Top 12 Girls I Would Love To Trade Faces With

12. Julia Stiles. She takes your breath away in the I-don’t-care-what-I'm-wearing-I’m-pretty-anyhow kind of way. Known for her roles in rom-coms “10 Things I Hate About You” and “The Prince and Me”.






11. Ziyi Zhang. I love her messy just-got-out-of-bed look. Also when she does all those stunts in her films looking all fierce and merciless.






10. Monica Bellucci. She’s hot and Italian. The way she walks down the street and all heads turn her way in “Malena” would make any girl give everything just to have her face and her body (and I don’t give a shit about perverts).









9. Kristen Stewart. Who cares if she’s totally snatched every girl’s dream away when she starred as Bella Swan alongside Robert Pattinson in “Twilight”? I think she’s still pretty, though. Her skin has that weird luminous quality in it.










8. Alexandra Daddario. I could do with a pair of mysterious, stormy gray eyes that would stare you down until you’d want to shrink the size of an ant.










7. Camilla Belle. Hers is a charm that's classic and timeless. A modern-day Jackie O. And why the hell does she look so ridiculously young in all her photos?








6. Hayley Williams. The Paramore frontwoman is a badass chic in her stunningly fiery red locks and her big booming voice. If anything, her trademark crooked teeth only added to her appeal. And the way she bangs her head like that? Heart-stopping.






5. Amanda Seyfried. She looks so heavenly in “Letters to Juliet” and I like the way she talks. I love her long blonde locks. I love the way she stares in those piercing green eyes. I love the way she seems to care less about locking lips with girls in the movies.







4. Natalie Portman. If personality is something you could wear, I’d gladly have a Natalie Portman ensemble. The best thing about looking all smart and classy is when you’re actually smart and classy. And in my opinion, no one could pull that stunt off better than Natalie Portman.






3. Shin Hye Park. This multi-talented Korean actress could melt your heart with those innocent, blameless eyes. She would dress like a man for all she cares and the world would still fall on her feet and beg for her mercy.










2. Dianna Agron. Blonde hair, hazel eyes, beautiful toned arms, and a voice that kicks ass. She bitches everyone around in the hit TV series “Glee” but everybody would still love her. I wouldn’t mind being bitched around by a Dianna Agron, means I’m bitch-worthy alright.










1. Zooey Deschanel. I would trade everything I have for those stunning blue eyes, classic hair-do and vintage dresses. I swear this The Smiths-singing enchantress would deprive you of sleep once you decide to watch “500 Days Of Summer”. There’s absolutely nothing to dislike about Zooey. The way she speaks, her mischievous smile, that dreamy look etched on her face…Oh what I wouldn’t give to be Zooey Deschanel for a day.

Attract and Repel

Proof that some girls could be just as self-absorbed and egocentric as most guys: When someone comes up to one of them and asks her “What’s your ideal guy like?” she’ll most probably go “My ideal man would have to dig the same music as I do.” The other might say something like “He’d definitely have to love Italian food.” Or “He should love Orlando Bloom as much as I do!” Crazy. By “ideal man” we simply mean the type of guy whom you think would make a great partner. Or the kind of guy you’d want to end up in bed with. Or the perfect guy who’d fill in the empty spaces in your life. We’re not asking about what you see in the mirror.

Of course, girls want to be understood. She’d want a guy who can get along well with her folks, who could appreciate the way she dresses, who could put up with all her crazy habits. And there’s no way he could endure if he isn’t anything like her at all. Yep, it might work for some, but in my case, it just did NOT. I learned the hard way that I can never be my ideal partner. Admittedly, I used to be one of those girls who, when asked about what my ideal guy is, would immediately think about myself first—that this guy, whoever he might be, should be totally like me in all aspects: character, tastes in music, fashion, food, books (that is if he actually reads), films, etc. I might even be lucky to find a guy who shares the same opinions as I do. It’s like finding your “mirror twin”.

