Little Miss Lost

New Moon
Starring: Robert Pattinson, Kristen Stewart and HALFNAKEDMEN
The Angel Rating: HALFNAKEDMEN... okay I'll try to stop.



The first time (and last time) I set my hands on a Twilight book was when Daniela Hoag raved about Edward Cullen. "The perfect boyfriend," she called him. But it wasn’t for me. As much as I love Anne Rice vampires (now, *there’s* romance) and other kick-ass vampire comics and movies like "Blade" and "From Dusk ‘Til Dawn", sparkling vampires just doesn’t seem to do it for me. Maybe it’s because they’re in high school. Maybe because the cast kinda sucks. Or maybe it’s... I dunno... because they SPARKLE?!?? I’m not quite sure. But no, thank you. Still, I love to watch movies and like every other avid movie goer out there, I went to watch "New Moon". I saw the crazy queues for the movie. I sat in a crappy full-theater seat (I have *not* seen a theater that packed since "Sex and the City" with my girls). And I sat through it.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t as boring as the first one. And surprisingly, there are some things to rave about this time around. Since there are more things to rant about, though, let’s start with those raves:

1. The soundtrack, as usual.

2. There were some cool werewolves this time - CGI FTW!!!

and

3. Those werewolves HALFNAKEDMEN, when human HALFNAKEDMEN, spend the entire HALFNAKEDMEN movie HALF-NAKED!!! Chyeah. Okay, okay. I'll really stop this time And btw, I lied. Half of them are boys. But being pregnant to a girl and extremely hormonal, it’s perfectly okay for me to stare at *them*, too. Don’t judge.

Now the rants (I’ll try to keep them in chronological order):

1. Edward Cullen appears on-screen in all his white-facedness and red-lippedness. The *entire* theater goes berserk. I have no popcorn to throw at the screen. Or eyeplugs to wear. Bummer. Seriously. *What* is the deal with Robert Pattinson? He’s not even hot. Give me some Chace Crawford and *maybe* I’ll understand what is up. But seriously? Nuh-uh.

2. Oh, look, it’s Bella’s birthday. She’s 18 now. "I’m Bella. Let’s spend half of the movie obsessing about how old I’m getting coz I’m gonna keep getting older while my boyfriend stays young for life?" Who cares if he likes to suck the blood out of people and that he’s – I don’t know – a vampire?

3. "I’m Bella. Let’s spend the other half of the movie about me obsessing about my ex and being emo and obsessively e-mailing my ex’s sister coz he won’t talk to me. And while we’re at it, I’ll have crazy nightmares, have a weird fetish for adrenaline and flirt with the younger guy with the ugly long hair who just so happens to be a werewolf." Monster fetish much?

4. "I’m Bella. I changed my mind. Let’s not be interested in werewolf boy until I bleed and he takes off – nay, forcefully pulls off – his shirt to dab on my wound to show off his amazingly muscular abs and I realize how ripped he is. And when he does, I’m going to say ‘you’re beautiful’." Coz that’s totally what 18-year-old girls do.

5. The next time we see were-boy, he’s chopped off all of his hair and he’s half-naked. And STANDING IN THE RAIN. And let's make him a lil angry and pissed off, to boot. In fact, let's make him spend the entire movie half-naked. Not that I’m complaining or anything… but WHY??? What was the point?

6. Nothing much happens story-wise or character-wise or funny-wise after that and I get bored until an action-packed werewolf bit and another semi-action-packed Volturi bit. Is that Dakota Fanning? Again… WHY???

7. Oh, before that Dakota Fanning bit, there’s more sparkly vampire scenes. But this time Edward’s shirt is off so you see him in *all* of his sparkly, skinny, and disgusting "splendor". Note to Director: you cannot take off a skinny white boy’s shirt after filling the movie with tanned and muscular were-men and were-boys. It makes "the perfect Edward Cullen" look less perfect. Although, if she’s on "Team Jacob", it’s understandable why she did that. And the movie posters are *of* Edward with his shirt open. I reckon they’d sell even more tickets if they had the werewolf pack in front. Cater to all the sex-crazed lil girlies (and boylies) out there, you know.

8. While we’re on the topic of Team Jacob… Bella feels like she can’t date Jacob coz he’s like 16 and she’s 18, but she’s dating a 109-year-old vampire? So… dating younger boys is bad but D.O.M. (Dirty Old Men) dating girls who are decades younger is okay? Unfair.

9. Now, the ending. The ending is a killer. Good job, director. All the girls squealed again. Squealing is annoying if there’s nothing to squeal about. Honestly. But hey, now all those squealers are gonna buy the rest of the Twilight books and obsessively wait for the next Twilight movies. Just coz of that ending. Well played, well played.

