The Lemon Law.

Please tell me why of all buck-tooth hillbillys, we have to reflect on Miley Cyrus? There are loads of songs out there that we could reflect on, why pick something as juvenile and straightforward as The Climb? What are we, 10? Everybody knows that it's about the journey and not the destination, please, she freaking says that in her lyrics for crying out loud.
Why couldn't they pick something a bit more challenging, that's another thing I dont like about my school, they dont CHALLENGE us. They give us work that's of a 13 year old's standard and it's annoying. They might as well pick a song like Barney's I Love You, that requires just about as much thought process.

Onto a happier note...

I finished my How I Met Your Mother Season 1 marathon, and let me tell you, the magnitude of awesomeness is not comparable to anything. It was like ten 500m tsunami's hitting the terminators sheild and backlashing onto itself, only worse because there was 5000m of humiliation thrown in, too. Yes, that awesome.

So I still have a ton of Home-Study homework to do, they gave us some time off school but they then gave us online classes and homework, did I mention I believe it is officially the start of the digital age? Hah. Mark my words. When textbooks come out in the future and they look a little something like this:

THE DIGITAL AGE (2009-current)

A time when everything was controlled digitally, hence the name of the period. Classes, newspapers and even relationships were now performed over the internet.

....

The era was first announced by Joanna Marie S. Kennedy (1993-present) who has found a way to turn herself into a robot so she could experience everlasting life..

Then we'll see who gets the last laugh. :) In case you're slow and honestly questioning who, it'll be ME. Because I'll have my name in textbooks.. wait there wont be books.. okay digital textbooks! And you'll be.. fixing your internet. HAH.

A perfect Memory.

This is some creative writing I never had the drive to finish. I wrote a few chapters, but I guess I liked the idea of it more than anything. I was so ready, with my storyline and all the events and characters all written down, but looking at the long list drained me out, how was I going to write about all of that? I'll try my best to continue writing little passages for this, because I want the main character to have an amazing, eventful life. But that can't happen if I dont give her one.

Eva opens her eyes to a new day; she acknowledges me sitting on the edge of the bed and reaches out for my hand. I extend my arm so she can reach, and she grips on it softly. I ask her if today is going to be the same as yesterday, a stupid question, really.
“Every detail of today will be different from yesterday: The way the clouds cross the sky, the direction in which you will pour your juice, even the number of water droplets falling out of my tap. You should know that by now.”
Of course, I nod my head, rolling my eyes. I’ve heard things similar to this all my life. I ask her if she wants to get up now, but she shakes her head.
“I have to think of my grandchildren’s smiles so I can lift myself out of bed” she explains. After a few minutes she sits up, and manages to stand. She walks across to the bathroom, and I start to make the bed.
Eva gets out of the bathroom and sits at her dressing table, she examines her wrinkled face and pets her white hair, and she catches me watching,
“That's how you know how much someone lived, you know? Wrinkles like these are marks of times sadness has made you frown or furrow your brow, and times happiness has made you laugh out loud. Trust me, you will know how much someone has lived by the depth of their creases.”
She pulls out a thick diamond necklace from her drawer, smiling as she touches the sparkling rocks. She opens her wardrobe and searches through her clothes, she finally pulls out a scarlet ball gown, I start laughing, she has been wearing gowns everyday this week. She winks at me,
“The world tells me I have nothing to live for at 72-”
“-You’re 77,” I remind her,
“Shh! somebody might hear you! Anyway, let me tell you, missy, I have no shame wearing my finest dresses and jewels when I have no plans of leaving my house, and I love it that way! Today we will lounge around, eat chocolates from a fancy box and listen to some fine music, not the crap they play on the radio, and maybe we’ll watch one of your fathers movies!” she says excitedly.
I help her cross the house, so we can go eat breakfast in the kitchen before relax in the living room then feed the birds, a regime we’ve been following for the week I’ve been here. She lets go of her tight hold on my forearm and climbs onto her kitchen stools. I pull out the silver bowls she’s had since her mother passed away and set them on the table, adjacent to her crystal cups, just the way she likes it. I’ve never been much of a cook so I throw in random spices along with the eggs in a pan, and hope it turns out good. Eva hides a smirk when I shuffle them onto her plate.
“I saw that. And eat it, eggs are full of protein”
“Like I need protein,” she doesn’t finish her sentence, but we both know what she was going to say. I hand over her medication, a dozen little pills that are meant to sustain her life. We look outside the big window, both calmly watching the gray sea and it’s cold mist as we chew on (perfectly tasty) eggs and sip on orange juice. The gardener interrupts our serene morning by starting his lawn mower, so I get up to clean the plates. Eva turns to face my back at the sink,
“Why now?” she asks, “Why do you only choose to visit me now?”
“Because you asked me to” I remind her, she sighs.
“I know, but why should I have to ask you? Why can’t you just pop by and surprise me?”
“Because I work and I have to organize a date if I want to get time off, and I did visit! Christmas, Easter, your birthday, I did!” I argue,
“Fine,” she sighs, I start to feel slightly bad.
I turn off the tap and dry my hands, then walk over to her. I extend my arms slightly then retract them again, unsure of my next action. She gives me a strange look, as if we’re playing charades and she has no idea what I’m trying to do. I lean over and hug her; she hugs me back, breathing into my hair.

