Howdy!

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my co-workers were chatting about the oxford comma on the twitters. best response-quote: “‘Dedicated to my parents, Ayn Rand and God.’”

It’s like being so drunk and you keep on puking. You swear never to drink again. And in this mushiness case, you swear never to love again or even forget the very person who broke your heart. But just the sight of him makes you forget everything that you swore. Just the sight of him, makes you so goddamn happy you feel like you’ve met your celebrity crush, or even better, oblivious to all the heartbreak you felt. And yes, soon enough you’ll be alcoholic again. Yes, damn you, Life. Damn you. But do carry on. We love being alcoholic (P.S. That’s metaphorically. Love, An Alcohol Virgin)

(Just a random thought I typed after reading this.)

• Me: you didn't even get the "rag" at your first guess
• Friend: HOW EVER WAS THAT A RAG!!!
• Friend: it was a brownish thing in front of a red thing!!!
• Me: don't you put a rag in front of your door?!
• Me: IT'S A DOOR
• Friend: that wasn't a door!!
• Me: it is!! it has doorknob
• Friend: was a red rectangle with a black circle somewhere
• Me: that's a doorknob
• Friend: it wasn't a doorknob
• Friend: it was a black circle among a red square
• Me: it is. don't argue with the artist
• Friend: for vanguardist art it was very good
• Friend: for a door it was really bad

I have met a lot of people from the internet. It might be weird for others (only to those who live under a rock and don’t often use internet probably), but in a way, some of my internet friends know me more than those I know in “offline life” (I refuse to call it real life because if it is real life, what does that make the internet? Fake life? Which is not at all).

Kyoko of Brain Food talks about. And damn, she talks about it well. 

brain-food:

I mean, after blogging here for four years I’ve maintained a high enough privacy fence between me and the internet world. Granted, i’m very open about how I feel about certain things and certain people, and for the most part nobody is named and I like keeping faces off here. But when my real life friends find my blog, it complicates things. Not in a bad way complicated, it just opens up doors that I wanted to remain closed. 

With them, things are simple. I’m simple. I hang out with all these young twenty-two year old skater/surfer guys and all these really artistic young women and honestly all we do is just skate and hang out. We don’t really talk about each other’s feelings, we don’t dabble into one another’s family issues, and when we hang out nothing else really exists. Does that make sense? With them it’s like doing yoga for me. They know what I do, they know what i’m into but we don’t get into it. And I love that. I love that with my friends outside of the internet I can just fuck around, skate, surf, bullshit, have fun, and see them that following weekend, or for lunch that week. The only expectation they have of me is showing up ready to skate. 

Here, i’m me. Everything on the inside, everything I am, everything that creates me is this blog. It’s written all over in my blog entries. I always said if you wanted to know me,  find my tumblr. But if you wanted to enjoy me, meet me in real life. You would think I would want people to have the best of both worlds, to have access to both knowing and enjoying my accompany. But its a lot of work. I’m not perfect, and most of the time, especially off the computer, I don’t want to talk about things. Mainly, my feelings. 

So when my friends from the non internet world start reading who I am on the internet world, they want to start talking about things. They want to connect deeper and on a different level, and although I can appreciate the closeness, its something I didn’t want.  The simple time I became appreciative of and helped ground me as a person, starts becoming complicated, and expectations start getting raised. And believe me, I realize how selfish that sounds, but its the truth.

WHAT SEXINESS IS THIS?

#cersei #jonSnow #Daenerys #gameOfThrones

omghaoareuorueoreorjeofoekeore

Jaqen H’ghar of Game Of Thrones.

Thank you Wallaenerys!

sodamnrelatable:

via sodamnrelatable

Inspired by (albeit envious of) my friend’s skill in making short stories with unpredictable endings, I tried my hand on fiction-writing. And of course, this was edited by my friend (I’m his editor, so we just sort of exchanged roles for this one). We both liked it. We do hope you like it too.

What makes someone special isn’t the fact that she is treated by someone in a different way than he treats others, because let’s face it, you don’t know how he treats everyone and it’s none of your business anyway. 

The real measurement of being “special” is how he treats you and you alone. He can decide not to cheer you up, not to give you attention, not to make you laugh, not to listen to your monologue, not to give a damn about you, not to acknowledge your existence,  but he doesn’t. The next time you feel special, proceeded by the doubt of “But am I the only one he’s being like this to?”, try controlling your thinking however how hard it is. 

Maybe an “I’m glad he gave me part of his time today” would suffice. 