10. What happened to that red-headed chick who was after Bella? Was it just me or was she in the water when Bella cliff-dived? Where'd she vanish off to? And why has no one mentioned her again? And again, I'm not complaining, but there should be more to the movie than just half-nakedness. What's sad is I'm probably the only one who noticed that she just vanished from the movie...

Surrogates
Starring: Bruce Willis and Ving Rhames
The Angel Rating: 4 stars out of 5



Is it me or have recent movies been so bad lately that coming across a movie starring Bruce Willis - with hair! - actually gets a good rating in my eyes? (I don't know where that comment came from since Bruce Willis actually makes good movies. I'm just bitter at Hollywood for not releasing anything good in a while.)

Anyway, as mentioned earlier, this movie is actually pretty good. If you liked Equilibrium, you'll probably like this movie, even though it doesn't have the great acting prowess of Christian Bale and isn't laced with beautiful poetry by W.B. Yeats.

The reason why this movie is so likable, I believe, is because deep inside, we know this could happen. Unlike Equilibrium, where the entire society injects themselves with something so as to be void of emotions (waitttt... why would you not want to feel anything ever again?), Surrogates involves getting to live your life through surrogate robots that look extremely hot while staying safely at home and not having to worry about dying or getting robbed or getting raped or anything like that. And, well, with technology escalating the way it is, we know this could happen. Did I mention that you can be a fat, balding gay guy and live your life vicariously through a hot blonde lady surrogate, so you can get with hot male surrogates? Chyeah.

Now, in theory, this sounds great. But what happens when suddenly everybody can afford these surrogates and therefore has one and everybody starts relying on them so much, they forget to actually *live*? Again, we know this could happen. As people get addicted to drugs, it is also possible to get addicted to surrogacy. And well, that's no good.

Now, see, I think it would be great if *some* people had surrogates. Like, if they get disfigured because of an accident or can't walk or to fight wars or to have gigolos like in A.I. or just for fun, every once in a while like in a virtual reality game. But all day every day? Anyway, this movie delves into all that and I thought it was pretty cool. You should look into it and then definitely read below my spoilers line, so we can argue. Arguing rocks my world.




***** SPOILERS : DO NOT READ BELOW THIS LINE IF YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE MOVIE (unless you don't mind spoiling it, then that's fine) *****




At the end of the movie, Canter wants to kill all of the humans still plugged into their surrogates because, as he puts it, "addicts must die with the addiction" and "the world should witness the rebirth of humanity". This makes perfect sense to me. Why did Bruce Willis stop him? Those people deserved to die! Am I wrong? By just killing the surrogates, Bruce Willis didn't really achieve anything. You know what's going to happen? Humans will simply figure out how to make new surrogates - and better ones, at that. Congratulations. You made things worse. If he had only let Canter do his job, people would have been killed and the people who remained living wouldn't dare make new surrogates because they'd be scared of the possible repercussions, i.e. death. Am I the only one who sees sense in this? What did Bruce Willis actually achieve?

So, Barney Stinson says that the gremlin rules are also applicable to girls and that these would be what distinguishes a real girlfriend from a non-girlfriend.

1. Never get them wet.
Translation: Don't let her take a shower at your place.

2. Keep them away from sunlight.
Translation: Don't ever see them during the day.

3. Never feed them after midnight.
Translation: She doesn't sleep over and you don't have breakfast with her. Ever.

Now... I've always had difficulties telling the difference between someone I was just casually seeing and someone who was an actual boyfriend and I never, ever had the talk with *any* guy ...ever. Because of this, I have decided to dwell on these gremlin rules to figure out which of the guys I've seen in my lifetime were actual boyfriends. And, well, after giving it a lot of thought, I have come to realize that my only boyfriends, then, were Charles and Henry.

[...Really? I suddenly feel like such a... Barney.]

Also, according to these rules... does that mean that Catherine and Cara were my girlfriends? Or does this only apply to people you were attracted to or have slept with? And what about the guys I dated in my earlier years of high school when I was too young to shower at their places or have them shower at mine? Do they not count, then? At what age do relationships start to count, then? And why has this suddenly become too complicated to think about?

When we wake up in the morning, we have two simple choices: go back to sleep and dream, or wake up and chase those dreams.
The choice is yours.

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I am thinking of you as I write this.
I think of you more often than I should.
It's just that true best friends don't come around for me very often and having lost you because of a kiss that probably meant less than it felt like is a bit stupid.

I miss you.

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Heard your broken voice on the telephone.
Made my heavy heart sink like a stone.
And after all this time, I should've known you'd let me down - right down to the bone.
You know, you're right: I'm incomplete and I could never write down what I mean.
And if you told me that the world was ending tonight, that's alright by me.

Hey, babe, I feel as though I failed you.
I feel as though you don't want me.
I keep kickin' myself.
And lately, when I sleep alone, I feel that I oughta learn you don't need me... just stop kidding myself.

Thought of the day: clubs should be off-limits to non-smokers and non-drinkers.

