For the lonely souls obsessed with ice cream

There’s nothing much about today that I find interesting, but for some reason I wanted to write. Has that ever happened to you before?

THE COMPLETE LACK OF SIGNIFICANCE

BUT THE OVERWHELMING NEED TO SHARE THE WITH SOMEONE

Does that mean I’m lonely?

Or illogical?

Perhaps I’m just delayed on my period again and my hormones are going mad.

Here’s my point in this completely random entry. Sometimes the things that make us feel better don’t make much sense. I mean, I don’t get why anyone want chocolates when they sad – apart from the biological reason – or why driving around makes someone think clearer. I can only speak for what makes me happier or, at least, feel a little less like a menopausal 24-year old.

I need to write.

What’s your pint of ice cream or box pizza when you feel unusually down?

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united colors of bullies

It’s been awhile since I last put up an entry and before I start sobbing and saying sorry for leaving you guys hanging, let me just say that I had a tough month writing 15 chapters of a book I’m hoping to publish. So please please put down the pitch forks, I’m not one to make excuses but my brain was fried (figuratively of course).

Today I thought it would be fun to write about a topic that inspired one of my book concepts and that is bullies– in all their colors and varieties. We already know about the obvious ones, which mind you are a scary lot but there are more subtle versions. They hide under the covers labeling themselves something more beautiful and attractive. The magpie in us grovel for the promise that it oh so boldly declares then we realize later on that the shine it has is all that it is, shine.

The inspiration came from a nostalgic evening of coffee with 2 of my best friends- after they convinced me to keep writing on this blog because THEY ACTUALLY READ IT AND LIKE IT. Imagine my surprise when they started talking about entries I wrote, I mean these are my overly critical, highly intellectual and difficult to please best friends we’re talking about. My self loathing subconscious found that difficult to believe and quite frankly, I was speechless for a few moments.

On the same night, we realized a lot about the path we took together in college. We gave up so much to be that image of an over achieving student whose main goal is to get the best grades, manage as many  extra curriculars and maintain as few creative, non logical pursuits as we can. Labels and expectations- the box they made for us- those were our bullies. 

photo from caity-bullying.blogspot.com

I’ve finally learned that bullies don’t just come in different kinds of people, they come in every shape, size or form. I may not have been shoved around or locked in a janitor’s closet by some teen fiction stereotype queen bee but I’ve been confined in a society where there’s a predetermined standard of beauty- one which some may claim I don’t fit. That norm, that belief, that is my own brand of bully. It follows me around, taunting me to cinch around my curves and smoothen my edges to fit this overused mold already made for me.

When I  found enough courage and fought back, told society to shove its size zero, fair-skinned, blonde perfection up their bums, another bully manifested from the shadows- one far stronger and more paralyzing than its predecessor. The firm grip of its manacle, over sized hands smother me with ridicule of how success has and will continue to elude me because the career I chose to love and devote my life to will not earn me millions, buy me a mansion or a jet-setting lifestyle

Your bullies may be far more frightening or life threatening than mine. I can’t be the judge of that and I won’t try to. If there’s one thing I took away from dealing with bully after bully, people and circumstances alike, they’re never as easy to deal with as they they seem on the outside. It’s a bully for a reason. They know your weakness and capitalize on it as much as they can so you’re hurt in the worst possible way. They planned the perfect, most gruesome way to twist and turn the knife they stuck to your heart so you’re left clutching at it, trying to rip it off and stop the bleeding.

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But if you don’t know already, let me be the first to tell you, you’re far stronger than any of your bullies. You have the ability heal and those battle scars will remind you every day of how you fought and how you deserve to be happy- HOW YOU’RE WORTH A LIFE YOU CHOSE TO LIVE and not one chosen by some thug or an unfortunate circumstance for you. 

You get one shot at life my friend, don’t let some bully take that away from you. 

hiatus finally over

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MISCHIEF MANAGED.

To the Potterheads, you may already know what that means. Simply it means that whatever I’ve been up to- and clearly, it’s been fun and hectic that I wasn’t able to update my blog for a while- is finally OVER. Honestly, I’m not sure if I’m truly happy that it’s over but I’m definitely glad to be back and writing again. I needed this, actually more than I thought I did.

So you’ll be reading more from me soon. 🙂

unmailed letter

I read somewhere, sometime ago that bottled emotions especially for other people are best written then kept. That way you get to rid yourself of all the tension; you’re able to express what you truly feel without the possibility of hurting someone else. So I did that.

 I guess that may be the reason why I wanna come clean, to dispense myself of this secret. It’s just too heavy to carry around and you know I wanna go places.

Writing down each word is therapy in itself. It almost feels like I’m talking to him without feeling the compulsion to constantly reword everything, so it doesn’t offend him, so it fits his standards, so it lives up to mine. I could just finally say it and not be sorry I did.

I could sit here all day long and come up with the perfect excuse, the most reasonable one, why I never said anything and decided everyday to stay mum but the truth is I was scared. And you know me, I am seldom scared.