We sit on her fat armchairs, which smell of powder and expensive perfume, Eva has a box of “expensive” chocolate on her lap and I lean over to pick one, but she slaps my hand away,
“Get your own,” she moans.
I give her my death stare and she rolls her eyes,
“Fine, but let it melt in your mouth, don’t chew, so it will last longer and I’ll have more for myself,” She laughs, offering me the box.
I look at her, happy as can be in her diamonds and scarlet dress, eating fine chocolate with her feet propped up.
“Can we look through some old photo albums?” I ask.
She smiles and says her signature line, ‘I don’t need photographs to remember the past’. I look at her pleadingly. She finally nods and points to the bookshelf, I pull them out and sit on the floor beside her chair. Propping the album on my knees, I motion to flip the cover open. It’s something I’ve done many times before, but for some reason, this time feels different. This time, I’m nervous.
We look at the black and white photos of Eva when she was barely six years old.
“I remember that day! My hair was in curlers for hours,” she explained.
I’ve always been jealous of Eva’s unreal memory, unfaltering even at the age of 77.
“Tell me your life story?” I ask. She looks at me, unsure if I was joking or not.
“72 years worth of stories, are you sure?” She asks,
“Yes. Please. I never got a chance to know everything about you when I was growing up. And while I’m here, I want to know. Please.” I beg.
Eva looks deep into my eyes and finally realizes that I’m serious, she draws a deep breath and nods.

Starts where it ends

School was suspended until July 6th. How awesome is that? Awesome enough to dance around with socks on and nothing else! Not that I did that.
I haven't got many updates right now, my fingernails are painted orange to celebrate my freedom. My eyes are dragging downwards, yearning for sleep. I have more chapters of my story but theyre on paper and quite frankly I cannot be bothered to type them up, but I will. I promise and that means I really will because I always keep my promises.
They posted online classes and homework on the school website, might as well give us online detention. : But no, it's fine. At least I'll have something to do. I've done half of my Chem homework and like, 1/10 of my Eng. Haven't touched math.

--
She sat on the edge of her wooden chair, rocking back and forth. Ice cream spilt from her pores and ran down her wrists, sticky trails of sweet indulgence. Her hair was messy from the wind's sweet caresses, the clocks ticked by in perfect timing, creating a somewhat stiff Waltz for the birds. Her sleepy eyes called for rest, but she forced them open, continuing to watch the bright screen in front of her, and the black worlds which scrawled all over the page like dancing zebras. They galloped and skipped, black stripes against white. Or was it the other way around?
--

So tired.
Creative writing to be posted tomorrow. :)
Cheers

Fulfil your dreams.

