(Read Vanilla 1.0)

I'm getting quite used to the predictability of my everyday life. Everything is such a routine -- from increasingly tedious acads to uneventful social life. I try to make things interesting for myself but it feels as if everything goes back to the same dreary mood at the end of the day. I do the same things over and over. It's so.. boring.

But I guess if it weren't for the monotony, I wouldn't appreciate the little but significant moments that do stand out.

Today was yet another vanilla-turned-sundae day. (Sun-day?)

This time though, it was an entirely different flavor.

And to make things much better.. my ice cream wasn't just figurative anymore! Yes friends, my extremely pleasant day came with a real, actual dessert.

:)

I guess it's obvious that one of my most overused phrase is "raging teenage hormones."

It always finds its way into my speech -- as a reason and excuse, or a statement of a fact. Either way, it has been a part of my vocabulary. Raging teenage hormones this, raging teenage hormones that. The surge of these chemicals is like a license to crankiness and indecisiveness, especially for us girls. It can let you get away with anything. Well, for me at least.

It was pheromones that brightened up my morning when I caught a whiff of an increasingly familiar scent. It was serotonin that kept me awake in Geog class despite the pains in my lower abdomen. It was oxytocin that allowed me to open up to a close friend and share to her my secrets and musings. It was a combination of dopamine and adrenaline that made me yearn for my late lunch. It was endorphin that brought satisfaction to me when I gave a very good friend who needed some cheering up presents.

(Okay, Biology majors, feel free to correct me anytime!)

I can blame the hormones for everthing. I can let them do the explaining. They are my reasons, my excuse, my justification. Sure, it may be irrational. But come on -- it's that time of the month! You can't really expect me to be sensible today.

But it wasn't adrenaline, endorphins, or oxytocin that I felt surging through my veins when someone showed up today. Why? Why wasn't there a spine-tingling, heartbeat-racing connection? It's not so much that I still want it there, more like, I'm not used to its absence.

What surprises me is how reasonable my realization was at the end of my day. I'm normally irrational and moody when it's code red. I lose the capacity to connect the dots and put the pieces of the puzzle together. However when I stepped back and looked at the greater picture, I finally proved to myself what I've been wanting to see all along. Everything made sense now.

And you know what?

I'm glad. And relieved.

Who knew being hormonal can lead to being rational, too?

---

Second long exam on Italian 11, and first exam on Geog 1 on Thursday.

Yeyy for stress caused by acads!

Not.

I guess as an "artist" it's always about the moments we can catch and put into our craft that can define our art. Be it using your canvas and paint, your camera, your dance, your song, your facial expression, your words -- you want to be able to seize the abstract and make it tangible, however difficult that may be.

I've always wondered how it would be like to encapsulate silence. Is it ever possible?

Silence is a vague concept. Is it just the absence of vibrations and sound waves? Is it the calm before the storm, or the rainbow after the rain? What is it really, and why do we keep on pushing it away when we all know how badly we need it?

When you read a random quote sprawled on the jeepney dashboard and you feel a smile spreading on your lips because it reminds you of someone;

When you are watching a huge basketball game and for a split second everyone holds their breath as the star player releases a 3-point-shot attempt with 1.7 seconds on the clock;

When you see your crush walking towards your direction and you start to panic about what to say, then he nods at you and walks past you but all you can think of was how his smile seemed to blur everything else away;

When you listen to a new, undiscovered band's really awesome album and you realize you cannot turn the player off even after the last riff has been played;

When you're inside the classroom taking your crucial midterm exam and you can feel the collective anxiety in everyone who want to pass just as badly as you do;

When your parents start fighting and suddenly one of then stands up from the dinner table and locks inside the room, leaving you to finish your meal uncomfortably;

When you're talking on the phone telling how badly you want things to go back to normal and explaining your side but you don't hear him explaining his;

When you're forced to write something for a paper and you start hating that blinking vertical cursor on your screen that you've been staring at for an hour and a half;


These are what I want to capture -- the small, complex, but powerful silences. The almost unnoticeable and very minute quiet pauses that we often neglect but so evidently piece together the bigger moments that make up our day, our lives. It's like the comma that connects the clauses, the staple wire that holds the sheets of paper, the adhesive that keeps the bandaid from falling. Silence can mean so many things: a yes, a no, a refusal, an acceptance. It can be a powerful weapon, or an unforgivable mistake.

