Saturday, December 13, 2014

An Ode to the Girl Who Always Wanted to Become a Plain Housewife

Meh. Wala ka naming alam na gawaing bahay so you’ll never be a good housewife”, I told you once while talking about how you see yourself in the near future.

Gusto ko yung mayamang housewife na right after maghatid sa school ng mga bata, shopping agad or spa. Dapat kasi meron namang katulong” , you argued in reply.

That right there is the reason why I think you’ll never be a plain housewife – because you’ll never ever be plain.

Your demeanor is far from being simple. You are a walking conspiracy. You’re a Megan Fox wrapped in a Zooey Deschanel’s body. Your frail physique hides the fact that you’re as feisty as four black ghetto girls combined. Your innocent face disguises the maturity and sensibleness you have. Your good girl image gets you out of trouble for being so adamant and brutally frank. Plus, you can out eat any blue-collared job worker at any given day of the week.

            And you’ve taught me lessons sometimes I unwillingly have to learn. Albeit the bullying part, you’re the only girl who could shoot down my ego and send me crashing back to reality in a jiffy. You’re that girl who’ll tell me how goofy my hair looks and how I never should wear white ever. We could talk absolutely about everything; no matter how trivial they may sound – from pesky officemates to our greatest love and how eating chicken could turn you gay.

        You have been my security blanket (aside from my beard), my source of “confidence”. I’m your pseudo-bf when he’s not around, your source of “wisdom”. We’re partners in crime, Bonnie and Clyde. And I’m afraid that’s going to change sooner than I would be ready for.

I dread the fact that one morning, I’ll walk into an office and I’ll never find you there. When that happens, I’ll be the saddest hairy guy in the world. I know it’ll be for the better. After all, we need to spread the awesomeness that’s us. You’ll definitely leave a gaping void in my heart that no other girl could ever fill. But until that day happens, you would still be my flat-chested bitch who’ll never ever be a plain housewife.

Sunday, October 12, 2014

Bleeding Love

               I’m no love expert. I know a thing or two about love. But I am not an expert. And I believe no one else is. Not even cupid or those trolls in Frozen

               On the contrary, I am pretty sure I have an above average understanding on what epistaxis is. In fact, I think my nosebleed IQ is way higher than that of my Anime IQ and cartoon shows IQ combined.

 And from what I experienced again very recently, I therefore conclude that Love and Nose Bleeding share a very “disturbing” commonality.

Ang love parang nosebleed, di mo alam kung kailan dadating, walang pinipiling panahon, walang pinipiling pagkakataon.

Ang love parang nosebleed, papansin, mahirap itago, kahit gaano mo man pagtakpan, kusa pa rin magpaparamdam. 

Ang love parang nosebleed, you have to carefully “pick” para di ka masaktan. 
Ang love parang nosebleed, dapat level-headed ka, di pwedeng lagi kang nakayuko, di rin pwedeng lagi kang nakatungo.

Ang love parang nosebleed, spontaneous, tuluy-tuloy lang ang daloy, dapat di mo pinipigilan.

Ang love parang nosebleed, kusang nagwawakas, bigla na lang titigil pag wala ng mailabas.

Ang love parang nosebleed, nakakatakot, may traumatic effect - ayaw mo ng maulit lalo na pag sobrang masakit.

Finally, Ang love parang nosebleed, pag natapos na siya, aabangan mo yung susunod, ihahanda mo yung sarili mo habang naghihintay ka. 

 We all have our notions of love. We choose with what our eyes tells us and what our hearts feel for us. And I like to believe I am entitled to compare to it to my f*cking nosebleed. :)

image co (google, 500 Days of Summer)