I did found them once, three guys who were my mirror twins. It was crazy at first. I got all consumed by the thrill of having f*ckloads of things to do and talk about. My days passed by in a flurry of late-night phone conversations, supposed intellectual discussions over beer and pizza, heavy foot traffic in book fairs, jamming sessions, walkathons, and a lot of talking and talking. For a while, it was all I had going. But in the end, all they ever proved to be were flash-in-the-pan romances. None of them actually lasted. Why? Because at some point, we just got tired of the sameness, the monotony, the lack of variety. It just got a little too boring. When all we could talk about are the books we like, the food we like, the TV shows we like, you’d start to ask yourself, when can I ever step out of my world and explore the others? When will I discover new things and eventually grow up?

Now I say this whole thing about compatibility is crap. After meeting him, of course. He was nothing like me. We did come from the same school, took up the same course in college, we’re both the eldest in the family, and pretty much share the same disposition. But none of my interests matched his. He’s outgoing and fun-loving, I’m introverted and repulsively anti-social. He likes to play basketball, I prefer to bum around all day in front of my computer. He digs fatty American dishes, I glorify Italian and Chinese cuisine. He enjoys reading news magazines and non-fiction titles, I like reading dystopian lit and magic realism. He listens to good melodies, I dissect the lyrics. He wants to earn big sums, I prefer doing work I’m comfortable with. So obviously, we are just two different people.

But here we are, two people in love, and we really don’t care much about our differences. In fact, these differences are the things that make our relationship even more exciting. If not for him, I wouldn’t realize that going out would be fun. I wouldn’t know that burgers and steaks aren’t really that bad at all. I wouldn’t know that non-fiction reads are just as great as the novels I stock on my shelf. I wouldn’t know that it’s okay to relax to the sounds without fussing over the complexities of the lyrics. It’s like living in an altogether different universe and finding happiness in it. We have this endless stream of topics of conversation flowing between us. We do run out of things to talk about, mind you, but we could share the silence without feeling awkward. With him, differences are beautiful and not something we should argue about.

As my first-grade science teacher had said, “like poles repel and unlike poles attract”. Well, I didn’t know I’d come to appreciate science this much.

10 Things I Wish I Had The Guts (And The Time) To Do

1. Wear red lipstick. I’ve always felt awkward whenever I walk out of the house with even the slightest make-up on, so you could imagine me putting on red lipstick. I thought it would only make me look like a flesh-eating Bratz f*cktard. But still, I’ve seen photos of women wearing luscious red lips and I somehow thought that it MIGHT look good on me had I only been brave enough to wear one.

2. Ride a roller coaster. Okay now, no laughing. At this point I would have to admit that I’ve never experienced a roller coaster ride. I blame it on my unmanageable motion sickness attacks, even riding a Merry-Go-Round is a catastrophe.

3. Kiss a stranger full on the lips. Yes I know, it may sound sick but I’ve always wished I had the guts to steal a kiss from some random guy out there. Like when you’re walking down the street and this guy, looking all hot and enigmatic, eyef*cks the hell out of you. Swoon! Oh well, it’s me and my perversities again.

4. Spit at someone else’s face. HAHA! Yeah, this has been my ultimate fantasy. I would work up some juices inside my mouth, take good aim, and spit it all at the face that disgusts me the most. Oh, the satisfaction and the sense of fulfillment it gives is beyond measure. Works best if you have colds (wink).

5. Shoplift. Prices of goods are ridiculously high these days. So you wouldn’t blame me if I suddenly have this urge to pocket a few merchandise and relieve myself the burden of having to pay for them. If only supermarkets aren’t too strict on implementing security procedures. And IF ONLY I was a little less chicken-hearted.

6. Get inked. If Amy Winehouse’s health isn’t deteriorating at the moment, I would’ve been serious about my attempts at getting inked. I know her tattoos have nothing to do with her health problems but I just thought it would make me look sickly in a tried-my-best-to-look-tough-but-I-screwed-up kind of way. Still, I think that the skin would make a great canvas of sorts.

7. Make a fake reservation. This is an act I have rehearsed and run through over and over in the old days (but have never gotten around to doing it, obviously). This is what I’d do: I would call up and ask for a reservation in a swanky restaurant, give a fake name (probably from a residential directory), and have it cancelled seconds before the said time, or worse, make a terrific no-show.