Sometimes I wonder if I can put silence in a little locket and keep it around my neck at all times. When things start getting confusing, I will unlock it and put myself in a little bubble, seemingly pausing everything else around me and grant myself a couple of seconds of much-needed quietude. But only for a few moments because too long a silence would be deafening. After a while I will open my eyes again and feel rejuvenated, like the Mozilla browser after being refreshed.

But can one really encapsulate its meaning without using the commotion of words, the splashes of color, the unruliness of sound? Wouldn't that be contradicting its whole idea?


I'll let the silence answer that for now, I guess.



[I didn't mean to get all philosophical tonight. Just something I've been thinking a lot lately that I needed to let out. Writers have moments like this, perhaps. (Naks, feeling writer na talaga!) I suppose it's the hormones. I've been thinking too much again lately. But then again, don't I always? And am I not entitled to the creative scrutiny of everything there is? I am, after all ,an "artist." Haha. Okay, I'm shutting up.]

I don't drink. I am actually one of the rare few who enjoy watching my friends go down, down, down one by one as the night plunges deeper. The thought of recording them and making them YouTube-famous never occurred to me though; I like to keep the "entertainment" for myself. Perhaps, just seeing others loosen up a bit and forget everything that's happening in their lives is refreshing for me. I have always been perceived as the lucky one, the girl with no problems, the one who has no reason to mess up. I have no tangible justification (for others, at least) to go crazy and wild. So I don't. I don't go around doing silly stuff that would usually cause parental anxiety attacks. I've been a good girl, really.

But sometimes being the good girl is tiring.

The one time I was supposed to use my raging teenage hormones as an excuse to commit to someone, I turned that down. The last time I was given the chance to lash out on someone who really, really disappointed me, I forgave him. The one time I was supposed to feel betrayed and hurt by a friend, I let it go. In cases where one is expected to be irrational and insensitive -- I did the grown-up thing to do and made the right decision. I'm supposed to be thankful, really. And actually I am. Not all kids can step back and think things through before making decsions. I was able to. But I guess a little part of me also just wanted a reason to be immature and senseless -- even for a night.

For the record, it wasn't peer pressure. A part of me wanted it for myself, not just because I was curious but because I felt like I needed a reason to feel bad. I've been putting myself up on a pedestal and I couldn't handle the pressure I was applying on myself. I wanted to do good but I felt that I have no reason other than it's what I should do, not what I wanted to do. Life has been generally okay for me, and I feel so unmotivated. I crave for chaos and stress because it keeps things interesting; it keeps me moving. Otherwise I just dissolve and fade into the background.


I guess at the back of my mind I was calling it a "social experiment." I wanted to know what it was like to drink so that it wouldn't be just a concept inside my head -- it would be an experience I can use as a basis in the future. And also because lately I've been having so many issues about myself that are often deemed by others as trivial, but are still troubling nonetheless. I'm at this point in my life where so many questions about my principles and beliefs are coming up and I have no idea where I stand. I don't know where I'm going -- am I taking these roads because it's what I want or it's what is wanted of me? How come things aren't turning out the way I want them to? You call it ridiculousness, I call it identity crisis.

However, this is a lame excuse really. I'm not defending my drinking as a good thing. I wouldn't want to be justifying smoking or drugs or sex in the near future. I know it was irrational of me. But at the end of the day, what's done is done. What did I get out of it? Nothing, really. Only a night (not) worth remembering, a proof of my friends' love for me, and a reason to lie down and sleep all day. Lesson learned. That one time was enough.

But did I feel good about myself? Somehow. Because now I really know that I don't need to drink to loosen up. I can refuse a drink not because my mom's voice would be ringing inside my head, but because I actually know I may not be capable of handling myself. I can move on from that one irresponsible incident and not go wondering "What if?" with all the other experiences others seem to be enjoying. I can take start taking some pressure off of me and start embracing my status quo -- I proved that I don't need alcohol to make things interesting.