Never let anybody tell you that you can't do it.

Chapter 13: Subconscious Plots

Victoria woke up with a jolt. She assured herself it was just a dream, but she couldn't help worrying. Her dreams had turned out to be actual events a few times before, she had to know, make sure it wouldn't happen. She rubbed her temples and cleared her mind of the stress that could add possible evidence of age to her radiant skin, she shakily stood up and took a deep breath. She rummaged through her shelves, what she was looking for wasn't there. She opened her dusty cabinets, pushed aside the dead rats and jars of medicine. She was starting to panic, but quickly remembered her last keeping place. She pulled out her heavy trunk, she always liked it. It was a chest made of dark wood with a metal frame, engraved with some foreign language she never understood, she recalled her fathers explanations..

He looked at her from behind his thick glasses and white beard, she sat on his lap and the chest lay before them. He ran his fingers over chest, smiling. "Vicky, do you see this? This is a language of oriental mysteries. Of men in silk robes and strange antiquities. They speak with sharp tongues and their words are drawn like pictures" he explained with such a faraway look, "Oh Vicky, you should see their treasures! The whitest porcelain you'd ever see, encrusted with gems you could only dream of! Blue, red, green, every colour imaginable!" her father let her look closely as he watched from his big armchair, smiling at her curiousity.

Victoria held the broken lock in her hand, she twisted it and unlacthed the lid. The contents of the precious trunk shone in the dark room, there it was. The ball made of pure crystal, with voices that could tell the future. She held it in her palm. waiting for a sign. Nothing. She shook the fragile ball, an army of voices moaned inside the sphere.

"Show me the truth" She told it.

She stared into its dark clouds, and no doubt, they were swirling in the small, trapped atmosphere. They navy mist started turning into a pink haze and a hollow, shrill voice spoke from it.

"Your dreams are more than pictures in your mind. Your dreams have a purpose, a destiny. Your dreams do not lie to you, what you see is what will happen." it sang.

Victoria watched, gutted. Her anger boiling under skin. The smoke inside the ball danced into pink and then turned into the darkest shade of the night sky.

Spread it around like a big piece of butter.

Alas, the weekend arrives like a warm hug on sunday mornings. The first week of school was basic orientation, but I was lacking so much sleep I crashed on my bed when I got home yesterday, around 5pm, and I woke up at 10am today. Much Need Rest is now ticked off my To-Do List. :) I watched Obsessed and The Secret Life of Bees, then did my Chemistry homework (which was to make some random collage about chemistry in society, I love making collages) and I just typed up some stuff for History. I'll finish the rest tomorrow.
I have another chapter for my story in my notebook, well, 3 chapters actually, but I promise to type them up here tomorrow. So that will be my Creative Writing input for the mo'.

Btw I was stunned yesterday because Gia told me she has never licked the spoon after baking cookies. WTF, RIGHT? Who the hell doesn't or hasn't ever licked the spoon? Thats the best part about baking. I usually eat the cookie dough because it tastes better than the actual cookies. Who gives a sh*t about Salmonella? Psh, if you let that stop you then you haven't lived!

Who agrees with me? That licking the spoon is the best and most sacred part of baking? And who hasn't done that before?

Just the way I like it.

Bathroom floor, tiles cold, lights off. Just how I like it. No water running, nobody around, no sounds but the voices in my head, telling me what to write.

Words are flowing out like endless rain into a paper cup,
They slither while they pass, they slip away across the universe
Pools of sorrow, waves of joy are drifting through my open mind,
Possessing and caressing me.
Jai guru de va om

Nothing's gonna change my world.

Pen in hand, scribbling away onto the crumpled paper, blue lines supporting the weight of the heavy words. My letters different sizes, my dots and crosses uneven. Light shines in from behind the windows grill, cutting rays into different sizes.

