Do-overs and realizations (Feat. Sara Bareilles & Iggy Azalea)

So I just poured my morning rants out in a very unpremeditated manner via my previous blog post and I thought it was not only an impromptu but also, poorly constructed. Maybe I should just quit hitting "publish" every time I got to let go of something, eh?

After that blog post (which probably won't be read by anyone anyway, so what the fuss is this fuss about?) I knew I still had to go on with my life, of course. I still had an accounting lecture to attend to, so after lunch, I bathed and prepared myself. It's a Saturday and on such days, we do not wear our uniform.

Do-over 

Imagine the horror that comes with deciding on what to wear. Ladies, hear me? I know, right?

Bitch, my closet isn't as tidy as yours. Shut up.

I have found myself in the situation where I really really really like a certain outfit. I don't want to sound vain, but I have this thing about wearing my clothes repeatedly - it makes me really annoyed with myself. But since I really really really liked that shirt, I wouldn't care if I hang myself for wearing it again. And then I just got tired of it. And then I see it as garbage. 

So I move on to the next favorite shirt that I managed to add up to the garbage category. Then some more. Until the only wearable, un-garbagey thing in my closet is a shirt that I didn't even liked in the first place. In the end I decided on wearing a tank top and a cardigan. Very chic.

Realization

I realized that I have a pathetic policy about wearing out my clothes. Not only because I get to turn my favorite clothes into garbage but also because my closet is a breathing entity. 

Yeah, maybe next week I will organize it.

It practically has a life of its own and I won't be surprised if I learn that there's a closet monster somewhere in that huge pit of fabric.

Do-over

After playing dress-up, I applied makeup. Whats a girl to do? (Never mind the hair, my hair reflects my state of mind.) I find happiness in makeup. Tell me I am not the only one.

And so I applied and removed and applied and removed. Just because I love the glitters and the colors and the effect on my hopeless face.

Realization

I am going to school so I better not make any smoky-eye and dramatic contouring. Besides, I would look funny wearing that much makeup when all I had to do was sit for four hours and listen to the professor and write and listen and not be appreciated for aesthetics. It's accounting, what would you expect?

Do-over

Just before I head out the door, I received a text from my friend, Joy. She was asking what time I should be in school, because she's clingy like that. Kidding. She just goes to school every other day, so we need to catch-up on things. After the crying episode that morning, I realized that there's no sense in carrying the depression over until the end of the day.

During the ride to school, I felt better. It was sunny but not hot, and the weather is nice. Iggy Azalea was asking who dat, who dat that do dat, do dat. Because she be the I-G-G-Y and she'll put her name in bold. She's fancy like that.

Realization

My music is playing on shuffle. I didn't even realize that Sara Bareilles is making me teary-eyed, as if I was listening to a Nicholas Sparks audiobook, when she was just singing about a really old city in the center of Queens.

Sara, why are you doing this to me? 

I don't know why I cried, okay?

Realization

I guess I just feel like my life is going way too fast for me, and the only way I can cope up is to vent it out. But of course, being the weirdo that I am, I can't find the way to express my deepest, darkest issues. Even I can't enumerate them myself, so I can try to fix them up, at least for my own peace of mind. I just can't, so my brain just says "Cry. Wallow in self-pity. Eat ice cream. Repeat."

Do-over

Maybe I should just accept the fact that I am losing it. Or I am near losing it. Who cares? The next time I feel like crying, maybe I would just watch Armageddon again. And again. And again. Or The Notebook. Or The Last Song. Or all of them. Then I could just blame it all on the movie. Or movies. Or whatever.

You said, remember that life is

Not meant to be wasted

We can always be chasing the sun

So fill up your lungs and just run

But always be chasing the sun!

And all we can do is try. 

-Sara Bareilles, Chasing the Sun

Twenty. (THE FEELS)

I just got home from school and I was just waiting for the clock to strike 12. It feels like such a pathetic thing to do, to wait for the first minute of your birthday. My veins are filled with caffeine, it's the final exams for me and I need to fuel myself with enough energy to last me a whole day of accounting tomorrow -- and tonight, and next night and on Saturday, for that matter. I thought it would just be fitting to waste my time on ranting before the birthday greetings surge in.

I spent the third to the last hour of my teenage years in a waiting shed under the pouring rain, listening to the noise of Manila. There was a boy from UE who was looking at me, he was also probably waiting for a jeep. At first I wanted to glare at him and give him the "You're such a creep-o" look, but I thought better of it and just let it pass. It was the most boring hour of my life.

The second to the last hour was spent on traffic. The woman sitting beside me was asleep. She was leaning on my left shoulder, and normally I wouldn't have let her. Under some I-don't-know circumstances, I thought there was nothing wrong with it so I just stared on the floor. There was a moment when I wanted to bring out my auditing theory book and continue my review, but then I snapped out of it as immediately as I tried. I forgot that I would have to read the book itself, and the lighting was so dim so it's impossible. I ended up thinking of my lolo and how much I miss him.

The last hour was spent on more traffic and some rain. And some dinner alone and some blog posting. And some watching TV and some checking the mail. And some tweeting and facebook-ing.Those three hours pretty much conclude my teenage years. I'm twenty. Where did life go?On a brighter note, HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MEEEEEEE. :) Okay, back to the books. 

xo.//c

Cat Patrick | Revived

I don't regret my decision of starting my sembreak by reading this book. It's an easy read, amazingly fast-paced story that got me engaged from the first up to the last chapter. The plot has unexpected twists, and even though the plot is pretty simple, it has points that give a brief coverage on loss and death.

***

As a little girl, Daisy Appleby was killed in a school bus crash. Moments after the accident, she was brought back to life.

A secret government agency has developed a drug called Revive that can bring people back from the dead, and Daisy Appleby, a test subject, has been Revived fiv

e times in fifteen years. Daisy takes extraordinary risks, knowing that she can beat death, but each new death also means a new name, a new city, and a new life. When she meets Matt McKean, Daisy begins to question the moral implications of Revive, and as she discovers the agency's true goals, she realizes she's at the center of something much larger — and more sinister — than she ever imagined .[via Goodreads]

***

The best thing about this book is the heroine. Daisy is a voice that you could relate to. She grows all throughout the story, and it's amazing how strong yet naive she could be. All her life, she's been living with a fake family, being watched by someone they called "God" (the creator of the drug) and being advised to stay
away from too much attention, bees, and more attention. Who wouldn't get tired of those? So there she went, doing what a normal teenager would do: rant about her life and how she wants to get settled in one place and live a normal life.

Her idea of death is shallow, having died five times and knowing that she could be revived by a drug. Only until she gets to meet a real friend who is going to die soon, but can't be revived. Oh, the irony of life. and a boyfriend who happens to be her friend's brother. And he wants her to steal a vial of the drug.

Weak point: the ending. It's a stand-alone novel alright, they'll provide enough answers to questions that may develop as you go along the story. It's just that the ending is not... ending enough. I am not satisfied with how quick she laid all those epilogue-ish things. There's something lacking, but it's not something that you'll think has a book two in the making, either. Okay, I don't make sense.

Just read. It's cool.

xx.