So yeah. I got a bit drunk, said stupid things, recovered from the hangover, and woke up to the still uneventful life that I have. I can look back on that night and laugh at myself because it was stupid but it ended up as a rude awakening for me. I hope this doesn't make me a bad girl, but now I guess this makes me more normal. Yeyy!



On the other hand, what kind of normal person would analyze her first drinking experience?

I've been having so many questions inside my head lately.

My iPod, Portia, is lying face up beside my dad's laptop and staring at me, calling me to reach out and touch her.

"Ask," she commands.

She knows her power over me, how I cannot turn away from her compelling spell. It's an irrational tendency to consult her. There's no point resisting, honestly. I know I shouldn't depend so much on her but in moments of (pseudo) desperation, all the should's and shouldn'ts just fly out the window. I eventually give in, close my eyes and ask..


At seventeen, I want to start believing that there is more to life than just fate. I've begun to realize how important the decisions I make are, how crucial every path I choose is to my future. Putting my capability to be rational to good use is a must. I've been disappointed quite a few times already, been hurt here and there, but I learned. As my PanPil19 professor told us, this is all just a big game: there is always a choice to make and a resolution to stick to. It is always up to us to make things happen. You decide your own destiny, she says.

I believe her, really.

But a part of me doesn't want to. What if we are all really just a part of this grandiose plan, and no matter what happens our destinies have already been decided? What if everything, even the little intricate details of our everyday are already pointing to the pinnacle of our very existence? It doesn't matter what we choose because in the end fate will take us to where we are supposed to be. Isn't that alleviating?

A part of me can't let go of that possibility that maybe, just maybe, the stars will align and the cosmos will come together to conspire that one moment, that one answer --

The allure of the uncertain once again enticed me.


So I click.
[ Shuffle Songs ]

I've been having severe headaches and a fever over the weekend. My parents got so worried because I bumped my head last Saturday, so they brought me to the hospital today and had me checked by a neurologist. She suggested an EEG brain scan and gave some medications to manage what she classified as a "toxic vascular headache." I think it's just a snootier way of saying I have a migraine.

The EEG was a new and quite odd experience. They put on lots of wires charged with electrodes on different sections of your head. Then they ask you to do stuff like close your eyes, open your mouth, look at blinking lights -- things that trigger simulate brain activity. It was hard not to fall asleep when I had my eyes closed 75% of the time. All throughout I was thinking, "Oh my goodness what is gonna happen to me? What will they see? Are my neurons a-okay?"

I wanted to relax but I found it quite hard, honestly.

It's hard not to be paranoid in a place where all hope looks bleak.
The last time I was at the hospital, my grandma passed away.
Today, Cory fever was all over Makati Med. I could smell death, I swear.

I'm not usually so morose about hospitals and doctors. There was just something about today that made me feel so.. sad.

I guess no matter how hard I try to downplay it, I still miss my lola. The day she passed away is still so crystal clear inside my head. The sound of the heart monitor as it slowly made that one long beep, the rush of the nurses and doctors as they entered her room, the sobs and tears in between prayers -- it was still resonating in my mind. That day was a turning point in my life. I was 17 and I saw my lola die. Forgive me for stating the obvious, but it really is different when you see someone die, as compared to just hearing about it. When it happens before your eyes there is always that nagging little voice inside your head that says, "Maybe you could have done something," even when you know you couldn't. It will haunt you, it will linger -- it will always bring more questions than answers. I guess even after about eight months, I still haven't recovered.


//


I just suddenly realized how sad 2009 is for pop culture. Francis Magalona, Michael Jackson, Farrah Fawcett, and now Cory Aquino -- icons of hope, faith, and dedication. I wonder how the older generations must feel right now. I didn't get to see them in their prime and yet I feel extremely sad, what more those they touched during the peak of their careers?

RIP, President Cory.