8. Bypass the public toilet queue. One of the worst places on earth for a girl (aside from an SRO concert event) is the ladies’ public restroom. Believe me, a trip to the ladies’ room could instantly turn a blissful shopping spree into a nightmare. Long queues make me sick, so I dream of being able to pull this stunt off someday. You may think that ladies are harmless, but this I tell you: never EVER underestimate the deadly manicured claws and the monstrous spine-tingling leather handbag of a lady.

9. Crossdress for a day. One time I asked a boy bud of mine what they talk about inside the men’s room, or if they actually talk about anything at all. Well, he just looked at me as if I’d thrown cow poop at his face. So that got me wondering, what do boys talk about when they’re all by themselves (aside from sex, of course)? What do they have in their bags (porn CDs maybe)? I know guys wouldn’t confide that much in us girls so I came up with this brilliant idea!

10. Start a war in YouTube. With just a few racist videos or some really nasty jokes, I could definitely start an online bloodbath in YouTube! Yee-hah! Isn’t it fun seeing all those people hurl profanities at each other over such petty things? I know, right. This could be the start of my most dreamed-of online superstardom! Again, only if I wasn’t the gutless little miss that I am.

Life on Paper

It’s not everyday you get to really appreciate the things you have. But I suppose it just feels good to do so, especially when you are in an unpleasant mood. It’s comforting, I tell you. In my case though, it all started with a disheartening exam and the uber-depressing movie “Buried”.

When I got home after a looong day, I got so dramatically consumed with grief and anguish that I frantically scoured my unwatched DVD collection for some feel-good films. I desperately needed something that would lift my spirits. So there I was randomly selecting movies and I finally got down to watching “Beauty and the Briefcase” and “Letters to Juliet”. The protagonists in the two films are both writers so I got to reflect on myself more—myself as a writer, that is.

I remember only too well that day when I decided I wanted to hone my writing skills and take a course in Mass Communications. That was after I got convinced by my grandmother that taking a Fine Arts course wouldn’t do me any good. I was in high school back then, a sophomore. I didn’t know much about writing then—about grammar, structure, figurative expressions, all those stuff. All I knew was that I loved reading. But I knew that just because I was an avid reader it doesn’t mean that I could make a good writer someday. What I know is, as an avid reader, I have this secret wish of wanting to be read, to be on the reverse side of it all. So with the help of a few of my literary idols—Dickens, Rowling, Stevenson, Keene, Coelho and King—I tidied up a bit and took little steps into becoming a literary writer. I remember converting my old notebooks into storybooks. I would write down stories and draw images across the page and have someone read it aloud. Yeah, sounds crazy. But it was pretty much how I spent my childhood then (after the era of Barbie and Polly Pocket, of course). I took up Journalism and found out that there’s a lot more to writing than what I thought to be only entirely about scratching a pen on paper: that the world is big and there are a lot of great stories out there waiting to be heard.

I’ve always loved listening to people talk about their lives, what and where, this and that. Somehow, they make excellent stories, more interesting and more colorful than those of movie stars, celebrities, politicians, and all those despicable hypocrites out there who actually don’t have anything substantial to share to the world. These stories are worthy of being printed across glossy paper or etched all over the sweet-smelling pages of a hard-bound book. And this—as I’ve discovered while journeying through the valuable lessons of life as a writer—is what I’m here for: to look for great stories and make them known. To listen to what these people have to say and help them reach out and share their stories to everyone else in the world. To give them what is due as stars of their own stories, celebrities in their own right. And this is why I’m proud of being a writer: because I’ve always done my fair share of searching far and wide for these stories and retelling them in a way that would capture the interest of my readers, to make them feel that these stories matter to them as their own. This is my way of making people understand the value of life, and what it is to others as well.

Just like Sophie in “Letters to Juliet”, whose knack for spotting interesting stories led her to find love in the most unexpected way, or Laine in “Beauty and the Briefcase”, who has always been driven by her dream of writing for Cosmopolitan magazine, writing—for me—has been more than just a part of my life. Rather, it is LIFE for me. Yes, I do write for a living. But I’ve always preferred it the other way around: I LIVE to WRITE. So if you’re a writer and you’re feeling bad about making do with a measly salary, don’t be. Look outside your window. Eventually, you’ll realize that the world needs you more than you know.

