A Russian Roulette sprung in a sherbet bang in the end of this week. But the bullets didn't start ripping until yesterday, only the zip guns and the revolvers got the willies this Thursday. Friday was just the nitroglycerin-induced victim of it all.
Yesterday, a bang that condemned an explosion as big as a tri-state pulled in the dust. First up, the release of Dallas #4! I still couldn't download/buy it yet. They don't have it on the shelves here in the Philippines, and they don't have it on the grapevine yet, but I can definitely wait. What a beauty it will be.
Second to kill the factory, a church devotional at CSWCD. A great one too, I must add. Their analogy of Herod's multiple consequences of his cruel heart were just outstanding. A favorite, also mainly because the message was given by the dad of a friend of mine, and he had John Lennon glasses. Yowza, man. And this guy who gave the message (George, I must call him) is also the groom in the wedding anniversary I shall be taking photos and designing all the plans out for.
And the result that killed about two-thirds of the whole tri-state ka-blam--Mr. Special Somebody.
I didn't even expect him to be there, I mean, he was just wearing his awesome usual clothes, with his cool bag and his cool laptop and his cool glasses, and smiling like I usually see in Gee, but it came from... this boy. And he was just so calm and cool and all that, and after a hug, after a comment on how awesome his desktop on his laptop was (Batman logo, for the win indeed), I got to sit with him and his sister (a very good friend of mine) and shared laughs and side comments along with George's message.
It's just...he was someone I never not even in my wildest ideas, thought of him during the entire devo. I never expected him to even last for a minute there, but he stayed for four hours. With me.
And...well, even if he does consider me now, and I now know he does, as at least a little friend, to smile at him and be the little kid who just looks at him, like another big brother. He'll know someday he's special to me. He always was, even when he didn't know me and even when I didn't know him. It was a plan for me to love, and it will be a plan for him to know.
And the wildcard of the day, the tri-bomb topped with a dimpled cherry for all to smother in, American Idol, Season 8, episode 14 and its chocolate cream and strawberry sprinkles exploding in flavors of Adam Lambert, Allison Iraheta, Kris Allen, Megan Corkerey and Norman Gentle/Nick Mitchell.
Adam Lambert--definitely a heart-breaking machine, this boy. When I first heard Satisfaction, my dad and I hated the song and treated it as forgettable and an erroneous addition to the dossier of The Rolling Stones' popular songs. Such an infamous song turned into a swoon-fest when Adam switched and spurred it from its cobwebs to galvanized silver.
And... well, as wrong as this may sound, he became extremely... as weird as this may come from me... sexy, in ways more than one. And I don't mean by just the voice. I've bought the voice, now if I'm talking body-wise, oh man... I could just go all day being in ka-hoots, man. Seriously. Whew hoo. Wolf-whistle, anyone?
And Allison Iraheta. I was the most surprised from her this week, I never thought someone this good, that good, could not even be mentioned or featured in any past Idol episode! She was brilliant, against Heart's Alone, one of my favorite songs. Heart is just one of those female bands I have to love. No other female band (except for Alecia Moore, but she's just a one-man... woman) has countered them. No other female band has been able to top their monster songs, they're brilliant, Allison is brilliant. I hope she definitely makes it to a very latter part of the end.
Way to outsmart the day, Thursday. Friday was more subtle, not much screaming and hyperactive indulgence as the day before, but it was a good, blessed day. All work was done, the death of the day has gone, and the birth of the sun and the Saturday will come. All in a rhyme's work.
Feb 27, 2009
Feb 22, 2009
"Was there all along."
Ally can be such a geekozoid.
Life has reached its potentials, days will reach its ends, and Muse will come crashing down in me, I always be the victim to forever miss it so.
But assuredly, I'll soon miss this month, for the reasons that it was when I realized many random things.
One; Dreams can actually be the pinnacle of your talks with friends (most especially when with Annetta).
