Alcohol free and rocking out

Check out what i'm having! Not the stuff i'm usually seen holding. My red horse days are over. Being off the bad doesn't have to mean getting away from the music. And what better way to hear great music than to stop by a friend's last gig for the year.

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When anxiety attacks...

I go on a frenzy! My credit cards has taken the toll on my wild purchases which i'm happily paying for these days.

I've paid my dues yet my long weekend was foiled miserably. So what's a poor soul to do? Go to mac center and buy an ipod classic to load with angst ridden tracks and pop trash guilty pleasures.

Before this week, i splurged on 3 pairs of sneakers and wii accessories that's keeping me beat.

I have an explanation, im suppose to buy a couch this month but fortunately, my sister is giving me hers and all i hav to pay for is the transport service that my cousin gave me a reasonablr price for. My foiled vacation also saved me a chunk of dough. The music is back in the household.

A lesson learned well, if im planning for solitary confinement, i must not count on my bestfriend or anyone else.

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This used to be my playground

I love the song of the same title but this is not what it's about.

I have lots of places that allow me to relish my childhood, the hectare wide or so General Textiles compound that is now sprawling with high rise condominiums and shopping enclaves that is now known to everyone as Eastwood City.

Over at the GenTex Frisco compound,I know the place like the back of my hand. I can still see it so vividly in my head. I know every nook and cranny of that darn place; what fruit bearing tree stood where, the stone pavement textures and where each pathway leads to.

Here's where i and my cousin would pick guava, chico, duhat, kamias, macopa, star apple, santol and mangoes either by climbing or shaking trees, sometimes we'd use a stick with a wire hook at its tip and catch our harvest on our shirts. There goes my farmville, of almost the real kind. I have a swing dangling by the avocado tree that nanay would tear down every now and then cuz i wanna be pushed high enough to rise over the roof. When i look back at it now, it really was kinda dangerous.

On bright days, we'd be trailing back to our grandmas with our catch for the day. Most times, a catfish takes our bait of swamp snails and then we'd relish our catch by slicing the poor fish in half to watch its tail wag before the cook Eddie plunges it into boiling oil. Some days, we'd bring home a pail of snails and have it cooked in coconut milk. There are days when we couldn't make makeshift fishing rods cuz we couldn't find sticks and thin wires and somebody kept the roll of thread from our reach; this is when the tadpoles experienced the wrath of 2 silly little girls. Eventually, the tadpoles grew into little ugly jumping maniacs and i couldn't get near the swamp anymore, froggy days aren't funny. It took me until biology class to get over frog phobia.

And then there was Ali Mall which is practically an extension of the Fersal apartment compound we resided at for a few years. Here's where i and neighborhood kids run to on weekends, blazing the vinyl tiles in Skatetown even before in-line skates or 'roller blades' was made popular. Our sometimes over-the-top 'taya tayaan' game would stretch from P.Tuazon st. To the mall.

Ali Mall was also an after school destination in high school to which julie, kath, sugar and i would frequent record bars for the latest music releases. This was of course at the time records are worth owning and cassette tapes weren't yet obsolete.

Back in the day, the mall was far behind on its interiors, it had orange tiles that were popular in the late 70s to the early 80s. Today, it's paved with modern gloss white tiles that give it a squeaky clean look. The lighting has changed and like a nursery classroom, Ali Mall looks smaller than i remember. The shops i used to go to are still in their spot and have all managed to slip in renovations to get on with the advancing times. The building now connects via a skywalk from SM, cool addition, very metropolitan and about time actually.

There goes my youth,revisited. Now, i'll relish happier times with a pack of jellyace minus the Rainbow Brite packaging design.

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Just so you know, when i send you messages, i'm never okay. i don't know why you bother asking.
sadly for me, you're never there.

Reassessing asses

we are all bitches and asses in our own ways, it is not to be denied. I can bitch all i want to towards people i'm not acquainted with, but not to people i consider my friends. The hardest thing to sit through is being bitchslapped by a 'friend'. Just now, the very word has lost its meaning. I'm just lucky enough to have a set of friends who know me for what i am and what i'm not.

Put the guard back up, reassess the asses you spend time with and give more time to people who matter.

How well do you know your friends?

It's a question that's been floating around my head since that faithful Sunday a couple of months ago as i sat in a black velvet couch with a couple of friends. We all wondered, How are we friends? It baffled me that all the info we're gettin at that moment carries some shock value to it. Even more alarming was, it went on and on and on.

But my question is, how well do my friends know me?

Either i'm naturally complicated or im asking for too much to have my friends realize that for years and years, my pet peeve is the last minute cancellations. Circumstances aside, it just is my pet peeve and it cannot be altered. It's also the reason why i make surprise appearances at events i didn't officially confirm to be at. I don't wanna be what i dread. Failed as i may be at times, but i try to walk my talk.

Being the youngest of 5, I have several sets of mouths barking at me all the time,add 2 grannies and a nosy aunt, i was always subjected to be asked questions, squeezing stories et al. What they don't get is that sometimes, there is no story. Maybe that's why i turned to a life of silence, confined to history books, essay writing and loud music. It's my way to get away from the intrusive nature of people around me.

It's no wonder i immediately embraced livin' on my own as soon as the road to liberty cleared. Now i wonder if i ever really snuck out of it. I still find myself in the middle of intrusion. I may smile and laugh it off, but really, i'm pissed. I'm resistant in the face of intrusion, the more im pushed, the more i resist even when there's nothing to resist,it's like second nature to me. I can't explain why, i don't know how to. Just thought...leave it as it is and fuck off.

I'm always guarded with what i say, at least when it's about me or my shenanigans or when i'm advised not to. Home is a training ground, again, im the baby of the family and i get to be under everyone's radar. I can't slip out stuff that will wreak havoc into my personal and private space. I volunteer info when i feel like it and when i'm not being grilled and interrogated,otherwise, i'll get in my zone, not to be bothered.

Sure, there are far more things i share with friends than with family. I choose to share particular info, activities with different groups of friends. It's like throwing pieces of a puzzle around. It may seem like a bad thing for some, but i'm privy that way. And it should not in any way be taken as if i'm withholding my life. Diabolical or hypocritical as it may be to some, withholding is a a lifeline. I just hope the goings around won't push me back into my shell.

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