welcome fans!

When you don’t feel alive but you’re breathing, are you dead?
Should you wish for death or should you ask for life?

There
is really nothing worth dying nor worth living for in my life. I am
merely treading on, sailing through a mundane existence. All my goals
seem so near and yet I can’t seem to get there. I feel like my life
force has been sucked out of me. The only passion left is that for
procastination.

It is too early in life to break down. But I am broken. And I can’t fix me.

So fix me.

Today used to be a special day, operative word: USED (sounds more evil and hateful without the "to be").

This day started a three-year journey into a bottomless pit, a blackhole of misery that sucks the life and love out of a person. Sounds pretty scary. Don’t worry, only the most stupid fall into places like this. Stupidly, I am one of them.

Stupid is when you celebrate something that only reminds you of misery and disappointment.  Stupid is when you remind someone of an occasion only you, care to remember. Stupid is when you buy wine without knowing how to open it. Stupid is when after the ruthless struggle to open it,  you realize you don’t like how it tastes.

Love, indeed, breeds stupidity. But heartbreak is the mother of it.

Seven days to go before the lovers of the world unite and celebrate their wicked happiness…

First of all, FUCK YOU!

Second of all, MAGHIHIWALAY DIN KAYO, MGA P%+@-!#@ NIYO!

Third of all, hindi ako galit. Hindeeeee!!! Hindi talaga.

Alright, call this the "Pre-Valentine Confessions of a Single, Bitter, Wicked Woman-Girl!"

At around this time three years ago, I was so damn in love.

At around this time two years ago, I was torn between two lovers, feeling like a fool, ang haba-ng-hair girl.

At around this time one year ago, I was hopeful or should that be spelled, hope-fool.

At around this time, I am this bitter, suicidal heartbreak kid who has mastered the art of breaking one’s own heart and ranting about it after like some jaded, love-crazed maniac. Oh how I wish, it was just plain maniac.

This will be a very special Valentine’s Day, indeed. You are all welcome to the funeral of the brokenhearted.

Make this a Black Valentine. Oh yes, make that Clear.

I know someone
Who goes by this name
Whose every move is calculated
Like the game he loves the most
With winning in mind
He loses.

But he is not a loser
Although I would like to believe so.

He loves
Or pretends to do so
He refuses to love
For he is a coward who hides behind reason
With winning in mind
He loses.

He is a loser.
I would like to believe so.

For as life tortures him
He tortures mine.

i remembered as i always would.
would if i could.
but you deserved to be forgotten.

Dear friends,

No, I’m not pressuring you to give me a gift on my birthday, which by the way is next week, the 19th.

But just for this month, I subscribe to the most reliable test of friendship. See the title…

Here is my birthday wishlist:

1. Anything orange

2. An internet subscription

3. A TV rack

4. A new shirt, preferrably black or orange

5. Flowers, again preferrably orange but pink will do

6. An Avril Lavigne CD

7. A bottle of wine (’wag na gin ha or beer, common)

8. Dibidi, dibidi, dibidi special mention: the latest season of house, prison break, lost, grey’s anatomy, and the new ones

9. Bed sheet, preferrably orange or pink

10. A new pair of sneakers

11. A bag of snickers (para rhyme sa taas)

12. The big, big toblerone

13. Flipflops (accepts japeyk ones)

14. A wristwatch

15. But nothing beats a hot, brainy date preferrably male

Be genies in a bottle or lamp or whatever.

I’m growing old. You should grow generous.

Hoping for your kind generosity,

Mary Antonette A. Estoperes

i don’t want your girlfriend…
-avril lavigne who was recently involved in a plagiarism incident with Chantal Kre@!~uk whatever! ang hirap ng apelyido ni lola.

that first line was from my semi-idol avril or whoever singer with a difficult surname she plagiarized. a disclaimer to prevent future plagiarism accusations or more of bitterness allegations.

CAN INTERESTING PEOPLE ON FRIENDSTER (READ: PEOPLE I’M STALKING) POST SOMETHING INTERESTING ABOUT THEMSELVES?

I’M GETTING TIRED OF (STALKING) YOU BECAUSE YOU’RE ALL GETTING BORING AND MORE BORING BY THE MINUTE!