Every talk I had with Annetta actually was mainly focusing on our dreams, like when I dreamt Jared Leto fainted in a 30STM concert in the Philippines, and we had to save him from his dire heart attack, and Annetta's dream of toymakers attempting to kill a relative of hers or the tiger that bit her in the leg. Weird dreams, definitely. Never will be as weird as my dream of Hazel and Cha-cha doing the hokey-pokey. That was weird, man.
Two; Strepsils are not always the answer.
I've taken about 20 since the 17th, and still my sore throat is not subsiding. I wake up in agony every four in the morning from it. It's just the worst sore throat you could ever have, because it's usually supposed to wear off in a few days, but this has been ongoing for a week, and it still feels like bones are corroding my tonsils. Really freaking painful. If you wish to get sick, never seek the counsel of a sore throat.
Three; Deviantart loves photography more than art.
If you want a DA account, you better be really good at drawing, or just have a knack at photography. I had an art account there, and it's sailing fine, it's just that it's not doing as explosively well as my photography account. I just got 51 views and 7 favorites from just one photo in the boundary of only a DAY. And Annetta's business on DA is booming as well, but especially in her photography. More like Deviantphoto, not Deviantart.
Four; People who you could relate to the most go to you the most.
I've noticed that especially in church, since in my Youth Ministry, everyone is divided by their preferences--there is the girl side, the boy side, the stereotypics, the best friends, just everyone is divided, and I always become alone. I only have probably one friend, who likes art, hates music of pop genres and the overrated kind, also a comic book collector (though he prefers manga), and likes horror movies. Hm. Too coincidental?
Five; I've first started blogging on Quote: The Dreamer since the start of this month.
And it was a good one month of having it up. It's been my favorite blog to post on since The BLANK Factor. I'll miss that amazing one month of unstoppable memories and the metaphorical roller-coaster of wherevers, whenevers, whatevers, howevers, and forevers. Plus I could jusr re-read what I post here, and remember what was on American Idol last week. Hah, that good?
Six; My thirst for writing has been fed once again.
I miss writing, really I do. I haven't been this pepped up for writing since I wrote out my The Amazing Eyeless stories, which are currently on hiatus. But I never had a time to be natural or free with my writing or been expressive with writing. Not even in journals or diaries, I never was as expressive as now. Days now, everytime I'm done with homework, I can never hit the hay with a bang unless I have done a single post here. Never.
Seven; I could get obsessed to the point that it becomes annoying.
I hate growing up. I miss my old self, who would stay calm against a boy. But when against Mr. Special Somebody, Gerard Way, Jared Leto, Jack White, or Adam Lambert, I am not the girl I used to be. Now, I either talk way too fast, or draw until I just sigh and admit it to myself. Before I didn't even have someone in my head for days or hours or weeks. Puberty is a horrible woman, and never talk to her once she steps into you.
Eight; When evil rains, it's family time.
Truly a bonding moment. At least once a week, either my brother or I get sickeningly sad, and when our parents notice, they just send us to them right away for opening up, and talking. After all, if any rule was misinterpreted in our family, it can never be: "When we all fall, we all fall together, and hope our dreams will never die." My brother usually is my ally in such. I could never know a better spiritual adviser, truly.
Nine; Sometimes, when you are in Rome, do as the Filipinos do.
When fitting in, I've found out the best way to fit in is by being the alien in the group of martians. Just being the foreign corpuscle in the gellatinous body of well-beings gets you to where you were all along--being yourself, naturally. And even if you don't speak out of what your cerebral neurons can capacitate, you shine through even what you do and become the Filipino among the cadaverous Romans after all.
I could consider myself educated in the month of February.
Though there are some important memories I could forget ever happened.
So goodbye February. I hardly knew you.
Life has reached its potentials, days will reach its ends, and Muse will come crashing down in me, I always be the victim to forever miss it so.