//


I wonder if there is a brain scan capable of showing who your ultimate desire is.. that one person who nestles comfortably in your conscious and subconscious mind. Hmmm :>

(Read Vanilla 1.0)

I'm getting quite used to the predictability of my everyday life. Everything is such a routine -- from increasingly tedious acads to uneventful social life. I try to make things interesting for myself but it feels as if everything goes back to the same dreary mood at the end of the day. I do the same things over and over. It's so.. boring.

But I guess if it weren't for the monotony, I wouldn't appreciate the little but significant moments that do stand out.

Today was yet another vanilla-turned-sundae day. (Sun-day?)

This time though, it was an entirely different flavor.

And to make things much better.. my ice cream wasn't just figurative anymore! Yes friends, my extremely pleasant day came with a real, actual dessert.

:)

I guess it's obvious that one of my most overused phrase is "raging teenage hormones."

It always finds its way into my speech -- as a reason and excuse, or a statement of a fact. Either way, it has been a part of my vocabulary. Raging teenage hormones this, raging teenage hormones that. The surge of these chemicals is like a license to crankiness and indecisiveness, especially for us girls. It can let you get away with anything. Well, for me at least.

It was pheromones that brightened up my morning when I caught a whiff of an increasingly familiar scent. It was serotonin that kept me awake in Geog class despite the pains in my lower abdomen. It was oxytocin that allowed me to open up to a close friend and share to her my secrets and musings. It was a combination of dopamine and adrenaline that made me yearn for my late lunch. It was endorphin that brought satisfaction to me when I gave a very good friend who needed some cheering up presents.

(Okay, Biology majors, feel free to correct me anytime!)

I can blame the hormones for everthing. I can let them do the explaining. They are my reasons, my excuse, my justification. Sure, it may be irrational. But come on -- it's that time of the month! You can't really expect me to be sensible today.

But it wasn't adrenaline, endorphins, or oxytocin that I felt surging through my veins when someone showed up today. Why? Why wasn't there a spine-tingling, heartbeat-racing connection? It's not so much that I still want it there, more like, I'm not used to its absence.

What surprises me is how reasonable my realization was at the end of my day. I'm normally irrational and moody when it's code red. I lose the capacity to connect the dots and put the pieces of the puzzle together. However when I stepped back and looked at the greater picture, I finally proved to myself what I've been wanting to see all along. Everything made sense now.

And you know what?

I'm glad. And relieved.

Who knew being hormonal can lead to being rational, too?

---

Second long exam on Italian 11, and first exam on Geog 1 on Thursday.

Yeyy for stress caused by acads!

Not.

I guess as an "artist" it's always about the moments we can catch and put into our craft that can define our art. Be it using your canvas and paint, your camera, your dance, your song, your facial expression, your words -- you want to be able to seize the abstract and make it tangible, however difficult that may be.

I've always wondered how it would be like to encapsulate silence. Is it ever possible?

Silence is a vague concept. Is it just the absence of vibrations and sound waves? Is it the calm before the storm, or the rainbow after the rain? What is it really, and why do we keep on pushing it away when we all know how badly we need it?

When you read a random quote sprawled on the jeepney dashboard and you feel a smile spreading on your lips because it reminds you of someone;

When you are watching a huge basketball game and for a split second everyone holds their breath as the star player releases a 3-point-shot attempt with 1.7 seconds on the clock;

When you see your crush walking towards your direction and you start to panic about what to say, then he nods at you and walks past you but all you can think of was how his smile seemed to blur everything else away;

When you listen to a new, undiscovered band's really awesome album and you realize you cannot turn the player off even after the last riff has been played;

When you're inside the classroom taking your crucial midterm exam and you can feel the collective anxiety in everyone who want to pass just as badly as you do;

When your parents start fighting and suddenly one of then stands up from the dinner table and locks inside the room, leaving you to finish your meal uncomfortably;

When you're talking on the phone telling how badly you want things to go back to normal and explaining your side but you don't hear him explaining his;

When you're forced to write something for a paper and you start hating that blinking vertical cursor on your screen that you've been staring at for an hour and a half;


These are what I want to capture -- the small, complex, but powerful silences. The almost unnoticeable and very minute quiet pauses that we often neglect but so evidently piece together the bigger moments that make up our day, our lives. It's like the comma that connects the clauses, the staple wire that holds the sheets of paper, the adhesive that keeps the bandaid from falling. Silence can mean so many things: a yes, a no, a refusal, an acceptance. It can be a powerful weapon, or an unforgivable mistake.