• Me: You know you remind me of a book character...

Hold them very close, and let them go.

I need more work where I can put in my crazy ideas and opinions. Like this. This is part of the article I was writing. It’s rare, because usually the articles my client needs are more technical, so there’s no much room there for crazy ideas and opinions and humor.

Many people have opinion about this. Some say cell phone decreases humans’ social skills, while others believe it actually increases our social points (Now I just made that seem like we’re characters in The Sims). Some of those who are on the side of Cell-Phone-Rots-Our-Social-Skills complain about how some people fake a call just to avoid human interaction when they are surrounded by people. To which someone half-jokingly replied “I play Fruit Ninja to avoid human interaction.” But can we really blame cell phone for this? And if you avoid human interaction, is that something sociologists should be alarmed about? They should not. Being sociologists, they would understand that not everyone actually wants to interact every minute of their life. There are different kinds of people after all. And personally, I would prefer a Fruit Ninja-player beside me than someone who can’t stop complaining about the ugliness of the world and keeps bugging me about other things I don’t really care about. And yes, I do play Fruit Ninja.

• Lee: Should I still attend the mass?
• J: Don't bother. You're going to hell anyway.

I don’t remember when exactly. Probably a month ago, I dyed my hair blue. Or at least I wanted it to be blue. The result was blue-green and I wasn’t happy. But people told me it’s pretty. Add to that the enjoyment I get seeing people get weirded out when they get a glance at my weird hair color. Strangers would give me a second look and I know exactly why. This helped me understand more why some people want to dye their hair, get a tattoo or have a piercing. They want something that will make people look at them and knowing that people are looking at them because of something they put on their body puts them at ease. They don’t get paranoid (What’s wrong with me? Why are they looking at me? What’s weird about me?). They have control over what people will notice about them. AND it can also be a way to control how people will describe you. You never know but people might stop describing you as That-Guy-Who-Is-Stupid/ugly/short/black/deformed/fat/craven etc. Now you can be That-Dude-With-Weird Hairdye/tattoo/piercing. 

Eventually, the color faded, making it look like green then yellow-green and I knew soon enough it would be yellow/blonde, which is the base of the hairdye. I got bored of it. I wanted to do something with my hair again. This time, I wanted to cut it short. I have long hair, so you can imagine how hard it is to decide which hairstyle I should get. Thankfully, there’s a friend who gave me photos of short haircut. The first photo shows a korean girl with short hair. She has small face but I don’t, so I was so scared to try it. The second one is Titan A.E.’s Akima with long bangs in front. It’s cute, but then again, I wasn’t sure if it would suit me. He assured me that it would. But that’s him. I think even if I shave my head off, he’d still find me pretty. On second thought, not; he’d tell me straight away that I’m ugly with shaved head because he’s actually honest. He always is. I asked another friend if it would look good on me and she said yes and told me that actually, her hair right now’s a bit like that. I was still not sure. Since I might get the haircut he suggested, I asked him if I’d get a prize if I get that haircut. He asked for what I wanted but what I wanted was impossible for now. Other than that, I don’t know what I want. He told me he’d just give me something. What it might be, I don’t have any idea. Nevertheless, a prize is a good motivation.

With my sister, I went to the salon. Already walking towards the place, I told my sister “I’m scared!” while pretending to have a frightened face. Once in there, I showed the two photos I got from my friend. The stylist easily understood what I wanted to do with my hair. 

Then the haircutting started. 

With one swift movement of the scissor, my long hair, or at least what used to be mine, was already in the hand of the hairstylist. He got a rubberband and tied it. I was calm, but inside my head, I was already being violent (“My hair! Give me back my hair! Oh, I’ll miss you.”) Then I remembered Ate Xtin and the time I asked why was she not cutting her long hair. “I want it to grow longer, then I’ll donate it to an organization that supports cancer patients. They can make a wig out of it.” I should have done that. Next time I will. 

Minutes later the cutting’s done. I loved the result. It’s exactly what I wanted and more. Although the supposedly long bangs in front aren’t long much since I have shorter bangs even before the cut. 

All in all, I liked it. There’s only one thing I want to complain about. It’s the guy who blowdried my hair. Although it didn’t really hurt, I couldn’t help  thinking this:

That thing near my hair? It’s called face. And I would appreciate it if you would be careful not to hit it repeatitively with the butt of that huge hairblower you’re using to dry and style my hair. Thank you very much.

Chewy candies from qwertee (Taken with instagram)