I don’t know why I was put in a classroom full of uber talented people. Here it is, guys. The most awaited! The phenomenal! Jaw-dropping! (char mura man sad kog daghan ug followers ) To the 3 or 4 who happen to read this, please watch it on May 4, 2013, NCCC cinemas. Contact the amazing director, Vanessa Kate Flores Madrazo for inquiries.
A couple years (or just a year) ago, I came upon a blog on wordpress by a Davao based make-up artist. As I was scrolling down her posts, I saw a picture of her wearing a pink lipstick. Click on the photo above to take a peek at said post.
Surprisingly for me, she looked great! The pink suited her perfectly. Don’t get me wrong. I like pinks and morenas fine, but had always thought that both don’t go so well together. I once wrote on Maybelline Philippines’ facebook wall to ask what shades of pink go well with morenas like me. They answered, “Plums and oranges.” Tsk. That’s just sad.
On the picture above, I had on a couple too many swipes of etude lipstick. I know it doesn’t suit me and I know I look like I aged 10 years overnight, but still, I’m wearing pink! I’ve always wanted to try pink but had always been afraid to do so in fear of looking trashy. So two nights ago, much to my mother’s demise, I started experimenting. Meaning, I wore make-up at home, retouched my lipstick just before I go to sleep, constantly curled and applied petroleum jelly my lashes, and carry a mirror with me wherever I go, and yes, to bed with me. I followed her tips for long lasting lipstick. Concealer (nichido in natural), lip stain (elf in red carpet), and lipstick (rimmel in alarm). The concealer not only served to make the color last longer on my lips (it stayed no matter how many times I drank water), it also lightened the red shade to a warm pink. And it suits me! I’m sorry I don’t have a picture of me wearing said color. I don’t have a nice camera.
“People use the word “Bipolar” as an offensive term to persons whose behavior they do not understand or just to deliberately insult someone. Hey! before u use d “B” word look it up in d encyclopedia.
Just bec. u don’t undrstand a person doesn’t mean he/she is bipolar. There is more to bipolar than simple mood swings.”
Recently, I came upon a tweet that intrigued me. Ah, no. Her name intrigued me more than her tweet. She named herself Miranda Kerr on twitter. Oh, well. I’m reserving judgment. When I opened her profile, she described herself as, “An insensitive bipolar monster filled with eccentricity and masochism.” Suffice it so say I was offended. The majority of people do not understand what bipolar is. So now I would like to take this opportunity to educate people and help rid themselves of ignorance that would save them from embarrassment or from offending people who are real bipolars such as myself. Bipolar is not just simple mood swings. It’s more than that. Bipolar is having your life turned upside down with depression and manic states. The transition between manic and depressed are slow at the first few stages but quickly increase in rate when untreated. Most people equate bipolar with, well, crazy. That’s not true at all. Moreover, most people think that people who have mental and behavioral disorders are dangerous. That’s not true, either. Say for example, a taong grasa, who is suffering from a mental illness, walking down the street with a pack of dogs. He doesn’t do anything, he just walks with his dogs, presumably hoping to find food along the way. All of a sudden, a group of kids laugh hysterically at him. Now, pause for a moment. Who would want to be laughed at? Would you? The taong grasa, alarmed and offended reacts according to his instincts. He picks up a few rocks and start throwing them, hitting the kids (hopefully on the head). Now the kids are no longer laughing. Instead, they are screaming for their lives and for their mothers. The next thing they do is go home, make sumbong and cry their eyes out. Naturally, the parents are enraged. They do not-would not and refuse to-see that there are three sides to every story: their kids’, the taong grasa’s, and the truth. All they see is black and white. Now pause. In this situation, who among the characters are dangerous?
Last year, a friend (we’re not close, mind you), admitted to me that when she first heard I had a behavioral disorder, she was scared of me. She said she had a crazy cousin-in-law who used to hurt her cousin. I wasn’t offended. In fact, I was glad she was honest enough and had enough guts to tell me that to my face. And I understand, I really do. To be honest, I have these urges. The urge to hit my brother or kick the dog. But I have had those urges long before I had my disorder and I am sure that all of us experience that, too. The good thing is, I am able to control my urges. My point is, having urges like that is perfectly normal. Do you know why we stomp our foot when we get frustrated at our mothers or whomever? It’s because we’re fighting the urge to kick that person, which is why we kick the floor instead. See? Everybody does that. Does that mean everybody is dangerous? Not at all.
