our convo continued (FYI, she didn't even know I told my designer, Popo Go, the other day that I had wanted a BLUE dress instead of a WHITE one):
Then while I was playing back and watching the video I had just shot, Psyche puts her head on my shoulder, turns to look at me, and says:
"It's ok, I'll buy you a short dress because the long one is expensive."
Then she smiles.
I have the sweetest daughter in the world. I fiercely believe this.
Tuesday, September 6, 2011
Psyche and fairytales
Nothing makes me prouder than to see my daughter reading to herself (without my asking)... even if she doesn't know how to read. That's why I encourage moms to read to their kids before going to bed. Teach them to look for books, to WANT to read books, and to encourage the use of their imaginations.
Day 52 - A picture of you dressed up
patron + belvedere + afghan shit = HOT. MESS.And yes, that's my sister Mika and the bouncers trying to help me back up to our table. =)
*The Ego and Its Own
I read A Testimonial to Alienation last night on the plane on my way back from Bacolod.
Now, I don't know anything about the whole James Soriano drama save for what Mr. Dalisay had to write about him in yesterday's column --- Mr. Dalisay's article being the only response compelling enough for me to actually READ Language, learning, identity, privilege and see just what all the hype was about --- as well as a few angry blogs I simply perused in reaction to Mr. Soriano's article.
And it got me thinking...
Nay, remembering...
Remembering a time when my mother, 3 sisters, and I migrated to the States to be reunited with our father... it was October of '96 and I was already 6 years old then. I was enrolled immediately into the first grade and I remember my 1st grade teacher, Mrs. Gallagher. I remember her asking me if I understood English and I distinctly remember nodding. I also remember not talking on my first day of school and I remember my parents' anxiety when I got home, afraid that I hadn't understood a thing, that the kids might've thought me a dumb mute. But I did understand. I just wasn't all that confident to communicate in English.
I remember not liking the feeling that I was an outsider. Or that I was stupid. Or that I wasn't anyone worth befriending.
And after that moment, I lost all memory of me ever knowing Filipino as a child. It's as if I pulled a self-Eternal Sunshine on my ass and completely deleted the language from my brain, so effectively that by the time I was 7, I could barely understand my parents, uncles and aunts when they'd "bust out in Filipino." I couldn't even translate to my Fil-american cousins the arguments their parents were having whenever they argued in Filipino as we eavesdropped. I suppose it was because I felt I no longer needed the language to feel... at home.
Seven years later, I moved back to the PI with my older sister and spent one school year un-enrolled and was left at home all day with our "yaya" and Eat Bulaga, Marimar, Maria Mercedes, and Maria del Barrio to keep me busy. And with Thalia for a mentor, I slowly re-discovered Filipino (I discovered the language "with" her), but not quickly enough to keep my 1st year highschool classmates the following year from poking fun at my "twang" and my awful discernment between "hindi" and "wala." At first, I fought the system, claiming that I should be exempted from Filipino class (that taught the downright heavy-hitting Ibong Adarna, Florante at Laura, Noli Mi Tangere, and El Filibusterismo) since first of all, I could barely speak the language properly and second, it wouldn't have been fair to put me in a class that "advanced."
But I was Filipino, they said. I may not have sounded like one. But underneath my Westernized air and Jersey accent, I still was.
I remember not liking the feeling that I was an outsider. Or that I was stupid. Or that I wasn't anyone worth befriending.
I didn't like my classmates trying to talk to me in English to appease me, struggling to communicate with me. And all the while "their noses were bleeding," all I could think of was, "Shit, why don't I know how to speak in Filipino so they wouldn't have such a hard time getting to know me and they wouldn't think I was this snotty, little bitch!"
So my God, I learned. I read and reread and exhausted context clues like some foreign language-CSI. At first, I was failing. Miserably. But as I went on, encouraging my friends to talk to me in Filipino, encouraging myself to respond and converse in Filipino, to sing in Filipino... I began to do better than some of my other peers whose first language was undoubtedly, Filipino.
Of course, there was no way I was going to forget English.
But I did eventually learn. And by the time I got to college (learning about Karl Marx and HIS theory of alienation), I was already fluent and learning different "hues" to our surprisingly beautiful language. (I still say "awas" when asking what time a person's leaving and i still put the prefix "na" in most of the verbs I use IE. nakain, naulan.)