A Half-Hearted Decision

Have you ever been coerced to do something so bad it made you cry just thinking about it? OK, wouldn’t want to give you the wrong idea but I wasn’t molested or abused or anything. It’s just me and my obsessing over stressful things like work, more work, and more more more work. People close to me come up and tell me, “You stress too much about things that aren’t worth stressing about”. But what can I do? This is me driven by the absolute inevitability of taking more than what I could handle. Because I’m not very fortunate enough to have extra dough to spend for all the vanities life could offer. Because I can’t buy that swell outfit from Dorothy Perkins. Because I don’t have the means to bum around and stuff myself with Porterhouse steak or a Yellow Cab pizza or even Twister Fries!

Alright, it all started because I couldn’t treat myself to Twister Fries. But no, this isn’t just about that. This is about virtually everything that got me all bonkers again.

Someone close to me offered me a part time job in the insurance company they work in. Don’t get me wrong, I’m always going to be grateful for the offer. But the thing is, a huge chunk of my indecisiveness is all about me not wanting the job at all. Alright, I’m not “sales material”, whatever you wanna call it, and it’s an unchartered territory for me.

I have this inkling that it’s really not meant to be. First of all, I couldn’t quite manage to fit it in my cramped schedule. Second of all, I failed the exam (and me failing an exam is a major thing, mind you). And third I just don’t see myself doing it at all. And no one seems to understand!

Problem is, I can’t bring myself to quit, after all they’ve done for me and after all the trouble I’ve caused them…it’s never going to be that simple. Now I’m all stuck. I just thought, well, maybe I should just suck it all up.

Caught in a Chase

Has anyone you know ever been "sheeped"?

I tried to look up the meaning of the word in the Internet, and this is what I got:

1. To send email from another user's account, notifying the world that this person has broken computer security policy by walking away from their computer and left it unlocked.
2. Usually used in the game World Of Warcraft.
3. A take on the phrase "Pulling the wool over his/her eyes", meaning that you might as well have a whole sheep because you are lying or bluffing so much.

...And a whole lot of crap. But nothing really came close to what I had in mind when I was reading Murakami's "A Wild Sheep Chase". And after reading it, these weird images start creeping inside my mind. For one, I came close to the point when I'm starting to question my own sanity. Like I've been quite unhinged for a while. And who wouldn't? It's like your whole world was plunged into chaos and no matter what you do, you can't rub the feeling off. And I never wanted to admit I'm living a mediocre life after all. But after reading this, well...maybe I am. So I'm desperate to get into the chase for this sheep.

So, in my own words, I pluck out a meaning for the word.
sheeped: (adj) to be in a state of total mental mayhem, that of being sheep-like (like when you suddenly felt the urge to buy a woolen sweater)

OK, enough of this crap.

"A Wild Sheep Chase"is a mock-detective novel where names are of zero importance. Not a single character in the story had a name. Except for Kipper, the cat. They do have names of course, only they weren't actually identified in the book. So this guy is practically living a very normal life, or to borrow words from the book, a very "mediocre existence". He runs his own advertising company with a colleague, and then a few years later he and his wife got divorced. Then he meets a girl who's got seductive ears that, as he says, improves sex a thousand times.

But one day, he and his girlfriend get caught up in this serious business of one called "the Boss", a powerful right-wing politico, all because of a photograph of a sheep his friend "the Rat" gave him. Then he meets a weirdo in a sheep outfit who talks without pausing. Apparently, the sheep is no ordinary one; it's a lot bigger than the common breed, with a white face and a star-shaped mark on its behind (see book cover). This sheep was said to be the one that entered Genghis Khan, and to be made a host for this sheep means an unparalleled honor. Or so they say. So the sheep enters your body and he finds a healthy pasture inside you. Then you suddenly possess power beyond anything else. But when the sheep leaves your body, you'll be one useless, disgusting heap of garbage.

It's basically a tale of possession; a person becomes possessed by the sheep and he attains power beyond anyone's grasp. The sheep feeds on this "power" and you become its tool; when the sheep is inside you, you lose all hold on yourself. Simple: the sheep gives you power and then you give yourself to it in return.