Sometimes I wonder if I can put silence in a little locket and keep it around my neck at all times. When things start getting confusing, I will unlock it and put myself in a little bubble, seemingly pausing everything else around me and grant myself a couple of seconds of much-needed quietude. But only for a few moments because too long a silence would be deafening. After a while I will open my eyes again and feel rejuvenated, like the Mozilla browser after being refreshed.

But can one really encapsulate its meaning without using the commotion of words, the splashes of color, the unruliness of sound? Wouldn't that be contradicting its whole idea?


I'll let the silence answer that for now, I guess.



[I didn't mean to get all philosophical tonight. Just something I've been thinking a lot lately that I needed to let out. Writers have moments like this, perhaps. (Naks, feeling writer na talaga!) I suppose it's the hormones. I've been thinking too much again lately. But then again, don't I always? And am I not entitled to the creative scrutiny of everything there is? I am, after all ,an "artist." Haha. Okay, I'm shutting up.]

I don't drink. I am actually one of the rare few who enjoy watching my friends go down, down, down one by one as the night plunges deeper. The thought of recording them and making them YouTube-famous never occurred to me though; I like to keep the "entertainment" for myself. Perhaps, just seeing others loosen up a bit and forget everything that's happening in their lives is refreshing for me. I have always been perceived as the lucky one, the girl with no problems, the one who has no reason to mess up. I have no tangible justification (for others, at least) to go crazy and wild. So I don't. I don't go around doing silly stuff that would usually cause parental anxiety attacks. I've been a good girl, really.

But sometimes being the good girl is tiring.

The one time I was supposed to use my raging teenage hormones as an excuse to commit to someone, I turned that down. The last time I was given the chance to lash out on someone who really, really disappointed me, I forgave him. The one time I was supposed to feel betrayed and hurt by a friend, I let it go. In cases where one is expected to be irrational and insensitive -- I did the grown-up thing to do and made the right decision. I'm supposed to be thankful, really. And actually I am. Not all kids can step back and think things through before making decsions. I was able to. But I guess a little part of me also just wanted a reason to be immature and senseless -- even for a night.

For the record, it wasn't peer pressure. A part of me wanted it for myself, not just because I was curious but because I felt like I needed a reason to feel bad. I've been putting myself up on a pedestal and I couldn't handle the pressure I was applying on myself. I wanted to do good but I felt that I have no reason other than it's what I should do, not what I wanted to do. Life has been generally okay for me, and I feel so unmotivated. I crave for chaos and stress because it keeps things interesting; it keeps me moving. Otherwise I just dissolve and fade into the background.


I guess at the back of my mind I was calling it a "social experiment." I wanted to know what it was like to drink so that it wouldn't be just a concept inside my head -- it would be an experience I can use as a basis in the future. And also because lately I've been having so many issues about myself that are often deemed by others as trivial, but are still troubling nonetheless. I'm at this point in my life where so many questions about my principles and beliefs are coming up and I have no idea where I stand. I don't know where I'm going -- am I taking these roads because it's what I want or it's what is wanted of me? How come things aren't turning out the way I want them to? You call it ridiculousness, I call it identity crisis.

However, this is a lame excuse really. I'm not defending my drinking as a good thing. I wouldn't want to be justifying smoking or drugs or sex in the near future. I know it was irrational of me. But at the end of the day, what's done is done. What did I get out of it? Nothing, really. Only a night (not) worth remembering, a proof of my friends' love for me, and a reason to lie down and sleep all day. Lesson learned. That one time was enough.

But did I feel good about myself? Somehow. Because now I really know that I don't need to drink to loosen up. I can refuse a drink not because my mom's voice would be ringing inside my head, but because I actually know I may not be capable of handling myself. I can move on from that one irresponsible incident and not go wondering "What if?" with all the other experiences others seem to be enjoying. I can take start taking some pressure off of me and start embracing my status quo -- I proved that I don't need alcohol to make things interesting.

