Nails and lots of it!

Say hello to my wonderful fingers (and don't mind my 5 yr old looking hands!). I'm posting this because of how proud I am on how good I did with painting my nails.

For weeks I've been terribly restless, and this is how I've been wasting my time. I change my nail polish every three days. There were days where I'd get annoyed with the color easily and I'll take it off just right after I've put it.

I remember when I was a kid and I didn't understand the joys of having your nails painted and get it chipped days after. Now I understand and I laugh with my naïve-ity/ness (looking for a good adjective) ways.

I'm using O.P.I for my fingers and L.A. Girl Polish for my toes.

I loooooove being a girl!

Potter Experience (NOTHING HAS ENDED)

I was going to share my whole experience from being a Potterhead since I was a little child (and still not going through puberty) but there are really no specific words to use. I watched the film two days ago but I could still feel my heart hurting.

I know this must be a little exaggerated, but if you grew up with the books and the films, you'll know what exactly what I'm trying to say here.

I won't tell much about the last film because I am not good with giving reviews (in school, I always end up having the lowest score in this kind of home works).

All I want to say is that HARRY POTTER AND HIS ADVENTURES WILL REMAIN WITH US! ALSO: I CAN'T WAIT FOR POTTERMORE

Vanilla Lace

She smells like vanilla lace. For remembering her smell, you’ll slowly remember her characteristics. Her dry, dark hair that flows up to her clavicles and her fringes that entirely covers her eyes. Then you remembered her face. Her almond-shaped eyes, and those dark circles underneath it. Her cute nose, chubby cheeks, and round-shaped chin. Oh god, you almost forgot the scar that was resting above her chin. That dark scar that obviously represents her restlessness and how she couldn’t take the once forming zit on it so she decided to pop it. And finally, you remember her soft, small lips. The lips that once explored your being.

You could still smell the vanilla lace, and while that drowns your veins your mind runs through the memory of her body. Her small, but nicely-shaped breasts and the baby fats that were unmistakeably forming on her tummy lingers on your fickle brain. Her long, perfect legs are now on the view too. And you are going crazy with the idea that you once had her. Once touched her. Once tasted her.

How could you let her go? How could you let go the happiness, the sadness, the craziness, and the lies? How could you let go the comfortably quiet evenings, the hugs, the kisses, and the sex? How could you let go a person who have loved you first, and herself last? How could you let the word ‘goodbye’ permanently separate the two of you? You are heartless.

Heartless for not giving her a chance. Heartless, she calls you, for not listening to her. Heartless because she cannot accept the truth that you just let her heart rot in questions, pain, and hell. Heartless for breaking her bones, her muscles, her soul with those stinging letters that formed that word ‘goodbye’.

And now, all you can do is collect the memories of her. The happiest days had now past, and everything is just dark and bruised. You might regret all of the horrible things you have caused her but you are scared shit. You are scared shit to accept that you are wrong. Scared shit to say you’re sorry. Scared shit to let anyone see you and how frail you are now.

Then you’re left with that scent of vanilla lace. Oh, how you hate it now because some other person is wearing it near you. You hate it because you cannot hurt that stranger for reminding you of the past. Because that stranger isn’t her. You are, once again, being tortured by the pain that has formed inside you. That you formed yourself.

She’s happy now. She’s even happier to know that you are not.

Because Hair Issues Are Exciting

Before I continue this post, I must warn you that this is about my hair and how I'm totally going bonkers about it (and how I'm turning into a very OC person lately). And I'm going to give you a brief history of my relationship with it.

Way waaaaaay back when I was little, I had a very long, dark, curly hair. If I just knew how lucky I was for having those majestic locks, I shouldn't have cut it. Anyway, I had no choice too. The Philippines had (and still has) a very humid condition, and I used to play outdoors a lot so my Mom decided that having it taken away from me is for the best. So since then, I got used to having very short hair. I used to rock bob cuts, boy hair, and I used to have the kind of hairstyle Former President Gloria Arroyo had (circa 2006). I also had Dora hair. People still tease me about it sometimes.

When I reached my junior year in high school, I decided to experiment with my hair. I had my first ever fringes (I let my classmate cut it--we were pretty stupid back then, okay!), and I let my hair grow a little. I was proud of it, actually. I felt ~*beautiful*~.

Anyway, I must've been on a lot of drugs in senior year because I decided to have a bob cut again! I was so into the K-Pop genre (it was a very stupid phase), and I thought I could rock the hairstyle again without looking stupid. Turns out, when you're older, and fatter than you used to be, bob cuts just don't look good on you in every. fucking. angle.

ALSO: I am the kind of person who get haircuts after getting my heartbroken. Even if my hair is so short, I'd still have a haircut. Which means: I kept my hair short until I was in first term in college.

So in college, I also had short hair. I got it dyed brown so it won't look dull just like how it used to in high school. It was kind of okay, I guess. I look more girly than before too so I didn't complain that much unlike when I was in high school.