But assuredly, I'll soon miss this month, for the reasons that it was when I realized many random things.
One; Dreams can actually be the pinnacle of your talks with friends (most especially when with Annetta).
Every talk I had with Annetta actually was mainly focusing on our dreams, like when I dreamt Jared Leto fainted in a 30STM concert in the Philippines, and we had to save him from his dire heart attack, and Annetta's dream of toymakers attempting to kill a relative of hers or the tiger that bit her in the leg. Weird dreams, definitely. Never will be as weird as my dream of Hazel and Cha-cha doing the hokey-pokey. That was weird, man.
Two; Strepsils are not always the answer.
I've taken about 20 since the 17th, and still my sore throat is not subsiding. I wake up in agony every four in the morning from it. It's just the worst sore throat you could ever have, because it's usually supposed to wear off in a few days, but this has been ongoing for a week, and it still feels like bones are corroding my tonsils. Really freaking painful. If you wish to get sick, never seek the counsel of a sore throat.
Three; Deviantart loves photography more than art.
If you want a DA account, you better be really good at drawing, or just have a knack at photography. I had an art account there, and it's sailing fine, it's just that it's not doing as explosively well as my photography account. I just got 51 views and 7 favorites from just one photo in the boundary of only a DAY. And Annetta's business on DA is booming as well, but especially in her photography. More like Deviantphoto, not Deviantart.
Four; People who you could relate to the most go to you the most.
I've noticed that especially in church, since in my Youth Ministry, everyone is divided by their preferences--there is the girl side, the boy side, the stereotypics, the best friends, just everyone is divided, and I always become alone. I only have probably one friend, who likes art, hates music of pop genres and the overrated kind, also a comic book collector (though he prefers manga), and likes horror movies. Hm. Too coincidental?
Five; I've first started blogging on Quote: The Dreamer since the start of this month.
And it was a good one month of having it up. It's been my favorite blog to post on since The BLANK Factor. I'll miss that amazing one month of unstoppable memories and the metaphorical roller-coaster of wherevers, whenevers, whatevers, howevers, and forevers. Plus I could jusr re-read what I post here, and remember what was on American Idol last week. Hah, that good?
Six; My thirst for writing has been fed once again.
I miss writing, really I do. I haven't been this pepped up for writing since I wrote out my The Amazing Eyeless stories, which are currently on hiatus. But I never had a time to be natural or free with my writing or been expressive with writing. Not even in journals or diaries, I never was as expressive as now. Days now, everytime I'm done with homework, I can never hit the hay with a bang unless I have done a single post here. Never.
Seven; I could get obsessed to the point that it becomes annoying.
I hate growing up. I miss my old self, who would stay calm against a boy. But when against Mr. Special Somebody, Gerard Way, Jared Leto, Jack White, or Adam Lambert, I am not the girl I used to be. Now, I either talk way too fast, or draw until I just sigh and admit it to myself. Before I didn't even have someone in my head for days or hours or weeks. Puberty is a horrible woman, and never talk to her once she steps into you.
Eight; When evil rains, it's family time.
Truly a bonding moment. At least once a week, either my brother or I get sickeningly sad, and when our parents notice, they just send us to them right away for opening up, and talking. After all, if any rule was misinterpreted in our family, it can never be: "When we all fall, we all fall together, and hope our dreams will never die." My brother usually is my ally in such. I could never know a better spiritual adviser, truly.
Nine; Sometimes, when you are in Rome, do as the Filipinos do.
When fitting in, I've found out the best way to fit in is by being the alien in the group of martians. Just being the foreign corpuscle in the gellatinous body of well-beings gets you to where you were all along--being yourself, naturally. And even if you don't speak out of what your cerebral neurons can capacitate, you shine through even what you do and become the Filipino among the cadaverous Romans after all.
I could consider myself educated in the month of February.
Though there are some important memories I could forget ever happened.
So goodbye February. I hardly knew you.
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