Spoiled FruitCake

Merry Christmas.

This will be quick since I have to go and take on my first violin lessons in fourteen years and the prompter on my screen says “five more minutes”.

I guess it’s just me or maybe our generation has allowed teh fates to take over our childhood dreams of meeting Santa, or of getting what we truly want. Or maybe not. I guess it’s just me, thinking that christmas has just passed away like our Christmas dinner which is now flushing freely down the toilet. I’ve spent days and days of thinking what my monito or monita would strangely consider as “something inspirational”. Try “something idiotic” than “something big, dark, and juicy”.

I cannot believe it that by taking a psycopathic advise from my workmate has made me the cynic that I am now about the true value of Christmas. Ugh. How did I let that happen?

Looking at fake snowflakes makes me sad. Living in a country that only has two seasons (well, looking back at the news makes me think back and re-phrase that. I think we now only have one season, the humid rainfalls can explain that. And the two big thunderstorms, Ondoy and Pepeng can explain that clearly.) fantasizing on westernized cultures devouring on white christmases makes me terribly sick. Yet here we are, wasting every piece of paper that we have to make cut-outs of these twisted, swirly thingies stuck on every window pane I see.

The point is, why can’t I feel that merry feeling? That cold chill of frozen goodies? That warm baked feeling of chicken or pork or beef? Of that frozen fruit cake with it’s drunken brandy-flavoured love?

Love. Why can’t I feel that?


This should have been a good day, except..

..There Is No Greater Love

Merry Christmas.

Sometimes, as much as I’d want to say it out loud in a good way, no matter how my voice seems to betray me and show a bit — nope — a lot of sadness in my heart. Christmas is supposed to be about God and his son Jesus Christ, our Saviour. Mankind’s only hope. But three years ago, this was someone else’s time to leave, too.

My mom was 53, my twin sister and I was 16, our brother had just turned 24 last October. During those years I was aware, and I guess everybody else was aware that mom was leaving. And it just wasn’t a trip to the marketplace or to the office or on the rooftop of her condo. It was someplace unknown.

Excuse me but I’m still unsure of calling heaven as heaven and hell as hell. I sure do use them both in a sentence but never when someone dies and refer it as the place where they are at the moment. ‘Cause if I was sure that somebody was in heaven or in hell, then I should’ve wished that my mom was neither. Just as long as she’s finally happy and content. I mean, isn’t that what we all wish when we die, to finally meet the demands that we earthlings have not been able to have when we were on earth?

And so, I wish that when I do die, I’d die content. And happy. And sad too, cause I’ll be leaving.

Thank You For Coming

Well at least I’ve poured out myself on my first entry!

Anyway, I’ve received another newsletter from BUSTmagazine.com about some free stuff their giving away from Diesel

(courtesyof http://bust.com/win-stuff.html)

(sample watch) this promo also comes with a new Kid Sister CD, UltraViolet. Well, if you’re not interested, I am.

Well, I’ve got to go. I have to pic up new headphones for my phone/MP3 player. Ciao.