Images of broken light which dance before me like a million eyes,
That call me on and on across the universe,
Thoughts meander like a restless wind inside a letter box they
Tumble blindly as they make their way
Across the universe
Jai guru de va om

Nothing's gonna change my world.

My bones cry against the hard floor. Call out for me to protect them with blankets of flesh. My ribs jut out and shoulders shake, an unsteady foundation. I am losing myself in a universe of my mind, worlds of passion, stars of hopes and asteroids of fears. My galaxies entwine and crash against each other, millions of specks fly through my sky, lost in orbit.

Sounds of laughter shades of earth are ringing
Through my open views inviting and inciting me
Limitless undying love which shines around me like a
million suns, it calls me on and on
Across the universe
Jai guru de va om
Nothing's gonna change my world.

Silence over daybreaks.

Had our first day of school today, it wasn't that bad. I'm in 3A, Junior year. My homeroom teacher is really awesome, she went on about how it was important to practice our rights, and how she'll defend us if teachers abuse their authority over us. She's really sweet and she tried her best to make us comfortable. She's the kind you'd like to hug. She's also very firm in her beliefs, she made us stand up and sing a Praise & Worship song while clapping our hands. It was alright. My subject teachers are all pretty goody, my timetable is good, I like having math and science as my first subjects, because I actually listen when I have no energy in the mornings. My class is okay. We're all still shy around each other and we haven't really broken the ice. I can tell we'll be an okay class, a pretty quiet one most probably. Which is good because I have to focus this year, anyway.
I was really happy afterschool because we talked to our Club Advisor, Ms Mina, who has so many real PLANS for the club, I'm so happy. She's a star.
So that's about it. I have a short passage of creative writing, it isnt that good. According to my "Biorythm" my Creative Period is over for the mo'.
Peace out, friends.

Photographs take me to place away from where I am. They captivate me, stir emotions that never existed, creating memories of a life I never lived. For a while, just a short while, during the few milliseconds right after I look at a photo, I am transported. I am in the photo, laughing with the girl lying in the daisies, blowing bubbles and squinting at the sun. I can feel what she feels, I can see what she sees. But then that fades, that partial existence in another moment, another life, it vanishes and I am left where I started. On the floor, with photographs in my hand.

Hiatus

Blogging has started to feel like an obligation. I'm not very good when obligated to do something.

Will take a break away from this. See you when I get back. :)

Kick off your sunday shoes.

Dear Joanna,
I’m writing this letter to you because we both know that it’s the only way you’ll understand. I wanted to tell you what I keep stored in my mind.
First of all, thank you. Thank you for practicing your patience today. That you for not fighting with your mother, and trying to adjust your stubborn attitude. You know, how you go all quiet and cold when you don’t get what you want, how you guilt the person into giving in. It’s not nice. You can’t always have your way, and thank you for dealing with that.
Second, thank you for standing up for yourself. You usually want to be friends with everyone, want to be liked by all the people you know. But you have finally grown to understand that it doesn’t matter if people don’t like you, as long as you’re being true to yourself. You know who matters, and you know who doesn’t. You know you matter to me, so thank you for taking care of your rights and beliefs.
Third, thank you for being rational. You did not complain today when your mother bought herself something nice, and you did not buy anything. You did not ask your mother to buy your friend’s birthday gift, you bought it with your monthly allowance, something you wouldn’t have done for something that expensive. You did not pick up whatever your eye fancies and put it in the supermarket trolley, usually you would sneak a few bars of chocolate between the milk cartons, but today, you did not. Thank you for hugging your mother when she agreed to buy a small gift for your other friend, even if it was on a sale. Thank you for biting your lip when your mother made your temper twitch, thank you for swallowing your anger.
I’m proud of you, you are truly growing and recovering from your stubborn, spoilt ways. And about those nerves, I know that they’re going to go away soon. Your palms wont get clammy and your stomach won’t knot. You’ll realize that there’s no need to be nervous anymore, you’ll realize that there was a reason to be. And you’ll be truly happy. I just know it.
Lots of love,
Yourself.

