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Such a tease.

April 28, 2011    |    0 COMMENT(S)

It's about time I wrote something on the class that has gotten me all worked up and sweaty every morning.

No, it's not Math 2. Although that gets my palms sweaty in a different kind of way - it's a different kind of rush when you're computing percent increases and VAT at seven o'clock in the freakin' morning. (I'd like to think of it as the "anti-rush" rush: the huge feeling of annoyance that takes over you for being awake so early in the morning that it eventually wakes you up because the irritation in itself already generates energy.)

What else is there to talk about? Striptease Aerobics. :>

First, the history: It really wasn't something I was expecting to take this summer. In fact, taking up PE wasn't even a part of the plan. My goal was to take at least one subject this summer: either Math 2 (which is my last GE course, and in fulfillment of the requirements for the Ateneo LAE application) or PI 100 (aka The Rizal Course.) I pre-enlisted in all available classes for Math 2 and PI 100 in the morning, not minding the huge demand and apparent aggressiveness of every other upperclassman out there. I needed a subject, period. About two days before the deadline of the pre-enlistment period, I was lurking around the pre-enlistment module, looking for what other subjects were available. I decided to check out the PEs, and lo and behold, they were offering Striptease, which I have always enlisted in since first year and never got. Obviously, the demand for this subject is intense - it's a for-women only class, and I bet every girl in the university was secretly raring to strut her stuff. I nonchalantly clicked on the "Enlist" button and never thought of it again.

Long story short: I got in. 25 slots. The demand 200+. If that's not "meant to be" I don't know what else is. It's the universe telling me it's my fate to take this PE before I graduate! (Or that it's my fate, as in, it's my fall-back job in the future when all else fails. Ha!)

Before I forget, it's a Striptease Aerobics class. Meaning, we don't literally rip off our clothes in class and bare our jelly-bellies as we grind to Lady Gaga. We dance using repetitive steps but with sensual movements. We touch and whip our hair, we stick out our butts, we crawl on the floor - we bite our lip with gusto. Even our warm-ups involve serious hip-thrusting action. But it's a dance.

We've spent the last few days putting together the combinations we've learned so far. We're getting better and better each day! At first, we only had sexy-shoulder-moving, now we wipe the floor with our backs and knees. I never thought I could sweat so much just by a few seemingly "simple" sexy moves. A three- to four-minute song could make your legs ache and your tongue beg for hydration. It's that intense. It's a total body workout, really.

My classmates and I joke that we have newfound respect for strippers now. It requires complete submission - you must not hesitate to spread your legs, slither on the floor, and rock your hips back and forth. We only dance for an hour or so each day and we feel like we hiked and climbed the Himalayas. For anyone to do it with precision every night for endless hours on end is very, very impressive, indeed! But all bastos hirits and possible anti-feminist notions aside, it is an important realization to discover how fierce and unstoppable the woman can be - we only have to unlock the potential of our minds and of course our bodies to come to terms with ourselves.

I have my insecurities about my body, I'll be the first to admit that. I hate that my front is well-endowed in my puson area and not somewhere north. I don't think I have the most bootylicious rear, and I have an underdeveloped torso fluidity. I'm the last person on earth, nay, the universe, to think that I'm sexy. (Thankfully, I think, The Boyfriend is the first, but that is irrelevant, and this is just me convincing myself to feel better. Ha. Ha. Hahaha. End rant.) But looking at myself in the mirrors of the dance studio, one hour everyday, every week, seeing myself swaying my hips in rhythm to Katy Perry's "E.T" - I can't help but feel hot. At least in those few precious moments, crawling to "Kiss me, ki-ki-kiss me," I feel that I deserve to be kissed, that I need to be kissed - and I can make you, just watch me throw my head back and caress my hair. It's a powerful feeling.

It takes a certain amount of courage to stand in front of a mirror, having my body staring back at me, while stopping the voice inside my head from having the urge to count the pounds and the inches. But once the song starts, that voice is tuned out by the desire of the flesh itself and I'm forced to move, to dance, to feel.