Now I understand why some people would think English is "the language of the learned" --- it's kinda like how we look at designer "imported" stuff as opposed to our local and beautifully-crafted originals. We think anything Western is better, from the shoes to the bags and even to the language. Even some of my Fil-American friends who migrated here, have spent years and years here, still refuse to learn Filipino thoroughly and are content with "survival Filipino" for when they need to hail a cab or ask for discounts.
Don't get me wrong: I'm glad our father encouraged our trip to the US and that I learned to speak English fluently since most of my classes were taught in English and a lot of my presentations needed to be delivered in English (strangely, it was only in my 4th year in h/s that I was awarded Best in English and never before then). I am thankful for having learned it through pleasant mundane interaction as opposed to a formal albeit forceful institution. I'm thankful for my pronunciation and enunciation and cadence (and not like how some people speak English in this country with this absolutely weird and "deep-throaty" accent that's completely baffling ---conyo, I think they call it--- then again, I'm sure people are pretty weirded out when my Jersey [shore] accent becomes apparent so... to each his own.)
But I am more glad that I learned Filipino and not because I believe it is "the language of identity" or even "the language of the streets" --- the same language that may just "save me from being mugged in the jeepney"... I am glad because it is the language of "home" and since my return from the States some 15 years ago, the Philippines has been MY home, where my heart is now as it was in Jersey [my personal "province"] when I was 6 and I would not have been able to earn a sense of MY identity if it weren't for these homes and the love that was "communicated" to me. In English AND Filipino (though I wish that "love" were also communicated to me in Ilocano, Pangalatok, and especially now, in Chinese... but that's not the point. =)
When I teach English or such subjects as American Literature, I remind my students that we’re taking up the subject not to try and become Americans, but to become better Filipinos. - Butch Dalisay
Unapologetically and without a morsel of modesty, I'd like to think I'm a better Filipino for knowing both.
But seriously, I thought Soriano's reason for needing to learn Filipino --- because we are forced to relate with the tinderas and the manongs and the katulongs of this world --- was HILARIOUS. I can just imagine him saying it LIKE THAT, shit'll crack. me. up. =)
*Taken from The Ego and Its Own by Max Stirner
Now, I don't know anything about the whole James Soriano drama save for what Mr. Dalisay had to write about him in yesterday's column --- Mr. Dalisay's article being the only response compelling enough for me to actually READ Language, learning, identity, privilege and see just what all the hype was about --- as well as a few angry blogs I simply perused in reaction to Mr. Soriano's article.
And it got me thinking...
Nay, remembering...
Remembering a time when my mother, 3 sisters, and I migrated to the States to be reunited with our father... it was October of '96 and I was already 6 years old then. I was enrolled immediately into the first grade and I remember my 1st grade teacher, Mrs. Gallagher. I remember her asking me if I understood English and I distinctly remember nodding. I also remember not talking on my first day of school and I remember my parents' anxiety when I got home, afraid that I hadn't understood a thing, that the kids might've thought me a dumb mute. But I did understand. I just wasn't all that confident to communicate in English.
I remember not liking the feeling that I was an outsider. Or that I was stupid. Or that I wasn't anyone worth befriending.
And after that moment, I lost all memory of me ever knowing Filipino as a child. It's as if I pulled a self-Eternal Sunshine on my ass and completely deleted the language from my brain, so effectively that by the time I was 7, I could barely understand my parents, uncles and aunts when they'd "bust out in Filipino." I couldn't even translate to my Fil-american cousins the arguments their parents were having whenever they argued in Filipino as we eavesdropped. I suppose it was because I felt I no longer needed the language to feel... at home.
Seven years later, I moved back to the PI with my older sister and spent one school year un-enrolled and was left at home all day with our "yaya" and Eat Bulaga, Marimar, Maria Mercedes, and Maria del Barrio to keep me busy. And with Thalia for a mentor, I slowly re-discovered Filipino (I discovered the language "with" her), but not quickly enough to keep my 1st year highschool classmates the following year from poking fun at my "twang" and my awful discernment between "hindi" and "wala." At first, I fought the system, claiming that I should be exempted from Filipino class (that taught the downright heavy-hitting Ibong Adarna, Florante at Laura, Noli Mi Tangere, and El Filibusterismo) since first of all, I could barely speak the language properly and second, it wouldn't have been fair to put me in a class that "advanced."