For the first time in my life, I spent an entirely sober night clubbing at RCA. I quit smoking and drinking for obvious reasons 7 weeks ago, and let's just say: it was a whole new world. Things looked entirely different in the eyes of an entirely sober person than they did in my old party animal eyes:

-> Woo girls - of which I used to be one - are actually downright annoying. What are they so happy about? Do you even *know* the song that is playing? And, if you do, why can't you seem to get into the rhythm of the beat as you flail your arms around like a drunken monkey? What's even worse than the woo girls who scream 'wooooo!' are the woo girls who actually have boyfriends and still try to woo guys. Except, at Overdoze, they can't use the whole "I wanted him to buy me a drink" excuse since it's open bar all night, so what excuse do you have, besides being a whore? Now, it's fine, if you admit to me that you're horny or your boyfriend is in another country or you're having trouble with your guy or all of the above. But don't go acting all "I don't know what you're talking about" when, really, you're just a flirty slut.

-> Guys, in the dark and with beer-goggled eyes, are always cute. They don't even have to dance well. As long as he has lips to kiss and a body to grind with, everything's fine and dandy - screw his age, his relationship status and the state of his clothes or hair. Unfortunately, the truth is: the cute guys in Bangkok - screwing their age, relationship status, clothes and hair - can be counted on the fingers of one hand. You can even chop off a few.

-> The lights and the music of 808... ouch. How did I ever used to survive that place without walking out every five minutes to get my sight and eardrums back? Now, I can't even do *that* because the minute I walk out, I'm surrounded by a cloud of smoke from the smokers who stepped outside for a smoke. Solution: ear plugs and sunglasses. The sunglasses were surprisingly easy to find. The ear plugs? Not-so-easy. And you can't *talk* in places like 808. You have to *scream* just to say things like "I love this song." or "Where's <insert-name-here>?" or"WHAT?", which seemed to be the question I asked for most of the night.

-> Couples who grind on dancefloors like they're having sex, but with clothes on, are actually utterly disgusting, yet in that OMG-car-crash-OMG-people-a

I hate my life. That's just me. I live by the "motto" FML more than anyone else I know (except maybe Kays) and right now, I hate that insomnia has hit me yet again and even when I *do* want to sleep, I can't.

All my life, I've been a on-my-tummy or on-my-back sleeper. Unfortunately, I currently can't sleep on my tummy or on my back and my current life comes with crazy abdominal cramps and backaches that can only be alleviated if I sleep on my side... which is something I'm just not used to. But seriously. Who (voluntarily) sleeps on their side? Name one person who is comfortable sleeping on his/her side (Mike doesn't count - he's an alien) without being a spoon - little or big. And even *then*, you have to switch from little spoon to big spoon and back again every now and then because sleeping sideways just isn't comfortable, especially if you have nothing to wrap your legs around.

I need a bed that has huge holes, like those massage chairs, but with one for my face and one for my tummy. Or maybe I just need a hotdog pillow. Unfortunately, it would be pointless to get one now since I'm leaving in a few days. I should've stolen Paul's hotdog pillow before he left. If I recall properly, hugging that thing put me to sleep *and* turned me into a spoon. <3

I miss when life was simple.

So... I'm in love with a heartless prick who's still in love with his ex and just can't seem to get over her. And, well, I've mentioned that he keeps breaking my heart but he doesn't give a shit. Did I mention he knocked me up and doesn't want the baby "right now"?
Congratulations, Angel. You've really outdone yourself this time.

I wish it could be as easy for me as it is for Jane/Alice in Closer... "I don't love you anymore. Goodbye."

But nooo... I have to be complicated, naturally. I have to follow the masochistic yellow brick road to hell every single fucking time and keep coming back to the heartache because I somehow believe that people can change.

Well, people might change. But heartless pricks sure don't.

Seriously... how hard is it to find someone who'll just love *you*?

People tell of a noble breed of horses that instinctively bite open a vein when they are exhausted and feverish, in order to breathe more freely.

I often feel the same, and am tempted to open a vein and so find eternal freedom.

Maybe my doctor is right. Maybe I am depressed. All I know is that I've never felt the urge to die like this before.

I am in love.
The sky is bluer.
Mozart moves me to tears.
All that good stuff.

"But can this love last?" I wonder.

Aside from all the other blatant reasons - commitment, shared interests, physical attraction - there is definitely more. We have fun. Spontaneous good times. Sometimes, while in the shower, Henry will playfully cover my mouth with soap or, while in bed, he'll tickle me until I can't breathe: these lead to all-out wars. Sometimes, we head to the arcade and race each other on Mario Kart. Even blowing out candles can be a blast. We enjoy simply being together.

And there are surprises.

One time, after spending the day in bed due to feeling sick, I walked out to find the place filled with candles and dinner waiting on the table. Sometimes I leave him notes and letters in his laptop, whether he expects them or not.