Most people are ignorant of this. Some by omission, and some by intention. But please, please, choose the words you use carefully. Make sure you are not, in fact, offending others. This does not concern only the misuse of the word bipolar. It’s about everybody and everything who are labeled unjustly and for those who label themselves wrongly.
I do not have anything against the people I mentioned. I used to be one of them, after all. I understand. I understand more than you give me credit for.
Time is a slut
…as said my John Green in his book, “The Fault in our Stars.” It screws everybody.
People are liars. They said time would heal.
But time is just a hoax. Nothing but a scam to make everybody believe in the impossible. No matter how much time had passed, almost nothing has changed. Because everywhere I look, I see memories. Memories of you, of him, of them… of me. Of the life I used to live. Memories can be associated with anything. People, objects, places, time… anything and everything. And I guess that’s what makes it so hard to move on from the life I once led and the person I once was.
I never forgot a thing of it.
Time really is a slut.
And so was I.
Hi. I’m Andrea. And I’m tired. Really tired. Tired of being stuck at home. Tired of taking care of old people. Tired of washing the dishes. Tired of not being able to go out and hang out with friends. Tired of being poor. Tired of being lonely. I’m tired of life in general. I’m just tired, that’s all. I’m tired of not knowing what’s going to happen next and I’m tired of worrying if we still have enough food to eat the next day. And everyday, it’s like that. Everyday.
Why can’t God just let me live my life?
I supposed I should say that I’m sorry that I even thought that but really, I’m not. Because it’s what I’m feeling. I feel cheated. I feel like there’s another life I should live. Not like this.
Not like this.
There are many things that remind me of you. Your name, your pictures. Each time I come upon them, I remember. And each time I do, it hurts. Whenever someone is facing problems like death, I always tell them, “Time will heal.” Now, years have passed and each time I remember you, I would say to myself, “Time will heal.” But will it really? What does time do anyway, besides giving and taking life? If it’s true that time will heal why do the wounds seem so fresh? Why does it open up-raw-whenever I see you, or anything that reminds me of you? I can’t help the memories as they wash over me and skin me anew. Does time really heal? I conclude that no, time does not heal.
…for a boyfriend.
Yes, you read it right. I’m craving for a boyfriend. It’s been 2 years since I’ve last had an illicit relationship and well, hell. I miss it.
I miss waking up to a good morning text.
I miss texting even when I’m in the shower or on the toilet.
I miss smiling for no reason.
I miss being hugged from behind.
I miss being kissed.
I miss having my hand held.
I miss being told, “I love you” several times a day.
I miss having to lie to my parents just to be able to hang out with him.
I miss the excitement of the forbidden.
I miss making out in the cinema while not watching a movie.
I miss… I miss a lot of things. I just want to be loved. Is that so bad?
[I have] so many dreams and plans in life. This bipolar thing will only serve as a hindrance. But you know what? I WILL SUCCEED. I will succeed not despite my illness, but because of it.
And today, April 14, 2013, I realized that it has come true.
These are my classmates. Wonderful, aren’t they? They can sing, they can dance, and they can act like pros. My classmates-no one can hold a candle to them. They shine like a beacon of light in a cold, dark cave. They are definitely mass communication babies. This photo was taken on our SUPERB and STAR STUDDED play. (Three classical plays: Hamlet, Antigone, and Oedipus Rex) The beautiful girl on the right is Mj. Not only is she beautiful, she’s extremely talented. She is a really good photographer. I forgot who she was portraying in the play, but in this photo, she looked a lot like Jesus Christ! The whole point of this blog post. Isa, the girl on the left, is very beautiful and she doesn’t even know it. But like the song, I guess that’s what makes her beautiful. Now, what else should I say? That they are such beautiful and talented people. That I would miss them all so much when I leave. It seems I have forgotten one sad fact- Jesus Christ! I have already left.
A few blogger friends have been telling me I should write stories. And so I did. I hope you like it.
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