But I was Filipino, they said. I may not have sounded like one. But underneath my Westernized air and Jersey accent, I still was.
I remember not liking the feeling that I was an outsider. Or that I was stupid. Or that I wasn't anyone worth befriending.
I didn't like my classmates trying to talk to me in English to appease me, struggling to communicate with me. And all the while "their noses were bleeding," all I could think of was, "Shit, why don't I know how to speak in Filipino so they wouldn't have such a hard time getting to know me and they wouldn't think I was this snotty, little bitch!"
So my God, I learned. I read and reread and exhausted context clues like some foreign language-CSI. At first, I was failing. Miserably. But as I went on, encouraging my friends to talk to me in Filipino, encouraging myself to respond and converse in Filipino, to sing in Filipino... I began to do better than some of my other peers whose first language was undoubtedly, Filipino.
Of course, there was no way I was going to forget English.
But I did eventually learn. And by the time I got to college (learning about Karl Marx and HIS theory of alienation), I was already fluent and learning different "hues" to our surprisingly beautiful language. (I still say "awas" when asking what time a person's leaving and i still put the prefix "na" in most of the verbs I use IE. nakain, naulan.)
Now I understand why some people would think English is "the language of the learned" --- it's kinda like how we look at designer "imported" stuff as opposed to our local and beautifully-crafted originals. We think anything Western is better, from the shoes to the bags and even to the language. Even some of my Fil-American friends who migrated here, have spent years and years here, still refuse to learn Filipino thoroughly and are content with "survival Filipino" for when they need to hail a cab or ask for discounts.
Don't get me wrong: I'm glad our father encouraged our trip to the US and that I learned to speak English fluently since most of my classes were taught in English and a lot of my presentations needed to be delivered in English (strangely, it was only in my 4th year in h/s that I was awarded Best in English and never before then). I am thankful for having learned it through pleasant mundane interaction as opposed to a formal albeit forceful institution. I'm thankful for my pronunciation and enunciation and cadence (and not like how some people speak English in this country with this absolutely weird and "deep-throaty" accent that's completely baffling ---conyo, I think they call it--- then again, I'm sure people are pretty weirded out when my Jersey [shore] accent becomes apparent so... to each his own.)
But I am more glad that I learned Filipino and not because I believe it is "the language of identity" or even "the language of the streets" --- the same language that may just "save me from being mugged in the jeepney"... I am glad because it is the language of "home" and since my return from the States some 15 years ago, the Philippines has been MY home, where my heart is now as it was in Jersey [my personal "province"] when I was 6 and I would not have been able to earn a sense of MY identity if it weren't for these homes and the love that was "communicated" to me. In English AND Filipino (though I wish that "love" were also communicated to me in Ilocano, Pangalatok, and especially now, in Chinese... but that's not the point. =)
When I teach English or such subjects as American Literature, I remind my students that we’re taking up the subject not to try and become Americans, but to become better Filipinos. - Butch Dalisay
Unapologetically and without a morsel of modesty, I'd like to think I'm a better Filipino for knowing both.
But seriously, I thought Soriano's reason for needing to learn Filipino --- because we are forced to relate with the tinderas and the manongs and the katulongs of this world --- was HILARIOUS. I can just imagine him saying it LIKE THAT, shit'll crack. me. up. =)
*Taken from The Ego and Its Own by Max Stirner
Monday, September 5, 2011
Day 49 - A picture of you and your best friend
I seriously think this girl is my soulmate. *yuuuuuuuuck*Friday, September 2, 2011
Day 48 - A picture of you more than 10 years ago
My daddy's birthday (in Jersey). I'm the cheeky one with the demure smile on the right.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
One on One
I've seriously got this on loop because I think it's one of the sexiest covers EVER (especially when women sing songs with original male vocals and keep the lyrics in the masculine ---- there's something so sensually androgynous about it. And nothing to me is sexier than a woman who knows what she wants and is confident enough to ask for it... even if she knows deep down, she can take it whenever she pleases.)
And because I wanna play that game tonight. *bites lip*
Which reminds me of another cover done by Janet Jackson which I found so SEXY, it made me wanna touch myself.
And because I wanna play that game tonight. *bites lip*
Which reminds me of another cover done by Janet Jackson which I found so SEXY, it made me wanna touch myself.
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