I say this is one of Murakami's best. The profound, complex plot compensates with the simplicity of the characters. And you can even read it on the train! Easy-peasy! The suspense builds up fast, too, and you'll find yourself gripped by the chilling, eerie atmosphere at the end of the story. What should I say, the ending's spectacular! I was particularly struck by the ingenuity of the "sheep chase", with twists and turns you'd never really expect. In the end, I was actually "sheeped".

Turns out, I couldn't get over it. Maybe I should get myself some woolen sweater after all.

The Solution

How often do I have to convince myself that taking my own life won't make me feel any better? Come on, think back on those days when you've reveled so much in your life you almost forgot that shit's happening. Recall those books you've read, the life-changing stories that moved you and made you swear never to hate your life again. Remember those valuable pieces of advice that you thought meaningless but later proved to be the only salvation in your otherwise painful existence. Try to enumerate the names of the people who'd be devastated once you've crossed that line.

Or simply, just think about what you'll be leaving behind. Stuff. More and more stuff. Stuff you actually never thought you can't live without. Stuff that mean so much to you. Think, think, think.

Thing is, I just think this is pointless, to force myself into believing that these things make sense. They just don't.

Ode to the Girl on Fire (and the symbolic end of a craze)

"I no longer feel any allegiance to these monsters called human beings, despise being one myself… Because something is significantly wrong with a creature that sacrifices its children’s lives to settle its differences." - Katniss Everdeen, Mockingjay

I know, right. It’s not easy being a kid in a world like our own. Even if it doesn’t exactly mirror the condition of which Panem citizens, particularly the district people, are living in. For all we know, circumstances may lead to it, and, being the barbarians that we are, it wouldn’t be much too long before someone realizes that people need to be coerced. And the people who possess the power will only have their greed, their insatiability, their self-indulgence overcome whatever sanity and reason that’s left in their tiny, money-driven heads. Much, much too soon. And the children are the ones who will have to suffer the consequences.

This is the reality the Hunger Games trilogy wanted us to see.

However, I’m not going to tell you what exactly happened in Mockingjay since a lot of the fans out there aren’t done reading the book yet, and I don’t wanna be chastised, or worse, be skinned alive for spoiling the suspense. Let me just tell you how I, for that matter, relate to the story.

OK so right now I’m coping with Mockingjay withdrawal symptoms, and I’m really having a hard time trying to concentrate on something that would take my mind off it. The thing is, this has always been a problem, me getting so attached to a novel and finding it really hard to move on after I’ve finished reading. I’m thrown into the same scenario all the time: Three days to read the book and a week or two to mull over it. Days of deprivation and half-hearted responses to the friends and workmates who engage me in conversation. Several moments of being caught lost in thought, trying to put words to that weird feeling of abandonment consuming me.

You might think I’m overreacting. Yeah well, I wish I am. I remember as if it was just yesterday how I cried really hard after finishing the last Harry Potter book. I mean, come on, I started reading Harry Potter since I was 12 and had been truly devoted to the series ever since. I practically grew up with Harry; he was my own paper-and-pen twin brother. So when the series finally came to an end, the sadness was just so overwhelming. I felt empty and useless and miserable. It’s like the end of the world for me, you know, that feeling of not having anything to look forward to anymore. And how you’d feel alone during the wee hours of the morning because there is no 600-page novel to keep you company and to spend all your sleepless nights with. Yep, painful.

It’s basically just the same with Mockingjay, though I started reading Hunger Games just over a year ago. I wasn’t a fan of dystopian literature because I used to have this general impression that dystopian novels are the easiest to write since you can put in virtually anything you want—from flying bulldozers, hybrid animals to tie-dyed human beings—and get away with it just like that. Readers would get mystified and wouldn’t care much about the story anymore. But the Hunger Games trilogy is an exception. For me it’s not just a dystopian novel but a mirror image of what the world could possibly look like in the not-so-distant future. Katniss Everdeen is likewise the very reflection of myself—a girl who was thrown mercilessly into the world and subjected to the harsh tests of life.