There is sharing.

Not only do we share our worries (after much poking and prodding) and financial burdens, we also share pizza toppings and ideas. One day, Henry introduced me to the movie "The Fountain". He touched my heart when he explained it was because he wanted to exchange ideas about the movie, after I've seen it. We'll be doing this with every movie that matters now.

There is forgiveness.

When I'm embarrassingly drunk after a night out or crazily paranoid about something in his past and end up freaking out, Henry forgives me. When he spent all his money to make me happy and needed a loan for his new internet bill, I gave him a virtual hug and told him not to worry about it. He pointed out that happiness should always be more important than money. [That quote may be irrelevant, but I want to remind myself that he said this.]

There is faith.

Recently, a friend approached me and confessed her fear that she might lose her boyfriend to his ex when he sees her again. Recently, friends of mine who had been together for a year and a half broke up because they were convinced long distance would never work. Recently, a friend of mine came to me, confessing his love for another friend, and how he knew he could never have her. Recently, another friend told me that she had given up looking for a decent guy. Too many heartaches and heart worries for a month.

Despite everybody elses' relationships falling apart around us, though, Henry and I hold strong. We keep going. We know we'll work.

Finally, there is knowing.

I know that Henry, like me, will throw his clothes or empty food boxes on the floor and not bother to pick them up for days on end. He'll be late for work and will spill his chocolate drink at restaurants every once in a while. He knows that I have trouble sleeping and that I think far too much. I'll stress about the smallest things and complain when things don't go my way. I also know that he snores every night. :)

I guess our love could last because it's... comfortable. The sky may not always be bluer like it is in my eyes today, but it will at least always be a familiar hue. But we are still young and have yet to experience more things that will contribute to our growth and wisdom, take its toll on our bodies, and create our memories. However, I am completely convinced that we've got what it takes to make our love last.

Before I left the Philippines to come back to Bangkok, Henry gave me a ring engraved with Jack Campbell's line,

"I choose us."

I keep this in mind every day.

There are some people who meet that somebody they can never stop loving, no matter how hard they try. I wouldn't expect you to understand that, or believe it, but I believe that there is a love that never goes away. Maybe I'm crazy for believing it, but I'd like to think that we can all be blessed to end up with somebody who has a little of that kind of insanity.
Somebody who never lets go.
Somebody who will cherish you... forever.

I see fireflies. Showers of colored fireflies. Fireflies flitting from one wall to the next. Fireflies all over the air. And the whole world is turning into a firefly. And there are no longer any problems or any paranoia: everything fits together now and works together, to achieve something - some goal in our near and distant future.

Beyond the giant firefly of a world, I see a doorway. I have been seeing this doorway for a while now - inside my apartment, outdoors when I take a walk in the park, or while a friend is driving. And it is always of the same proportions, very narrow. It looks very... pleasing. That's the word. Pleasing. I have never tried to go through it, though; I somehow enjoy just looking at it, because it is so pleasing. Outlined in vivid golden light. As if the fireflies had collected into lines.

On the other side of this doorway lies another world. I can see it clearly, yet I never thought of going through it. I just like to admire the doorway and what it represents to me. But now I'm scared. Scared that one day, I won't be able to see it at all, that it will be too late. What if there is a time limit to how long this door is open for me? What if it closes one day? And then... gone... forever...

 

On the other side of this doorway, it's always nighttime. There is moonlight and water, always the same. Nothing moves or changes. Black water, like ink, and a shore, a beach of an island. I am sure it is paradise, my paradise. A doorway to the next world. To another place in time, and I can see into the future.

Then I come back to reality and I get madder than ever. I can no longer stand the motion and noise of my world today, every thought going this way and that, all the clanking and banging in my head.

I need to go to the other side of the doorway, to the island, my island. The island is a promise. A promise of something to come. Something better some time in the future. I know that day will come. It may take a thousand years, or longer than that, but it will come, and everything will be set right. Maybe inside the terribly burned and still burning circuits in my head that char more and more, even as I think of you holding me, a firefly of color and light in some disguised form will manifest itself, unrecognized, to lead me, by its memory, through the years to come. A thing not fully understood, some small thing seen but not understood; some fragment of a star mixed with the trash of my world, to guide me by reflex until that day.

All I can do now is hope.

For there is a curse on my world today, and all of our problems prove it; in fact, I am the proof, right here. Somewhere, at the deepest level possible, the mechanism, the construction of our relationship fell apart recently, and up from what remained swam the need to do all the various sort of unclear wrongs the world could think up to make me act out. I don't care how it started anymore, when or why. I just know that it's over now.

I am convinced that one day the shower of brightly colored fireflies will return, and this time we'll both see it. The narrow doorway where there's peace on the far side. An island, the sea, and what looks like moonlight. And nothing stirring, nothing to break the calm. Our Golden Age. After all these shattered and cutting fragments have been picked up. After all these broken bits that don't seem to fit right now and can't seem to be put back together, as hard as I try, are fixed.  We will work. We'll be our own kind of perfect.