But I guess things became rocky between me and my hair when I started going to boxing classes and gym. I grew it long and I always had it in a bun (and they said that isn't healthy for the hair). I also didn't took care of my roots and had treatments. Also, I got tired combing it and I just let it dry on its own and then I would use my hands to take the ones that got jumbled apart.

I guess my hair hates me, because I now have a great number of split ends. :( I'm having a lot of problems with it. I, at least, waste 20 minutes on just combing it because it's so dry (because I had it dyed again two months ago). I also experience hair fall! Seriously, if I didn't had my doctor's appointment, I might think I have stage 3 cancer!

Anyway, I'll try to patch things up between us starting with treatments. I'm also going to have the tips dyed (I'm still not decided which color, though) and hopefully, it becomes lively again.

Permanent/Updates

My Permanent Residence Card came in the mail today. It means, I'm an official, legal immigrant here in Canada. It's exciting to have it now considering that I'll be needing it whenever I decided to go out of this country (and come back before the expiration date of the card). It's pretty exciting, I guess.

I just made a Goodreads account (check it out!). It's an awesome site for book-whores like I am and keep tabs on the book you've read, currently reading, and wants to read. There are also a lot of nice people who gives you good book recommendations. And the awesomest (wrong grammar intended) of it all is that you can also download free e-books! I'm currently on a challenge of reading 50 books for the rest of the year *fingers crossed*. Goodreads should pay me for advertising them.

There's really nothing much to tell right now. I haven't experienced any exciting stuff lately because 1, I'm always in the room and glued in front of the computer and 2, I think I'm transforming into a boring person (which I don't want to happen but I think it already did *sad face*). I'm just too occupied with all my e-books lately and all the movie and music downloads I'm doing.

Anyway, that's all there is. I might post another entry next week after I have watched the last movie installation for Harry Potter.

Canada Day

Last Friday, I celebrated Canada Day for the first time. It was also the celebration of my Dad's birthday but I didn't get to enjoy it because he had a drinking party with Tito Lito's brothers and other relatives AKA my Dad's new 'friends'.

Anyway, my cousin invited me to come with him with his wife t

o The Forks Park and watch the fireworks. I accepted because I'm bored, and I don't re

ally go out of the house that much. And I have nothing better to do but waste another day in front of my computer.

These are the pictures my Ate Jackie took.

Ate Jackie, Me, Ate Lorena

Excuse me for only posting two photos because 1, I still don't know how to move the pictures around here on Blogger and 2, these are the only photos that I like. I don't even like my solo picture. The picture is great, don't get me wrong! My face isn't.

Canada Day was fun. It was funner seeing a lot of people drunk and running around the park giving strangers high-fives and screaming "FUCK YEAH, I LOVE CANADA!!!" It was kind of a bummer that I didn't get to go to the street party after the fireworks but I will definitely do next year.

I am looking forward for more Canada Day ahead of me!

He only exist in my mind

My ideal guy would be taller than me. Tanned skin. Messy brown hair like he just got out of bed. He won’t bother shaving for days and just leave the growing mustache and beard in his face but still looks clean. Ears with industrial piercing. He also have unusually amazing tattoos on his body, not like those cliché tattoos that doesn’t make sense. Rough hands that says he likes to do things on his own. Deep dark brown eyes. He eats a lot but he can still manage to look like a rock star.

He’s got a good personality. He can be friends with people who have different kinds of characters. He’s fun to be with. He’s also a smoker, and every week we’ll challenge each other to stop and then fail miserably together. The only sport he likes is F1. He plays basketball and soccer but he don’t follow the game religiously. He’s patient. He would listen to me whine. He’d understand about my anger issues. But he can be impatient too. He’d tell me when to stop being a bitch. He’d tell me when I’m being stupid. He likes kids but doesn’t know how to approach one. We would fight about how he find dogs more awesome than cats. He hates the same stuff that I do but we like different things. We have inside jokes that people will never find funny. He likes to cuss a lot. He loves to drive around. He’ll stay with me when I’m drunk and will lift my hair when I barf. He’d be my crying shoulder when I’m having PMS. He also likes making me mix tapes about songs that don’t really make a point. He likes teasing me a lot but knows when to stop. We watch a lot of movies, but he won’t get why I like the 50’s French romance films or any 50’s or 60’s films, ever. We’ll have meaningful conversations and try to talk like we’re both smart adults. He would get mad at me when I bother him when he’s reading but he won’t take me seriously when I’m angry at him when he do the same for me. He’ll randomly text me excerpts from the book he just read and that caught his attention. That will be his way of saying ‘I love you’ to me. He hates Shakespeare. We take photos of our silly faces. We’ll never have a decent one. He will tell me not to skip classes because he doesn’t need a dumb bitch for a girl friend. He’ll meet my parents and tell me my dad is cool. He will always try to cook for me but will always end up almost burning the house down. He’s creative. Smart. Deep thinker. He’ll hold my hand but will break apart when my hands become sweaty.

He’d be a pain in the ass and I’ll be one too. We might give-up each other but I will always have a special place in his memory.