I used to be a Katniss Everdeen in my own little world, battling endlessly with all the shit life was throwing at me. At a very early age, I learned that life can be cruel and I had no choice but to suck it up. So much for the drama. What I’m trying to say is that now I’m done with Mockingjay, I feel more alone than ever. I just lost a paper-and-pen twin sister who’s just survived a bloody war in her world.

Now I’m left to deal with my own misery. And the bigger games are just about to begin.

Before the Beginning by Rainer Maria Rilke

God speaks to each of us as we are made,
then walks with us silently out of the night.
These are the words, the numinous words,
we hear before we begin:

You, called forth by your senses
reach to the edge of your longing.
Become my body
grow like a fire behind things
so their shadows spread
and cover me completely

Let everything into you;
beauty and terror.
Keep going, remember
no feeling lasts forever

Don’t lose touch with me.
Nearby is the land they call life,
you will know it by its intensity.

Give me your hand.

The Venom

Anger as soon as fed is dead –
‘Tis starving makes it fat.
- Emily Dickinson


On some days, I could really be such a hardheaded bitch. But I realized it would be extremely difficult not to be. There are just some instances when you totally have no choice but to let the venom out. Or else it’ll turn on you. And when you finally let it all out, the feeling of relief is just so overwhelming you could almost touch it.

Talking about anger, I would have to admit that I’ve always been manipulated by my own temper. But I do find a proper outlet, a suitable conduit so I wouldn’t end up throwing an F to random strangers on the street. Sometimes when I feel my temper slowly rising on the surface, I get my guitar and strum a happy tune. Or I’d flip open a book. Or I’d switch my laptop on and write to my heart’s content.

But I could say I was never at ease with the anger phase. Despite the intensity of the feeling, I keep my old self anchored at the base, just to stop myself from blowing things out of proportion. So even when a “stray bullet” (a codename for the malicious words I often get from a certain someone at work) comes speeding my way, I could recover easily from the attack. Or if I’m lucky enough, maybe I could dodge it using a well-devised counter-attack (again, IF I’m lucky, which I hardly ever was).

It’s OK to let your anger consume you. Sometimes, it’s the only way you can free yourself from all the shit that’s been burdening you. Just as long as you won’t lose yourself in the process and that you would know how to get back to your old, lovable self again.

Carpe Diem

I rarely have the whole weekend to myself. Most of the time I spend it doing part time work for a small web copywriting business that a friend of mine owns and operates. On some days, I would volunteer to do some household chores (I would always prefer washing the dishes so I could get my fingernails cleaned). At times I would ask my boyfriend to come over and watch a basketball game on TV with me (him enthusiastically reliving every glorified basketball moment he had in his life and me feigning interest) or to just talk about things (if I’m lucky to even get him to talk).

So now, let me just seize this chance.

Yesterday, while I was updating my Facebook account, I had a very interesting conversation with a close friend at work. At first it was the usual humorous banter we often had, until it got a bit serious. He asked me how I was and I was all “I’m not sure but I could do with some piece of advice.” I remember telling him days ago—while I was all drunk and pooped after a drinking session with my colleagues at work—about how I couldn’t seem to have the time to do the things I used to do and actually enjoy them. Was I being too hard on myself, staying up until one in the morning doing part time work that would only get me as far as a few dollars and then waking up at 6am to prepare for my regular 9-to-5 job? Am I missing a lot in life now, having been held prison by my own noble virtues, slaving away with the responsibilities that are just too big for me to handle?

To that he said “Life is a matter of choice”, which, in my twisted mind, would most definitely translate to, if you choose to be this way then suck it up. I know, but it makes so much sense. He said I should stop stressing myself with so many things. And maybe I should stop rushing through life like a maniac an start to take it easy. Why not seize every moment of happiness and enjoy it? Life is too short to burden yourself with too much stress from work, financial foibles, conflicts, etc. God only gave us 24 hours in a day to make the most out of it. So seize the day. Carpe diem.

I wanted this weekend to be totally different by doing absolutely nothing. I thought it would be good to stop being productive just this once, for a change. Slept through the day, read a book, learned to play a new song in the guitar, ate a full meal, watched TV, laughed hard and prayed. This is how I seize that one-off chance of being totally unburdened and unoccupied with work. This is just how I choose to seize the day. And as the weekend draws to a close, I’m just so glad I can end the day without so much as stealing a glance at the clock.