I've been having several talks with one of my bestest friends recently, mostly regarding relationships. See, we both currently find ourselves in relationships with guys who have come with 4-year-old pasts that we obsess over and get paranoid over and can't seem to let go. And the fact that we can't seem to let those pasts go makes us worry that our guys can't let them go, either. Yes, it's a confusing girl thing. And it's frustrating. And annoying. And I've literally been ripping my hair out trying to tell myself that everything will be okay. Unfortunately, my bestest friend deals with it differently. She feeds on her obsession and channels it into a useful anger that fuels a kind of passion that just... she's fine. In fact, she's more than fine. She's hysterically fine. And I'm not. Let's leave it at that.

I keep trying to figure out if there are other relationships like mine where the girl ends up like me: feeling so bad, she wants to drown her sorrows in alcohol - slash - smoke up until she passes out - slash - binge on chocolate - slash - her wrists. And if there are, how many of them hope against hope that there is no such thing as "the perfect couple"? And if there is, why isn't she in it?

And tonight, while on Facebook, it hit me. Zach and Faye are The Perfect Couple. Now, you probably rolled your eyes when I said the perfect couple exists, but it's true. Maybe not perfect in the actual sense of perfect but perfect in the way that I deem perfection to be. Like, you know how Ted always tells Marshall that he wants what Marshall and Lily have? Well, I want what Zach and Faye have. Maybe it helps that none of them come with a complicated past. Maybe it helps that none of them have long-term exes to get jealous about or pointless memories to dwell on. Maybe it helps that they are so in love with each other, everything else simply takes a backseat.

(Now don't think I'm a Facebook stalker after reading the next few bits; Facebook is actually now designed to do the stalking for you now...)

Throughout the two and a half years that they have been together, I have seen their profile pictures range from sweet to goofy to matching-each-other's-profile-pictures. I have seen them write wall posts to each other while they were sitting next to each other, while one of them was sick, and while one of them was away on summer vacation. And everything's just perfect. Fine and dandy. And while I used to believe - or tell myself to make myself feel better, rather - that arguments and fighting are all part of a relationship and help it grow... Zach and Faye have proven the exact opposite to be true. They have never had a single fight in the two and a half years that they've been together and everything is still as awesome for them as it was before the first kiss/date/sack session/whatever. (And I only met Faye four months ago, so trust me: if there was anything, Zach would've told me about it.) Faye is now in America and Zach is still in Thailand. Although they fought terribly to go to university together (and it was amazing how everybody we knew tried to help and make it happen - make them happen - by donating money, starting causes and pulling strings for scholarships), it still didn't work out in the end. But still: they stay strong. Every now and then, they get to chat online and call each other. But every day, Faye posts a video of herself singing a song that she heard that day that reminds her of Zach. Every day, she photoshops a funny picture of herself and posts it on Zach's wall that makes his day. Every day, they write each other novels - and not in the form of inbox msgs, but on their wall-to-walls, so the world can see them professing their cheesy and dorky love to each other. And every day, Zach writes her an e-mail. In the middle of the night, he types out a novel of an e-mail to his future wife. And everything is as it should be.

I will look back at this blog post a few years from now, print it out and bring it to their wedding. Because they are going to spend the rest of their lives together. Trust me. I have never been this sure of something since Nadal's victory in Wimbledon last year - and I had that spot-on! I'm so sure about it, in fact, I am convinced that not even this blog post can jinx it. And if they end up breaking up because she joins a sorority or something, I swear my belief in love will break along with them. And that will be the end of everything I ever believed in. So, here's to Zach and Faye - the perfect couple. *toasts* Yes, that's them in the picture below.

I was originally going to write this blog entry before inspiration struck and I wrote the other one. So, while that goes on my Facebook and everywhere else, this one shall be reserved for LJ only. (Feel special.)

My phone is out of credit. And it was out of credit when I got home yesterday. This, naturally, made me panic. Sensing a massive hangover coming on from the amounts of alcohol consumed without prior eating and knowing what an extremely horrible habit I have of continuously pressing that built-in snooze button on alarm clocks (one of the many banes in my life), I knew there was no way I was getting up at 8 for work. It was 4 in the morning.

Normally, I’d get someone to call me and be my personal alarm clock. Alas, without credit, it was quite impossible for me to contact anyone I was sure would get the message on time. I didn’t even bother setting an alarm. As I lay me down to sleep, I prayed the Lord my soul to keep… and for him to send my personal alarm clock a sign or ten to wake me in the a.m. “Please, Lord, make me be the first thing he thinks about when he wakes up and please make him realize I need an alarm clock today,” I prayed. I passed out instantly.

