become nothing. embrace the void

Today, I am not sure of who or what I have become during the last couple of months.

Today, I just want to stare at the world, give my mind a rest. A rest that I am hoping will make me forget everything of the last couple of months.

I became someone I myself surely will hate. I am sure I was not lost but I think we all have those little monsters inside of us. Mine are those irrational yellow little hopeful monsters. I have always tried not to invest too much emotions towards anyone especially, when it comes to relationships. I for a fact, find it really hard to trust others ( except for myself ).

Regrets will always have its own paragraph in every story. I was not a hundred percent into the whole drama but that one tiny detail had me broken. It could have been a better memory had I not been taken over by my little monsters. Now, I think I will hate myself for that for the rest of my life until I grow old, get Alzheimer's and eventually forget to hate myself.

Giving up was and still my forte. If you think that I am not brave enough, then do so. I was never good at relationships, or maybe at one point I was until I got tired of the drama it tags along. The problem with a person like me is I hate doing the drama with some other people. I do it on my own. If I have to cry, I make sure I cry on with my hands on my face. My hands. I always make sure my head is always over my heart. Funny how I really have to use the word heart.

In the past I have always denied myself of what they call happiness-in-the-arms-of-a-person-who-loves-you. Small tiny details that make me whine or simple gestures I cannot stand, I am definitely out the door. I am indifferent and impatient like that. I do not believe in falling super duper in-love that you look past everything. I do not do that.

What happened the last couple of months, I got too busy and let the little monsters in me do what they want. I got lost in gravity. Lost, because I have been doubting myself since day one. And every single day of it I knew, I knew what he was and what I was to him. I just shrugged it off because I know that I am smart enough to never go beyond that line. Until I got the phone call. I knew there would be a phone call, but this soon?

The phone call was my wake-up call. And it just smashed everything into my face. It made me the bad stupid person of the story. And the sad part is I got so shocked I just do not know how to react. I guess we all get to that point in our lives where something really bad happens to us and we get helpless and cannot do a single thing about it. I did not cry. Not this time. Here is how I describe it; after the call, I was like a computer which is hanging and pressing any button wouldn't do a thing about it. No, shutting down wouldn't do anything either. At that moment, when She called and told me who he was and what I was, bam! VACUUUUM ! I was in a vacuum. Everything was numb. All reason was gone. No logic left. I just got tired, tired of myself. If you are going to ask if I talked to him, no. What for? confirming or denying wouldn't do anything to me anymore at that time. Wouldn't change a thing either. I am still the bad stupid person.

Now I am tired. Just so you know, this was a draft a month old already, it is just now, a few hours to 2011, that I got to thinkof some more words to add here. I still do not know how to end this. Actually I don't think I could ever. I just want to forget. I know I will forget the person, could be in a few days, weeks, maybe in three months or in five years. Doesn't matter. But I will forget.

Cheers.

Happy new year to me.

i love green tea

L: bakla...mjo may tama ako..magaan pkiramdam ko..ng 2 shot ako ng absolut vodka dito sa bhay
Noriza Villafuerte: haha
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Noriza Villafuerte: ntwa ako s sukob n part
Noriza Villafuerte is typing a message.
Noriza Villafuerte: hahaha

saturday hateday

after almost 6 years. why did i have to see you again.

and why do i get to remember...

everything.

why?

Design SPonge

I stumbled to this site last 2008. And its bursting with all creatvie and artsy ideas ranging from product design down to interior & furniture design. This site also includes videos and images of do-it-yourself projects which i find very useful especially for interior designers like me. so below are some images i got from the site

This beautiful site is http://www.designspongeonline.com/

what is a man?

By Tom Chiarella for Esquire

A man carries cash. A man looks out for those around him -- woman, friend, stranger. A man can cook eggs. A man can always find something good to watch on television. A man makes things -- a rock wall, a table, the tuition money. Or he rebuilds -- engines, watches, fortunes. He passes along expertise, one man to the next. Know-how survives him. A man fantasizes that kung fu lives deep inside him somewhere. A man is good at his job. Not his work, not his avocation, not his hobby. Not his career. His job. It doesn't matter what his job is, because if a man doesn't like his job, he gets a new one.

A man can speak to dogs.
A man listens, and that's how he argues. He crafts opinions. He can pound the table, take the floor. It's not that he must. It's that he can.
A man can look you up and down and figure some things out. Before you say a word, he makes you. From your suitcase, from your watch, from your posture. A man infers.
A man owns up. That's why Mark McGwire is not a man. A man grasps his mistakes. He lays claim to who he is, and what he was, whether he likes them or not.
Some mistakes, though, he lets pass if no one notices. Like dropping the steak in the dirt.
A man can tell you he was wrong. That he did wrong. That he planned to. He can tell you when he is lost. He can apologize, even if sometimes it's just to put an end to the bickering.
A man does not wither at the thought of dancing. But it is generally to be avoided.
Style -- a man has that. No matter how eccentric that style is, it is uncontrived. It's a set of rules.
A man loves the human body, the revelation of nakedness. He loves the sight of the pale bosom, the physics of the human skeleton, the alternating current of the flesh. He is thrilled by the wrist and the sight of a bare shoulder. He likes the crease of a bent knee.
Maybe he never has, and maybe he never will, but a man figures he can knock someone, somewhere, on his bottom.
A man doesn't point out that he did the dishes.
A man knows how to ridicule.
A man gets the door. Without thinking.
He stops traffic when he must.
A man knows how to lose an afternoon. Playing Grand Theft Auto, driving aimlessly, shooting pool.
He knows how to lose a month, also.
A man welcomes the coming of age. It frees him. It allows him to assume the upper hand and teaches him when to step aside.
He understands the basic mechanics of the planet. Or he can close one eye, look up at the sun, and tell you what time of day it is. Or where north is. He can tell you where you might find something to eat or where the fish run. He understands electricity or the internal-combustion engine, the mechanics of flight or how to figure a pitcher's ERA.
A man does not know everything. He doesn't try. He likes what other men know.
A man knows his tools and how to use them -- just the ones he needs. Knows which saw is for what, how to find the stud, when to use galvanized nails.
A miter saw, incidentally, is the kind that sits on a table, has a circular blade, and is used for cutting at precise angles. Very satisfying saw.
He does not rely on rationalizations or explanations. He doesn't winnow, winnow, winnow until truths can be humbly categorized, or intellectualized, until behavior can be written off with an explanation. He doesn't see himself lost in some great maw of humanity, some grand sweep. That's the liberal thread; it's why men won't line up as liberals.
A man resists formulations, questions belief, embraces ambiguity without making a fetish out of it. A man revisits his beliefs. Continually. That's why men won't forever line up with conservatives, either.
A man is comfortable being alone. Loves being alone, actually. He sleeps.
Or he stands watch. He interrupts trouble. This is the state policeman. This is the poet. Men, both of them.
A man loves driving alone most of all.
A man watches. Sometimes he goes and sits at an auction knowing he won't spend a dime, witnessing the temptation and the maneuvering of others. Sometimes he stands on the street corner watching stuff. This is not about quietude so much as collection. It is not about meditation so much as considering. A man refracts his vision and gains acuity. This serves him in every way. No one taught him this -- to be quiet, to cipher, to watch. In this way, in these moments, the man is like a zoo animal: both captive and free. You cannot take your eyes off a man when he is like that. You shouldn't. Who knows what he is thinking, who he is, or what he will do next.