Meet Chu at da Bronx.

Today, I am really happy, I'm going to do some creative writing and I'll post it ASAP.
I managed to complete 4 out of 10 in my summer wishlist, all in one day! Before today, I had nothing. :(

So Gia and Cami came over around 10am and we went to school to sell one of my Pussycat Doll concert tickets. (Thank you Yani, btw)
We went for lunch courtesy of my mother, and onto Darren's house we went. We made another episode of Joey & Cameron, where I believe I accidentally killed Cameron. I'll post it sometime. So that's one on my list checked off.
We watched Repo Man: The Genetic Opera which has this Rent and Sweeny Todd kinda fusion to it, it's really good! A lot of Gore and Goth. Paris Hilton is there and there's this one sick scene where she's singing and her face... I'll leave you hanging :)
Then we went swimming and jacuzzi-ing, it's fun to sit on the little people and drown them, teehee. We sat in the jacuzzi, it was soo warm. Probably due to a lot of kid's piss, but oh well. There were bubbles? Who can resist bubbles!?
Then we had a BBQ dinner, I ate so much it was so good. We forgot to bring candles so it was hard to see our food but it was fun :) There's another 2 checked off my list, BBQ and group dinner. Woot! We had to go `cos our parents were getting annoyed, we were taking cabs home and cabs+nighttime=bad rapist drivers.
So yeah. We found one, and the guy wanted to charge us 30 pesos more for 2 stops, and we agreed. So we turned around to say our goodbyes, and the cab drove up the road, we thought he was just gonna U-Turn.. but he never came back :( FAIL.
It was hilarious. So there's another but instead of MRT Adventures, it's Taxi Adventures, yay! So we dropped cami off, then Gia and I got off and her dad sent me home.
Oh, did I mention my ex texted me? Probably due to his assish behaviour the day before.
Hey jo...
if its about the tickets, what? If its not, then i'm busy.
Ayt. Nevermind. I just wanted to try and be friends but I see that's not possible.. bye.
K

No, I don't feel bad. The few people I let into my life should be the ones I choose. I should decide who my friends should be, who to trust and love. I don't have to "make it work" or make sure I'm on good terms with everyone I know. Just because you're not friends with everybody doesn't mean you're a bad person, it means you're a real one.

And finally, HAPPY BIRTHDAY MON! I LOVE YOU. Seriously, I do. You are one very very very special person. Happy 16th, I hope you make it awesome :) And I'm so sorry for not realising today is the 11th. I am going to go and buy you something very nice. :)
I LOVE YOU.

9th O` June

Can't bring myself to write.

So here's a video about my day.

Sorry it's such a close up and sorry I dont look good.

Hope you had a good 9th of June :)

Violation

He stroked her hair and whispered sweet nothings into her ear, bottle of gin in one hand, and the other around her waist. She giggled and kissed the side of his head, and his face, and his neck, never touching his lips. He took another gulp of the amber liquid, and then another. They laughed and rolled around in the dark park, nobody would hear them, nobody would disturb. He took off her coat and laid it on the floor, so they had something to lie on without any evidence they had done something dirty. She moved onto her back and watched the few stars shining in the sky. He ran his hands over her leg and she let him. He shifted over her and planted a wet, uncomfortable kiss on her lips, laughing as she pushed him off, she rubbed her mouth and licked off the bitter taste, lightly shrugging it off. He kneeled above her and swung one leg over to her other side, locking her inbetween them. She pushed him away but he held her wrists, hard. She told him to stop but he ignored, and continued attempting to force his tongue into her mouth. Her heart raced faster as she struggled to break free, he pushed her wrists into the ground beside her, leaving her paralyzed in shock. She started calling for help, but nobody was around to hear, he momentarily let her arms go as he ripped off her buttons. She hit him as hard as she could, in every direction, but one hard pound of his fist was enough to keep her still. He tore off her blouse and started moving down to her skirt, tears started collecting in the basin of her eyes. He yanked her skirt above her waist, and ripped through her satin knickers. She kicked as hard as she could, but another blow to her face sent her nose gushing crimson blood, and silenced her once more. She started crying for her family, for her God, for anybody who was passing by. She begged him not to do it, but with one hard shove, he was inside her, sending a ripple of pain through her core. Her cries softened into whispers, but she did not stop asking for help. He thrusted inside of her, as she lay still, unspeaking, unmoving. He finished with her and lay beside her ruined body, she was there physically, but her mind and soul was somewhere else, sitting on the stars until they dimmed out, asking what she did to deserve this.