At around 7, my phone started ringing frantically and I smiled. I smiled because I knew God had listened to my prayers. I smiled because I knew He had sent me an angel, as I had needed Him to. I smiled because He had… wait… this wasn’t my usual personal alarm clock calling.
“Hello?” I half-mumbled.
“Hello, lovely! Time for work! Wakey, wakey!”
I giggled. “What time is it?”
”Well, what time do you usually get up for work?”
“8-ish?” I was unsure by this point.
“Oh. I’m sorry for waking you up so early, then! You can go back to bed.”
I check the time. It is 7.03. I am utterly and completely relieved and happy. I smile. I hear cars whizzing by on the other line. “Are you still in Khao San?” I ask, bewildered.
“ehehehe. Yer.”
He tells me about his night and his escapades involving him getting into several fights, getting thrown out of several pubs, and getting offered a blowjob (and him turning it down, don’t worry). He is extremely passionate about everything he’s telling me and I find his adrenaline and passion unnervingly sexy. His voice is so animated on the phone, I can almost imagine him making gestures as he’s telling me his stories and I can feel his energy almost seep through the phone and into my own body. I am laughing. And I am wide awake. Best. Wake-up call. Ever.
“I need to go back to that other pub now. My friend forgot something there. Hope I don’t get slapped. Wish me luck. I’ll talk to you later.”
I smiled because I know that we will. I smiled because he always means what he says. I smiled because he always pulls through on his word. I smiled because he always makes me smile and keeps that smile there.

There’s something else I forgot to mention. When I got home, the first thing I did was check my Facebook because somebody promised there would be something waiting there when I got back home. I had nothing waiting from that person. But I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and re-checked my Facebook when I got to work. Still nothing from him, as promised and as, truth be told, expected. But there it was: a bright and shiny inbox message from the guy who gave me the wake-up call today. And my day was truly made.

( You are about to view content that may only be appropriate for adults. )

Let me make things clear: I can normally hold my alcohol. In fact, I have always been proud of the fact that I have only thrown up from drinking once. August 2007. Marlon. Me. And a bottle of rum. I remember reaching the airport to fly to Boracay from Manila, begging people for chocolate milk to make me feel better, being ignored, running to the bathrooms and throwing up. It was the worst feeling in the world. Because I don't usually throw up, in general. And I told myself it would never happen again.

This morning, at 9, I found myself waking up (thankfully alone!), freezing to death (AC was *not* turned on!) and running to the bathroom to sit on the floor, hug my toilet seat (thank God I cleaned my apartment yesterday!), bury my head in it and throw up. All from last night's drinking excursion.

I don't remember much of last night. In fact, I am still in such a daze right now. For example, I have no idea why cigarettes now taste like ass and I have decided to quit. Just like that. And I have no idea why I have birth control pills in my bag because 1) I don't "believe" in birth control pills and 2) I don't know anyone who uses them or would use them. I also have no idea where this bump on my noggin came from or why all the contents of my bag were smothered in chocolate. I also have no idea why I had around Bt900 stuffed in my bra when I woke up this morning. 0=s

The conversations with Aaron and Czarina (including their lame Jewish jokes 0:p) are still clear as day. But at some point, things turn fuzzy. It was definitely after that glass of wine that Czarina left on the stairs and we stole. Things from then on are just... gone.

When I try really, really hard, I can see flashes of the night. Like that lil bitch of a kid at Londoner's. I remember her. But I don't know why I remember her as "that lil bitch of a kid". Then there's the car ride to Khao San that I sort of remember. But I don't remember how we all fit in Mike's car. I swear there's not *that* much space in there. And I remember losing a pack of cigarettes but begging some random stranger for some and him buying me a pack (SCORE! But now it's going to go unsmoked coz I quit.). And I remember a certain someone making out with a certain someone AHAHAHAHAHA but mostly coz she told me about it when she called today. But yeah. That's as far as my memory takes me.

I wish I had brought KissKiss, so I'd have pictures to help me remember. Unfortunately, last night is just gonna go down in history as a fucking crazy drunken night that may or may not have happened.

And oh, "Angels" by Robbie Williams keeps playing in my head.

So I'm still half-drunk and half-asleep.
I got home at 2, passed out, woke up at 5 dehydrated as fuck, and ended up knocking on some random person's door to beg for water.
I am feeling a bit better. But I am also feeling very sad.