It's funny that a lot of the reactions I've been getting from friends range from jealousy to shock, but I'm surprised, even disgust. I guess sometimes it slips my mind that UP is typically more liberal than others, and that it takes a while for other people to welcome the idea of sexuality and sensuality as part of our everyday culture. (Hey, it's not everywhere you see a university offering Sekswalidad at Kasarian as electives and having a naked man for an iconic symbol.) This is what I will always be grateful for about our university - it widens our perspective on a lot of things we usually just put into boxes. I'm not surprised there is a stereotype that UP students are wild - but see, that's because society has such a boxed up notion of "wild." For most people, "wild" is the boy who openly discusses sex with his partner, "wild" is the professor who teaches his students how to use a condom, "wild" is a girl who opens her legs and grinds her hips up and down. Regardless of the circumstances, "wild" is wild for a lot of people - but why should it be a bad thing? If being "wild" makes you better understand your body, allows you to comprehend your choices, and gives you the opportunity to make the right decisions, then why shouldn't you be "wild"?

Going back, I'm obviously looking forward to the rest of the summer - this is the most fun I've had in a non-major class in a long time. It's about time PE started getting really interesting. And the best part about this? Hell, this is a practical skill I could actually use in the real world! Future husband should be pleased.


In a somewhat unrelated photo, this is UP during the summer.
It's our university's version of "snow." Tufts of cotton float in the air and sprinkle the grass with their immaculate whiteness. Beautiful, I tell you.
(I wish I took a better picture though; the campus is always a sight to behold.)


Thank God, I'm in UP :>



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Absence makes the heart grow indifferent.

April 22, 2011    |    0 COMMENT(S)

If there's one thing I'm surprised I can do quite well, it's detaching. Growing up, I've always thought I had separation anxiety issues - I would cry when my mom leaves for work, I would hang on to my grandmother's legs after every visit. I clearly remember one phase in my kindergarten life where my mom and I had this little routine: she'd bring me to the gate, I'd walk about thirty steps away from her, then I'd run back crying and wiping my snot on her pencil skirt. Then she'd bring me to the gate again, and I'd wave her goodbye before I finally lose her in the bustle of students running late and sisters returning to school after mass. Looking back, that would've been evident signs of the Cannot Let Go complex.

But when I ruminate on all the things I've had to let go of in the last few years, I'm (pleasantly) surprised that it didn't take much of a struggle. For someone who used to hold on to things until I got rope burn, I was able to walk away without devastating injuries. Yes, the pain was there, and of course I felt confused and resentful. Yet there was always that window for release - there was never a "I cannot do that" moment. They were always, "I'd rather not do it, of course, but what the hell, it's not like I can't." Which I think explains why giving The Cold War has become my expertise. And which some people mistake as strength, when all it really is (I think for me, at least) is indifference.

Yes, indifference. I have learned to become indifferent to situations I do not want and people I prefer to not handle. I don't know if it's the adult thing to do, or even the decent one at that, but it gets me through. Sometimes, it's this uncaring, uninterested attitude that actually gets things done and makes me feel more satisfied with how things fall into place.


What the hell, this is just me justifying my apparent lack of interest for the Internet lately. I can't explain the irony behind my detachment from this evil, time-consuming, soul-eating digital cloud right when summer started. But for what it's worth, it's starting to seem like my summer isn't going to be wasted staring at the screen. And I don't mind that at all.

But maybe a few days from now things will change, who knows? Maybe after the Holy Week, I'd feel the need to click the Chrome logo again, when classes resume and get more interesting. For the sake of the curious, I'm taking summer classes to finally rid myself of the remaining GE subjects left in our curriculum: Math 2 (Practical Math, where we compute electric bills and VAT) and - drumroll please - my last ever PE in my college life: Striptease.

Oh yes, how could I possibly not write about that? :>


In the meantime, I shall go because my iPod is beckoning. Warpaint's Exquisite Corpse and The Fool, and Rumer's Seasons of My Soul have been on loop for the last couple of days. Ah, I don't regret trading my Internet hours for that.



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There are too many words in my head right now.