So yeah. I got a bit drunk, said stupid things, recovered from the hangover, and woke up to the still uneventful life that I have. I can look back on that night and laugh at myself because it was stupid but it ended up as a rude awakening for me. I hope this doesn't make me a bad girl, but now I guess this makes me more normal. Yeyy!



On the other hand, what kind of normal person would analyze her first drinking experience?

I've been having so many questions inside my head lately.

My iPod, Portia, is lying face up beside my dad's laptop and staring at me, calling me to reach out and touch her.

"Ask," she commands.

She knows her power over me, how I cannot turn away from her compelling spell. It's an irrational tendency to consult her. There's no point resisting, honestly. I know I shouldn't depend so much on her but in moments of (pseudo) desperation, all the should's and shouldn'ts just fly out the window. I eventually give in, close my eyes and ask..


At seventeen, I want to start believing that there is more to life than just fate. I've begun to realize how important the decisions I make are, how crucial every path I choose is to my future. Putting my capability to be rational to good use is a must. I've been disappointed quite a few times already, been hurt here and there, but I learned. As my PanPil19 professor told us, this is all just a big game: there is always a choice to make and a resolution to stick to. It is always up to us to make things happen. You decide your own destiny, she says.

I believe her, really.

But a part of me doesn't want to. What if we are all really just a part of this grandiose plan, and no matter what happens our destinies have already been decided? What if everything, even the little intricate details of our everyday are already pointing to the pinnacle of our very existence? It doesn't matter what we choose because in the end fate will take us to where we are supposed to be. Isn't that alleviating?

A part of me can't let go of that possibility that maybe, just maybe, the stars will align and the cosmos will come together to conspire that one moment, that one answer --

The allure of the uncertain once again enticed me.


So I click.
[ Shuffle Songs ]

I've been having severe headaches and a fever over the weekend. My parents got so worried because I bumped my head last Saturday, so they brought me to the hospital today and had me checked by a neurologist. She suggested an EEG brain scan and gave some medications to manage what she classified as a "toxic vascular headache." I think it's just a snootier way of saying I have a migraine.

The EEG was a new and quite odd experience. They put on lots of wires charged with electrodes on different sections of your head. Then they ask you to do stuff like close your eyes, open your mouth, look at blinking lights -- things that trigger simulate brain activity. It was hard not to fall asleep when I had my eyes closed 75% of the time. All throughout I was thinking, "Oh my goodness what is gonna happen to me? What will they see? Are my neurons a-okay?"

I wanted to relax but I found it quite hard, honestly.

It's hard not to be paranoid in a place where all hope looks bleak.
The last time I was at the hospital, my grandma passed away.
Today, Cory fever was all over Makati Med. I could smell death, I swear.

I'm not usually so morose about hospitals and doctors. There was just something about today that made me feel so.. sad.

I guess no matter how hard I try to downplay it, I still miss my lola. The day she passed away is still so crystal clear inside my head. The sound of the heart monitor as it slowly made that one long beep, the rush of the nurses and doctors as they entered her room, the sobs and tears in between prayers -- it was still resonating in my mind. That day was a turning point in my life. I was 17 and I saw my lola die. Forgive me for stating the obvious, but it really is different when you see someone die, as compared to just hearing about it. When it happens before your eyes there is always that nagging little voice inside your head that says, "Maybe you could have done something," even when you know you couldn't. It will haunt you, it will linger -- it will always bring more questions than answers. I guess even after about eight months, I still haven't recovered.


//


I just suddenly realized how sad 2009 is for pop culture. Francis Magalona, Michael Jackson, Farrah Fawcett, and now Cory Aquino -- icons of hope, faith, and dedication. I wonder how the older generations must feel right now. I didn't get to see them in their prime and yet I feel extremely sad, what more those they touched during the peak of their careers?

RIP, President Cory.


//


I wonder if there is a brain scan capable of showing who your ultimate desire is.. that one person who nestles comfortably in your conscious and subconscious mind. Hmmm :>