This past week has been a roller coaster ride of emotions. A roller coaster with a huge downward stomach-churning dip, several teeny tiny loops and a lot of bigger loops. Loops make me happy. 0:)

I've never been one to re-visit the past or beg for closure, but this past week made me realize how incredibly nice doing both actually is. I have this weird rule, where I refrain from being friends with exes or past flings because I'm afraid that 1) the feelings will tend to linger unnecessarily, 2) there will always be sexual tension and 3) it's going to be jumping off the same cliff of suicide twice. That was so not the case this week. At least, not on *all* accounts. 0;p

It's amazing how much seven months can change two people and their perspective of things. When I decided to meet up with him, the last thing I was hoping for was an apology and that was what I got. That, good coffee, and a semi-ass-whooping at Burnout. It was good, though. It was nice to just *talk*, for a change. I don't think talking was something that we did during the summer. It was nice talking about our current love interests, our families, where we see ourselves in the future. It was nice sitting on our stairs and not wanting to part ways while we sipped on coffee and Red Bull. It was even nicer to realize that my phone did not stop beeping for a good few days after that with thoughtful and unexpected messages from him. I especially like how he remembered the lil things that we shared, like our love for photography, coffee, South Park, dancing, How I Met Your Mother, booze and Bowie.

The real trip down memory lane happened when he showed up in that army shirt, though. Damn that shirt and all the memories that came with it. And then, one night, we ended up in front of that 7-11 where he first "professed his love" to me 0:p and at that same place, he went inside to buy that disgusting Oishi black tea for himself and a baby Kit Kat for me as I waited outside with a cig, almost like old times. Then there was the trip into his soi and I thought about all the times I got lost in there. And oh, that gate! "Remember this place?" he asked. And I grinned. I grinned a very huge grin. And then there were the dogs - they still remembered me. 0:) And as I took off my shoes at that oh-so-familiar shoe rack, I remember thinking, "I thought I would never, ever see this place again." I walked around, taking everything in and doing everything I used to do, just for the sake of doing it. I sat on the kitchen counter like a lil Indian. I dominated one of the couches in the room with the computers. I snuggled up into the fluffy pillows of the TV couch. I marveled at that one painting and giggled at that other one. And when we reached the top of the stairs, I stopped dead in my tracks staring into that room we spent the summer in.

Thankfully, we were headed to the lil brother's room - which is, by the way, totally unfair for him to have coz it's massive! As I lay on lil bro's bed while someone was taking care of the soup, I giggled. Because, although I had never been in there, someone I know had had escapades in there involving whipped cream, which I helped make happen. 0;p It was an interesting thought, which lingered, until I felt the need to head to the bathroom where I used to stumble into lil bro in the mornings. And then Infected Mushroom and David Bowie joined us as we drifted off into the land of hugs, cowboys, and sausage pillows.

And now it's all gone. Again. In an instant. And it's funny how it ended right where everything started. In that London room. With the same kids, but a lil older. With our song playing. (Because yes, we had a song.) And it's a shame that another seven months are going to have to go by before we can do this again. But I'm glad we did. And now I'm counting down the days until a certain someone else comes to visit, so that I can sort things out with *him* next...

Fast & Furious
Starring: Vin Diesel, Paul Walker, Jordana Brewster, and Michelle Rodriguez
The Angel Rating: 3 1/2 stars out of 5



What can I say? I was impressed.

Maybe I'm just a sucker for gorgeous cars, big manly arms, good music and non-stop action in movies and this movie happened to have all of that. But overall, I would recommend people to see this. Clearly, it's not for everyone (I know a lot of people who don't appreciate car racing scenes or scenes of violence or anything remotely action-y, for that matter), but it's definitely worth going to the cinemas for. Most of all if you're a guy.

Right from the start, there's non-stop action going down. There's Dom Toretto flexing his guns. There's kick-ass music blaring in the background. There are crazy car races that make you wanna go home right after the movie to play Burnout (which is exactly what I did lol). There's Dom Toretto flexing his guns. There are pretty girls. There are pretty girls kissing other pretty girls. There are pretty girls not wearing bras wearing white tops (an observation someone else *cough cough* made while we were watching, not me - I'm 100% hetero, thanks). There's Dom Toretto flexing his guns. There's insane kick-ass violence that made me scream "YAYUH!" one too many times... far too loud.... There are CARS. GORGEOUS cars. And there's wit (though admittedly quite corny in some points)!
Yeah. Definitely a guy's movie.

Even though I mentioned the Dom-and-his-guns thing quite a bit, it's still a guy's movie coz he never takes off his shirt. Not. Even. Once. Probably the sole disappointing thing about the movie (and something I must state because I am clearly still a girl, despite my love for this action-packed, non-chick-flick *ahem* film). That, and the Michelle Rodriguez thing. And how Fenix was gotten rid of. But I'm not allowed to give those tidbits away, so just watch it for yourself. 0;)

I was discussing sex with Tom about a week ago and I gave him the best piece of advice anyone could probably give anyone on the subject: Do not have sex (at least, not outside of a relationship = promiscuity = Alistair hahaha I’m kidding x). But yes, I believe that sex should be avoided as much as possible.

I mean, seriously: has your English reading list not taught you anything in high school?

Romeo + Juliet = sex = death

The Scarlet Letter = Hester Prynne + sex = outcast for life

Oedipus Rex + mother = motherfucker (though, granted, he didn’t know it at the beginning, but still) = extremely bothered by the thought = poked his eyes out… or something…

Correct me if I’m wrong but whenever boy + girl = sex, nothing ever turns out fine.