April 12, 2011    |    0 COMMENT(S)

<div style="text-align: justify;"> I started the day worrying like hell because I found out The Boy<i>nospace</i>friend has measles. It's driving me crazy because of course, natural girlfriend tendencies kick in and I want to take care of aforementioned boy, but due to the unexplainable stamina of my immune system way back in high school, I've been unable to catch the virus despite numerous classmates riding the German measles bandwagon. I'm going to take comfort in the fact that at least even my physical body has always been a nonconformist, but I digress and it's beside the point. This makes me a very unlikely candidate to take care of said boy and thus, also requires a two to three-week period of no contact with him. I am alright with us not seeing each other, given that CAL students don't particularly have legitimate reasons to go gallivanting to the Engineering building, and that we've spent longer weeks apart due to another type of disease, aka <i>academics</i>. I also do not believe that my mere presence will drive the virus away, although it might make them squirm and feel guilty a little bit if they see how awfully pretty I am. (Ha!) But then, at the end of the day, I want to be there, just because, and I can't, even though I'm willing. I can't. I'm helpless. And it sucks.</div> <div style="text-align: justify;"> <br /> </div> <div style="text-align: justify;"> I was ready to hate the universe again for conspiring against me for the third time in a row this week. But then, it proved me wrong somehow, and I can't say I'm not glad.</div> <div style="text-align: justify;">
This afternoon, I had a chat with one of my roommates over donuts and a yogurt drink. Honestly, it's been a while since I last opened up to a stranger - by stranger, I mean a person I'm not exactly "friends" with yet. And because the most we've ever shared about each other is our mutual love/hate relationship with the university that bleeds maroon, I can say she still fell under the general category of "stranger" up until today. It was a pleasant surprise getting myself to be vulnerable again with new people - the last time I honestly felt like this was when I was trying my best to bond with blockmates during my freshman year in college. Because we're somehow compelled to be friends (because of our close proximity to each other), I was afraid that if we don't mesh, I'd be stuck with a person I'd want to run away from again. But as soon as we opened our mouths and shared our opinions about spineless girls and being spoiled by our parents, I knew right there and then that we would be friends. Good friends, in fact. It was such a nice, simple, comfortable chat - who knew we would get along so, so well? There is something to be said about such conversations with people who aren't really close to you yet; there is that magic that unfolds when you first begin to see yourself clicking with someone you've just met. Maybe it's the platonic parallel of the romantic ignition couples claim to have over that cliched notion of "love at first sight" but this afternoon, I just really felt at home. And that's more than what you could ask for, really, in someone you've just recently met. It's the kind of vulnerability I no longer feel (but also don't resent) with friends I've known for a long time, because that's something I will never have with them anymore. I guess I just missed that, and I'm glad this afternoon the universe decided it wouldn't be such a bad day for that.

That being said though, there is still nothing more comforting than the presence of a best friend, a person who can see right through you regardless of the layers of clothing you wear or the amount of pretentious theories you claim to believe in. My very, very good friend (who I believe has transcended best friend-dom and deserves something more than that hackneyed label, but that's another post altogether) who is dorming a few blocks away from me texted me and invited me to join her for dinner. This person is admittedly the one friend I couldn't have possibly survived college without - we've shared the same heartaches and we've talked about practically everything - and of course, I couldn't say no to her. Our talks would always range from the shallow (how funny it was that random high school batchmates were hooking up) to the most profound (how we draw the line between being moral and being religious) but it never gets old, it never gets tiring. Usually we end up talking about the same things but there's just an unexplainable kind of relief knowing that we will always see eye-to-eye and understand each other even in the most ridiculous of situations. The night almost always ends with an "assessment" of our relationships, just because after all social, cultural, superficial, and existential topics has been exhausted, that's the only interesting thing left to talk about, and every time it ends up with us being on exactly the same place - whether happy and contented, or confused and conflicted, we're always on the same page. It's funny and ironic and incredible that there are people like her I can feel an infinite affinity to and it's something I'm assured I will never lose. The universe just reiterated my belief in that tonight and I'm grateful.

I'm not really sure what's the point I wanted to make when I started typing; I'm not even sure if I do have a point. I just initially wanted to weed away the remaining thoughts that have been lingering inside my head so that I can finally get to sleep. Then again, I've always been a blind believer of things happening for a reason, and though I can't find the technical means to defend that right now, I know somehow, the universe has its reasons for making this day turn out the way it did. Maybe it wanted to make me feel that I'm not alone, maybe it wanted to reassure me that I'm not as indifferent or as apathetic as I think myself to be. Or maybe the universe just thinks I could use a good amount of discourse today, both internal and external, and it conveniently arranged my day to accommodate for that. Whatever your reasons may be, thank you, universe, for making it up to me somehow. May your kindness never cease - or at least until this week, you know I'm excited as fuck for my PE class.