The Cure For Death

“I’d be struggling with a lot of other long-forgotten things…But all that is just a part of life; and the price you pay for having to deal with those minor problems is far less than the price you pay for not recognizing they’re yours.” – Mari in “Veronika Decides To Die”

When people decide to end their lives, I come to think of two possible reasons: one, they think that their lives have suddenly become meaningless and they get tired of it; two, they think they’ve finally fulfilled their purpose in life and have reached the end of the road (in which case, going on living will only prove pointless). But either way you see it, there seems to be no evident systematic approach as to how you’d know when the right time to die has come. I mean, how would you know if your life has suddenly taken a turn for the worst and there’s no other way out but to end it? How would you know if you’ve finally arrive at that certain point in your life when you can say that all your dreams have been realized and the person you are now is the person you’ve always wanted to be? The thing is, there is only way to find the answers to these questions: you have to live through the rest of your life—living while never having to worry where this life is taking you—and thus, discover up to what extent this life can be relished.

Paulo Coelho’s “Veronika Decides to Die” opens our eyes to the awful truth that sometimes, the only way to appreciate life is through experiencing how it’s like without it. Based on real events on Coelho’s own life, the novel tells the story of 24-year-old Veronika who seems to have everything: loving and supportive parents, youth, beauty, men who adored her, and a fulfilling job. But one day, she decides to die. Overdosing in sleeping pills, she prepares her own deathbed with much passion and enthusiasm for a dying person. But she wakes up and finds herself in a mental hospital (Villete) where she is told that she only has days to live. In Villete, she meets people of varying degrees of insanity, develops a lasting friendship with two women who had touched her life, falls in love with a schizophrenic, and learns to appreciate life each day as she struggles against death.

The characterization was brilliant; Coelho painted exquisite portraits of people who are themselves victims of the nonsensical monotony and conventionality of life, manifesting their revulsion for such through different gestures of madness. There’s Zedka who suffered from depression because of a long-lost beloved she never had the strength to fight for; Mari, a brilliant lawyer who experienced severe panic attacks before she could make the career change she had wanted; Eduard, a diplomat’s son who withdrew to his own make-believe reality to search for a “paradise” that nobody believed existed; Veronika who turned her somewhat “perfect” existence upside-down when she got tired of the seemingly endless cycle of life, never having the chance to go out of her comfort zone; and Dr. Igor who devoted a lifetime in search for the elusive cure to Vitriol, a sensation characterized by bitterness and hatred, which he believed to have caused one’s sudden apathy for life.

Also, the unexpected romance that blossomed between Veronika and Eduard moved me in ways no other love story could ever have done (given that I'm not much of a sucker for love stories). I mean, what could be crazier than two crazy-in-love people who have so much love to give to even be cautious of the risk of “overdoing” it? In a time when people keep to what’s rational and reasonable when it comes to love—conscious that they might go overboard for fear of losing a significant part of themselves—would you even go as far as to ask yourself, “Did you ever love at all?”

The same applies with how people go about their lives today. There are too many rules to follow, too many ditches and stumbling blocks to dodge, too many tasks to accomplish, too many consequences to face that it would feel tremendously pleasant to just leave them all behind and go on living without taking notice of these things. But think of this as—like in the movie “Click”—being in “auto-pilot”. You wake up in the morning, eat, drink, take a shower, dress up, go to work, make some calls, get home and sleep without actually “living” every moment of it. So you wouldn’t really know what “living” means because you haven’t actually experienced it, not even once. And as a consequence, you’d have this terrible nagging feeling that something is amiss. Then you’ll die without having to know what it’s like to live.

But maybe you don’t really need to actually die to appreciate life; perhaps all you’ll really need is to grab a copy of this book and read it to your heart’s content.

The Rush

If there’s one thing I’ve picked up from this sort of one-week-away-from-it-all vacation, it’s that you’ll never really have enough time to do the things you want, regardless of how much contemplation and deliberation you’ve put into it.

And no matter how badly you want it.