After every word has gone and I have exhausted all I wanted to say, a part of me feels guilty that he will never get to read it. It’s like when a guy likes a girl so much but has decided to be a secret admirer, leaving roses on her doorstep and poetry in her locker. Although he’s so scared for fear of rejection, a part him just wants to come clean and tell her in person because there’s still no substitute for an actual real life conversation with her- not even his imagined romantic day with her. Well, I feel that way. Because more than the frustration I wrote are truths that a part of me believes he deserves to know.

I’m not sure if were meant to be friends for the rest of our lives. I’m not even sure if we’d have each other’s number in 5 years but I’d like this letter to remind you (and in a strange telepathic way remind me) that while I pen these words, you mean so much to me. You’ve made a big impact on my life and I will forever admire the way you chose to live your life- uncompromising and full of integrity.

Even as I type this entry out I still haven’t decided whether I should mail him the letter or not. If I don’t mail it, I still have successfully accomplished my mission to dispense myself of all that I have to say to him without having to feel embarrassed about whatever else I wrote. If I do, we might need to talk about and right now I’m sure if that’s a good thing or not.

I guess maybe I was hoping by the end of this entry I’d finally know what to do but still, nothing.

i think therefore

I AM?

This morning, as I was checking my blog, my cousin mentioned she was contemplating on starting her own but was a bit apprehensive and slightly unsure of her writing capabilities. She says her voice, her writing style may be too loud, not loud enough, boring, too eccentric, annoying or just plain offensive.

Have there been times when you wanted to do something so much but you were scared you’ll be really bad at it? I did; I still do sometimes. When that happens, I make sure I really want to do it first, that I can commit to it and that I’m really passionate about it. If I can tick every single one of those off the list then…

I take a deep breath and just do it.

If something (doesn’t matter how difficult, embarrassing or terrifying) is truly worth doing, it’s worth a try. Sometimes it might not work out and that’s just life but when it does work out, then it’s one of the most rewarding feelings in the world. So get over that fear and trust yourself. Think you’re capable because if you aren’t already, you will be.

*PS And Shane, this post is for you. Get that blog up. I know you want to. LOL. 🙂

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here’s to the 100th

I’m notorious for pushing myself to do the things I fear the most like

walking on a thin wire 50 feet off the ground,

public debates,

jumping off high places,

standing firm during confrontations

and

starting a blog.

I haven’t been writing for while before I started this blog. There was just too much happening to find time to sit down and just write so I seldom did. I can’t even begin to describe how scared I was right before I hit that first publish button. After that, I realized I needed this. I needed to write again because there’s just too much noise suppressed, unexpressed on my mind.

This blog became my outlet, one which constantly reminds me that good things come to those who aren’t crippled by fear. Had I not started this blog, I would still be imagining the day when I could be brave enough to write again and to actually have people read it. Now here I am, already on post number 100 (YEY ME! *insert applause here*) happy and proud I had the guts to sign up for this.

My advice to those who are at a crossroads, deciding which road to take, don’t shy away from the road that challenges you to be better no matter how frightening it seems. The pay off is always worth it. 

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HERE’S TO POST NUMBER 100, CHEERS!

100th

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deleting comments

Posting online takes a lot of bravery.

Granted we are protected by a veil of anonymity and very few if not none will be able to tell who we really are when we decide to hide behind the masks of our online names but it doesn’t make us any less vulnerable to judgements  made by our fellow netizens. The pang of anger and hurt we feel when we read derogatory comments about our posts, what we stand for or, much worse, who we are as people is not diminished by the fact that they don’t personally know who we are and that they’re not saying it to our face. It’s equally painful.

Yesterday I was posing a question towards a stance a blogger had on gun control. It wasn’t anything personal nor argumentative. It was a simple query regarding the logic of his parallelism. He then responded with a full on tirade about how I must be black or an immigrant of some sort who wishes to reek hell on US. At first I thought he was joking. It really did not make much sense how he attacked my character and how he stereotyped non-white races as pro destruction or violence. Although I found it extremely offensive, I wasn’t going to let him turn me into some conflict crazy monster who argues with everyone who has a different view so I simply told him that there was no need to feel attacked but he just wouldn’t stop. He then deleted all my comments and the comments of those who also had a different view.

It’s a blogger’s right to moderate the comments on his page especially if it hampers the image or the goal of his site. However, I hope that we’re all responsible enough to understand that presenting our readers with a skewed version of the truth lessens our credibility as bloggers. Just because you quoted a Harvard Study out of context, it doesn’t mean you’re handed the authority bastardize the dignity of discourse. Disrespecting those who have different views or are of a different race or culture under the guise of a pen name or an online profile is barbaric. Let’s not make the web an avenue for bullying, promoting irrationality and creating racial divide.

And by the way dear Sir, erasing my comments and the comments of all those other people on your page only proves that you think they have merit and you’re a little scared your readers will think the same. Let’s be dignified netizens and respect the influence we’ve been awarded.