Now that that's out of my head, I can finally get to sleep.


(Or not. I just remembered I'll have to Wiki German measles again.)



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Forever.

April 8, 2011    |    0 COMMENT(S)

I'm not a fan of the word "forever" - I don't like using it in my essays, stories, and even my very few (and lame) attempts at poetry on secret parts of my notebooks and/or scratch papers. The last time I used it as a punctuation to an excessive sense of emotion was for my (still undying, albeit now more quiet) love for Nathan Scott, the character from One Tree Hill I unabashedly obsessed over. Other than that, I'm afraid it hasn't found my way into my regular "serious" vocabulary since.

"Forever" requires - no, more like compels - a certain kind of commitment: that of a lifetime. Forever. Eternity. For all of time. It's supposed to be held in esteem, I suppose, and I guess there's nobility in that, especially for relationships (not necessarily romantic) that truly value "forever" and stick to it. But what I don't like is how after the unexpected "expiration" of the word, it gets blatantly rebuked and upbraided. "I thought you said forever! What happened to our forever!?" - aside from the very obvious melodramatic overtones, I hate that no matter how true the sentiment behind these statements may be, well, it was founded on unrealistic grounds. Really? You expected someone to stay with you for all of time and not stop loving you? Really?

It's not that I'm such a jaded, cynical bitch who feels deprived and unloved. My parents still adore each other after 28 years of being boyfriend-girlfriend/husband-wife (HAHA) and I have a boy I can attach the suffix "-friend" to with no spaces whom I love with all my heart and soul shoes (*moment of cheese*). But I don't know, I'm just not comfortable with the whole idea of it. I don't like pushing someone or something towards that expectation when in all likelihood, it's going to be (not impossible but) very difficult to uphold.

Basically, what I'm trying to say is for me to consider anything as worthy of my "forever" is definitely something. But right now, I've just affirmed my conviction that yes, indeed, despite my pretty logical line of reasoning, there is one thing I am willing to believe in; there is something I am willing to hold on to for all of eternity.

Forever 21.


Yes my mom and I went to the opening of Forever 21 at SM Makati today and the whole time I was trying to control my hyperventilation. I've only been to the Megamall branch about three times before (the first time was on my 19th birthday) and to say that it was a delight would be the biggest understatement of the century. Just looking at the accessories rack with all those earrings- ahhhh, don't get me started on the gushing. (Let's just say that their big hoop earrings, flirty floral finds and reasonably priced tanks get me weak in the knees.)

Unfortunately, it's too out of the way for me because we live in the South so trips to this store were reserved for special occasions and planned in advance. So imagine my surprise when one particularly sullen Friday afternoon, as I descended the escalator of SM Makati to meet up with my mom (we usually meet up at the Ayala station so we could have dinner with my dad and go back to Paranaque together), this huge gigantic poster of the unmistakable brand welcomed me like a long lost child. It was love at first, second, third, every sight. They were everywhere and it required herculean effort to conceal my squeals. Every Friday since then, we've anticipated its opening and finally, finally - it was here! Now my Fridays are just about to get a little bit sweeter.

I'll probably post pictures of some of my purchases soon (particularly my earrings) because I figured it wouldn't be too bad to share and quite frankly, this blog deserves a break from its usual text-heavy style.

In the meantime, allow me to reconsider my stand on the "F" word while I look adoringly at my new dress.



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Growing Sentences.

April 6, 2011    |    0 COMMENT(S)

(1)
So I walked into the room and it reeked of us.

(2)
So I walked into the room and it reeked of pizza and beer, with a little bit of sunshine spying on us.

(3)
So I walked into the room but it reeked of leftover pizza and beer. The sun is creeping through my blinds, like an intruder spying on my sheets that smelled of us.

(4)
So I walked into the room hoping to get some sleep but it reeked of leftover pizza and beer. It's a very humid Tuesday afternoon, and the sun is creeping through my blinds, spying on my sheets that always smelled of us.

(5)
So I walked into the room hoping to get some sleep but it reeked of leftover pizza and beer, like it usually does on a Friday night, except it's a very humid Tuesday afternoon with the sun creeping through my blinds like an intruder spying on us, except there wasn't even that anymore, only your toothbrush and my sheets that would not stop smelling of us.


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