PLEASE PEOPLE, THIS MOST WONDERFUL ACTIVITY CALLED STALKING IS THE HIGHLIGHT OF MY DAILY EXISTENCE. OTHERWISE, I WILL BE A SULKING, BITTER INDIVIDUAL WHO IS TOO BORED WITH HER OWN EXISTENCE SHE BADLY NEEDS TO INTRUDE IN OTHER PEOPLE’S LIVES TO VALIDATE HER  EXISTENCE.

Existence seems to be my favorite word. 

SERIOUSLY, I AM SURPRISINGLY HAPPY WITH ALL THE CRUELTIES OF THE WORLD AROUND ME (IMAGINE THE HOMELESS VICTIMS OF FLOOD AND FATALITIES OF THE WAR IN IRAQ). OF COURSE, I AM NOT SINCERELY REFERRING TO THOSE BUT MY OWN SELFISH PLANS THAT WENT ALL WRONG. I SHOULD BE DEPRESSED, DEVASTATED. I SHOULDN’T BE ABLE TO WALK, OR SMILE, OR COMB MY HAIR. SURPRISE, SURPRISE! I AM PERFECTLY FINE. WHEW! IF  DISAPPOINTMENTS WERE TO BESEECH ME IN THE FUTURE WHICH I AM VERY SURE THERE WILL BE LOTS LEFT, LET THEM DISAPPOINT ME IN THIS MANNER. HAH!

Incoherence seems to be my mantra in writing.

Enough ranting.

Love many things, for therein lies the true strength, and whosoever loves much perfoms much, and can accomplish much, and what is done in love is done well. -Vincent Van Gogh

I really dig this quote from Vincent. I love you, tsong. Gogh, gogh, gogh!

This is for all the people who think that love as a weakness is tragic. It is not tanga, desperada, or pathetic to let go of yourself and succumb to this powerful emotion, to love without limits, breaching all borders, breaking all the rules of pride and logic, stripped of standards or measures.

Loving for the sake of loving. Love as just love.

It is, rather, brave and extraordinary. Only a few can manage to unleash the passion.

Regular people love forconvention, for security, for image, for pride, for necessity, or merely for the sake of having one.  If the reasons disappear, love too.

This, is rather, pathetic.

Love never is. If love is a weakness, it is the most wonderful. 

And I am proud to be wonderfully weak.

I sat beside my crush today. He said I was pretty but I wasn’t fat, so he couldn’t say it even if he would have wanted to just to make me feel bad. He said I was cool and smart and I can aptly match a smart ass like him. He said I was “99% perfect but I was 1% poison,” I could kill him even at the slightest drop. I could have continued eating hotdog with him and pretended not to hear, but he went on saying: “I just sooo love HER.”

Her not you. Her not me.

Suddenly, I wished I were deaf.

On a second thought, maybe I had been deaf for so long, pretended I heard something else everytime you said something I didn’t want to hear. I enjoyed so much eating hotdogs with you I didn’t want to let it go.

But now, I hear it all too well. Maybe you have been saying it louder and louder each time.

You “just sooo love her”.

Ok then…

Goodbye hotdogs!

Goodgye chocolates!

Goodbye Carlo!

* huh, sino si Carlo?

When I was a little girl and people asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, I only had one answer, and with unmatched conviction: I want to be a doctor!

As I grew up a little older, for some unknown reason (it was eons ago, I couldn’t remember anymore), I lost touch of my great doctor dream. Suddenly, I wanted to be a lawyer. I was obsessed with this dream for so long. If there was one thing I was so sure of what I would become in the future, that one thing was that, I would be a lawyer. Nothing and no one could stop me.

When I was in high school, I sort of had the chance to go directly to med school. For a while, I was torn between my two great dreams, but I gracefully let go of med school because I was so convinced law was my passion.

And then things suddenly went full circle…

One day, I just woke up wanting to be a brain surgeon, with the conviction of that little girl from my far away past.

Damn, those medical series I am addicted to! Now what, Meredith Grey? Gregory House? Fictional blame for fictional people.

Currently, I’m stuck in my glitzy media world I always thought of as just a temporary career. And until I’ve had enough money, I’m stuck.

Seriously, how will I ever be a brain surgeon? How about a brain surgeon lawyer? How about a brain surgeon lawyer writer? How about a brain surgeon lawyer writer and mother of a child prodigy?

Seriously!