(Apologies. The following cases only apply to girls or bi-sexual guys.)

If new boyfriend had sex with Girl 1 = YEARS AGO, then: TODAY = Girl 1 is still a bitch = paranoid jealousy issues = uncool

If boy + girl = hot hot sex, then: every time you see the guy, all you can think is “chyeah. we had sex.” or “fuck. i wanna have sex with him again.” or “BACK OFF, BITCHES.” to anyone who even looks his way = obsessive streak = uncool

If boy + girl = casual dates = fun, then: fun = sex = boy loses interest coz he got what he wanted = uncool

OR

If boy + girl = casual dates = fun = sexual tension, then: sexual tension = sex = sex ends up sucking = uncool

Name me one mathematical sex equation that is plausible and true (nothing like boy + girl = sex = girl dies kinda thing) where sex has ended up with everything turning out fine where relationships do not play a part and I’ll stand corrected.

But… Until then, keep your snake in the cage. ;)
 

So, what are you supposed to do if your guts *and* your best friends tell you one thing while your heart and your significant other tell you another?

Do you follow your gut or do you follow your heart?

And how do you know if you’re making the right decision, anyway?
And if you are, will you feel better instantly or does it take time? Will you feel better at all or will you always be wondering if making the wrong decision would have made you happier?
And if you aren’t, does that make you an utter and complete idiot?

And how did Duncan Sheik come up with such a feel-good beat to a song about something like this?

“I know what you’re doing; I see it all too clear. I only taste the saline when I kiss away your tears. You really had me going… wishing on a star. But the black holes that surround you are heavier by far. I believed in your confusion. You were so completely torn. There’s not much to examine. There’s nothing left to hide. You *really* can’t be serious, if you have to ask me why I say goodbye. Coz I am barely breathing and I can’t find the air. I don’t know who I’m kidding, imagining you care. And I could stand here waiting – a fool for another day – but I don’t suppose it’s worth the price that I would pay. Everyone keeps asking, “What’s it all about?” I [thought I was] so certain [yet now] I can’t figure out. What is this attraction? I only feel the pain. There’s nothing left to reason and only you to blame. Will it ever change?!?? Coz I am barely breathing and I can’t find the air. I don’t know who I’m kidding, imagining you care. And I could stand here waiting – a fool for another day – but I don’t suppose it’s worth the price that I would pay. But I’m thinking it over anyway... I’ve come to find I may never know your changing mind – is it friend or foe? I rise above or sink below with every time you come and go. Please don’t come and go."

I wish I was a singer instead of a writer.
They touch so many more lives than we do.

Have you ever watched a movie and thought: "This is it. This is what my future is going to be like."? It doesn't matter what movie it is or what's happening in the movie or even if it's in black-and-white (because yes,I believe the future could be in black-and-white; I'm retro like that.) If you have, then you are exactly like me.

It's not stupid to think about the perfect kiss or even about the journey towards the perfect kiss. It's not stupid to believe that sustaining magic can be created. And no, it is not "warped movie logic". It's called romance, no matter how outdated the term may be in today's society. And no, it's not "just a kiss". The best kisses happen to be about creating the perfect moment. The best kisses are those that are planned - with the right music and the right lighting and the right dialogue. You can always storyboard a kiss into reality.

See, I believe that these movies that we watch aren't just false images that don't exist outside the city limits of Hollywood. I believe that they are images grounded in the reality of imagination. Everyone thinks that movies are fantasy, but they don't have to be.

Take Say Anything, for example. That moment with the boombox? You could easily be Lloyd Dobler. You can have that. You just have to create it.

If you are reading this and are raising your eyebrows and shaking your head and laughing a little bit at my idealistic views, then you're way too cynical and far too jaded for this blog post. It's attitudes like yours that prevent storybook romances from happening.

So maybe it's a bit offensive to buy the movie mentality that would have us believe that Brad Pitt or Jessica Alba are gonna magically drop from the sky and sweep us off our feet. Fine, that part of the movies may not be real. In fact, even the part of the movies where they don't kiss with their tongues may not be real. And, okay, fine, maybe romance doesn't usually come with a John Williams score. But hey, what did you think CD players / stereo / public speakers are for?!? And sure, it doesn't come with the perfect sunset all the time or the perfect starlit summer night, either. But sometimes it does, if the gods are on your side or if your timing is perfect.

Don't worry. I used to be bitter and cynical, too. Some people would say I was also far more interesting back then. But now... *wait for the cheesiness* ... I choose magic. 0:p

One day, you'll see. One day, you'll know what it's like to really long for someone, to truly desire them and want nothing but to kiss them all day every day. And then you're gonna contact me and say "Angel, you were right". You see, all you really have to do is believe.