A week before my much-anticipated one-week vacation leave from work, I was just so psyched! Why, I had everything planned, from start to finish. And it wasn’t easy! There was just a f*ckload of things to do, and I tried my best to keep tabs on them. And this is why it went all f*cked up in the end: I just got way too overboard!

Now, I’m experiencing post-vacation trauma (goodness knows if there really is such a thing). What kills me the most is knowing that I haven’t done so much as sorted out my to-do list and kept a zero accomplishment count. Not to mention that tallying your achievements for the day is sooo depressing.

So for the benefit of the tard who’d be reading this now, this is the list I conjured up before plunging into the nothingness that is my one-week vacation:

1. Gather all requirements for Graduate School. And when I say gather, it means GATHER in all the effin sense of the word. Good: all the requirements were listed down. All that’s left for you to do is to, well, have it printed and check check check away. Bad: it was too much work! One day is simply not enough to complete them! There was a two-page essay, much like a personal selling thing about how you see yourself years from now, how you can contribute to society and a fuckload of crap; some 300-peso-worth documents from my old school; other documents I needed to get from my previous employer; and a lot more.

2. Get some work done. Being the Little Miss Responsible Employee that I am, sure, I took home some paperworks. And I intended to really get them done this time, I do. Really. Sucks coz I always sound like I’m trying to convince myself.

3. Hang out with my boyfriend. OK, this is serious. Our idea of a date had gone from the sweet, classy wastefulness of fine-dining galore to the unceremonial tuhog-tuhog savagery in the rundown eateries along the streets. Yes, these days, all we ever did was share a measly merienda and endure the excruciating one-hour bus ride home.

4. DVD marathon. You might be wondering while something as instinctive as watching DVD should be in the list. Oh well, if you know me enough, you’d even think I needed to list down “cut fingernails” or “make coffee for breakfast”.

5. Finish a book. Now I bought this book almost two weeks ago and I really am starting to be hysterical because I haven’t gotten around to finishing it.

6. Get that vector art done for goodness sake!

7. Fill up my blog. And hell yeah, I’m just about to that, thank you very much.


So I filled my to-do list to the brim and a few moments before the end of my so-called one-week vacation, I realized I still haven’t accomplished fuckloads! Now how could I cram them into an hour?

As I was preparing for work, I told myself, heck, maybe I should take it easy next time. Maybe next time around, I should be savoring every minute of that hard-earned vacation. Yeah, maybe next time.

I once had a girl, or should I say, she once had me

One of my favorite novels finally hits the big screen! Haruki Murakami’s “Norwegian Wood” is by far the best love story I’ve ever read (in recent memory), and I’m a huge Beatles freak (i mean, who isn’t?) so I’m just so psyched about this! And oh, Kenichi Matsuyama of Death Note is casted as Toru Watanabe.

Just recently, the producers of the film secured the approval to make use of the original Beatles song of the same title, Norwegian Wood. As all ye Beatles fans know, the song Norwegian Wood was first recorded in the Beatles album “Rubber Soul” released in 1965, including hits like Michelle and Girl. The song inspired Murakami’s 1987 novel, from which the title was adopted. Set against the backdrop of student movements during the 60s, the novel tells the story of a young college student named Toru Watanabe who struggles against the overwhelming influence of death, alongside his troubled girlfriend Naoko. Sometime later, he meets the vivacious, outgoing Midori and soon finds himself choosing between the future and the past.

Director Tran Anh Hung felt that it was only natural to use the song Norwegian Wood as the movie’s theme song, but Apple Records, which owns the rights to the Beatles catalog, refused at first. Hung persisted and soon his efforts paid off and they were given approval last December. Apple Records has a policy against using songs of the Beatles in any commercial work, but they made an exception for “Norwegian Wood” owing to the “tremendous popularity” of the novel.

“Norwegian Wood” opens in theaters this December. :)

New Neighbor

Just moved in to Blogspot and I'm quite new (obviously). So, anyone care to show me around?

Anyway, I just thought Blogspot could very well quench my thirst for blogging better than my previous blog domain. I was browsing through blogspot and I just found out I can post videos in here! Cool!

I'm also planning to transfer all my other blogs in here, but I'm still trying to figure out how.

So for the mean time...Welcome to Blogspot!