Hippies Song.

We'll bang the beats on our guitars and never comb our hair.

We'll hitchike to get to where we need to be, and we wont give it a second thought,

We'll become best friends with strangers, and braid flowers into bracelets.

We'll make daisy chains and loose braids, skinny dogs and bonfires.

We'll tell stories of our histories, laugh and sing into the night air.

Holy Water

I read an amazing piece of truth at this certain blog I've been following. I recommend you check it, it's stellar.


The wet tiles on the walls and floor feel like they're supporting my weight. One missing surface and my shivering frame would come crashing into a never-ending darkness. The shower head continues to spray cold needles of water, soaking my hair and clothes, washing away my sin. The thick fabric of my shirt sticks to my chest and heaves along with it as I breathe in and out. My hair, clamped together like dreadlocks submerged underwater. My tears disguised with the water tracks running down my face, one of the reasons I choose to cry in the shower: You can make yourself believe that you aren't. No salty streaks, no hot-headedness. Just the cool water gliding over you until you find the strength the stand back up.
I clutch my arms around my knees and bury my head into them. What would it be today? The balcony, the many pills lying around, the rope, or possibly one of the sharp knives in the kitchen?
Would I have the strength? No, not physically. But mentally, I can twist and turn, run down any dark alley I want. I have been doing it for days. Conjuring some sick ideas to cut my thread and let me fall into hell. I am alone. I am wandering along a dark hallway, looking for a light that's nowhere to be found. Looking for a hand that will be able to pull me out of this depression, but not finding anything.

Chapter 12: Love in the Summer

Leo and Stephanie lay in the grass talking about their lives and everyone in it. They knew they had a deep connection as he showed her the forest cabin he was lending her. She made the dusty, old shack look like an exciting getaway, it was like she was a criminal that burned with passion, and he was the man tied between her and the law. Weeks passed and although it was soon, Leo knew their lives were entwined by the hands of fate. They were meant for each other. So somewhere between their sugary pet names and the endless amount of time they spent together, they fell in love. And shortly after, they were married.

Leo led Stephanie through the castle walls, her eyes looked around in wonder. Her mouth was fixated on the word "Wow" in the ballroom, she squealed with delight in the throne room, and nearly wet herself out of excitement in the Royal Treasury.

Leo took her to their sleeping chamber, and placed a blindfold in her hands.

"You must always wear this at night, Stephanie. Never take it off as long as the sun is down. That is all I ask of you,"

Unfazed by the simple task, Stephanie accepted the blindfold, and during her first few weeks in the castle, she was an obedient wife. She was often tempted to take a peek, but she always managed o stop herself. Life was good, better than it had ever been. Here, away from Victoria. She never had to worry again.

Or so she thought.

Tonight, we'll shine like newly polished dimes.

I'm going to a Fashion Show tonight for Philippine Fashion Week! Selina sent me a text message this morning asking if I was free, and I had to convince my mom who, at first, didn't want to let me go because SHE wanted to go and Sely didn't have an extra ticket for her.

BUT I'M ALLOWED TO NOW! As long as it isn't raining when that happens. Shit, I have to find something to wear!