01:02: i think i got sick because i smoked too much. i don't really smoke, but i finished a pack in two nights. because i was depressed.
e.: why were you depressed?
...i missed someone too much
e.: just like that?
*shrug*

it's rather like a drug addiction, isn't it? he's gone, and i'm okay for a while. then i start to miss him and just when i think i'm about to go crazy, he shows some sign of life and i'm okay again. for a while. like getting a fix. and it just goes on and on like that. i thought i got out of it. i went through some form of detox and withdrawal and he was gone for good and i was great. but then that stupid email came....

i think i'm okay now. saturday came too early, though the weekend helped a lot. but i miss playing disc!! blue sparkle and nite glow have yet to hear the rush of wind and sniff the dust on the grass.

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00:38: if i were to give someone a box with 12 things that would best define me, my box would have:

1. an md which includes jon larson’s plays, and songs from led zepellin, antonio carlos jobim, oscar peterson, ella fitzgerald and diana krall.
2. a lighter
3. a can of strong ice “whapak!!!” or a flask of montepulciano d’abruzzo
4. a copy of the silmarillion
5. a disc (frisbee)
6. a notebook
7. a mechanical pencil with B or 2B lead and a good eraser at the other end
8. a chocolate bar (probably dark chocolate)
9. wiretap frame ice lens oakleys
10. a dvd of girl, interrupted
11. a shirt/jersey of real madrid or bmw williams
12. my most comfortable, worn-out pair of jeans

what's in your box? :)


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00:11: from ulan:

if you call me botch, you know me from way back and also know that i will dismiss the fact that you call me by that name, only because you are a good friend.

if you call me botchie, you are ruth.

if you call me botch-botch, you are my ex.

if you call me batch, you are khali.

if you call me euro, you are toonic.

if you call me amag, you are a yuloy.

if you call me krystal roy, you are a paulinian.

if you call me krys, you met me no more than two years ago, or are smart enough to have asked me what i prefer to be called.

if you call me krystal, you are someone from theatre.

if you call me krystal and say it right, i just might kiss you.

if you call me pookie, you are sansan.

if you call me huggyball, you are my huggyball.

if you call me silmarien, you visit the tpts forums, but have no idea who i am.

if you call me lifey, you are a friend i met online.

if you call me umbrella girl, you are someone i know too much about yet don’t know at all.

if you call me benilde, you are bobby garcia.

if you call me pssst... i won’t even bother to look your way.


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01:07: what would happen if we never healed from our wounds? our emotional wounds, i mean. if we never scar, would we keep bleeding forever? and how long would it take before all the internal bleeding would actually kill us?
what wounds am i dying from at this moment? what wounds do i carry with me?

there's the one i worshipped from afar. the wound born from incredulous obsession. a bruise? a phantom wound with a phantom pain that lasted all my teenage years. not a threat.

then there's the only one i ever truly fell in-love with. a deep wound. i may still be bleeding from it, though it no longer hurts. this could be the death of me, killing me slowly as we speak.

there's also the one that would have been a great love. a fresh wound. it opens each time i move. it hurts the most, though i may not bleed much from it. it may feel like i'll die from it, but it is nothing fatal. ...or perhaps it's the kind you dismiss as a scratch, without fully knowing the complications it brought.

and there's elthoron. if emotional wounds could be stitched, my beloved would be the thread that pulls it all back together to close the wounds. the one i would hate to lose. as a friend, as one i love, as a mentor, as a muse, as a colleague, it could mean instant death for me to lose this one. no real wound. the only pain there is the truth that we aren't, can't, and shouldn't be together. but we love each other anyway. and somehow that makes everything alright, whether or not old wounds are killing me slowly.


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01:34: eu gasto cada momento acordar que penso de você. posso você responsabilizar-me, a seguir, se eu me desejar um sono eternal? para dormir outra vez e acordar nunca....

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03:34: got this from the cad


You are Poetry.
You are often the most emotional of the arts. You
are introverted, in that you tend to let people
come to you rather than trying to get their
attention. You get along well with Music and
Literature.


What form of art are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

hrrrmm...

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20:45: saturday was this year's first women's hat tournament. true, i didn't get any sleep at all the previous night because i saw the tourney as the end of my days on earth, but once i got on the field, nerves just went away. probably because everything happened so quickly, my mind had no time to panic.
i just love our team name: pakdatsheet. (what do we pack? sheet! what's on the field? sheet! what are we full of? sheet!) it started as a joke, but when we found out that our first game would be against discarte (reema's and ulan's!) team, we figured " we're dead! pakdatsheet nga!" they slaughtered us in our first game (10-1). but we won every other game after that, including the final, a rematch between pakdatsheet and discarte. those guys are troopers. excellent game played by both teams. that final game was so intense that even aslie, who was just in the sidelines, got a cramp from cheering. the party was fun, too! was a long wait, but it was way cool.... imagine people tripping on happy cookies (too bad i didn't get any...) and various prizes given away at awards... from a pretty little italian disc for the best thrower (reema), to a brownie for each member of the team winning the spirit award (discarte).

so the pain in my knee has me limping, but no, i didn't die. and i gotta say... ULTIMATE DISC ROCKS!

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23:56: and to think i was soooo happy before i went to bed and when i woke up....

pasok! patay. leche.
my dare backfired on me. whatdidido, whatdidido, whatdidido....

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03:54: is it not wonderful, how chips and dents can shape us in so many ways? when i heard this live six months ago, i hadn't thought that it could mean anything to me other than a nice, yet sad sentiment sung in minor chords.

listen, just hear me out
yes, i know we agreed
when we break up we'd never
give in to this need
to admit to each other "i miss you"

listen, just hear my cry
no, i won't break my word
if i do say i miss you
it will never be heard
let my heart whisper all that it needs to

how can you make and take a start
and just leave me here hanging
can't even say what i'm feeling
how could you make then break my heart
if i can't say i miss you
let me say one last thing

i miss him and all the things he could do
i miss him just as much as i miss you
i miss him. i know you're wondering who
i miss him, i miss the man i was with you

---from the man i was with you
by jimmy bondoc

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23:48: ladies and gentlemen, the cyrano de bergerac of formula 1


BMW-FW26
crash.net


montoya during practice sessions
crash.net

look at that front nose... it's hideous! but, hey, it works.

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21:11: this has been a week of excellent news!

first, a friend got accepted into the university of london. i'll miss him and so will the whole school, i'm certain, but i'm glad he got in.
of course, there was the ultimate victory at the oscars. SWEEEEEP!!!
then, one of the disc players (though i don't know her well yet) got a scholarship in formula bmw (that blew my mind!).
and today, we won!! my lit class won the shakesperean legacy competition!

mas eu não tenho oferecido a meus sacrifícios e rezos ou prières para algo distante mais importante a mim ainda nenhum sucesso. eu temo que tudo está perdido mas talvez aquele é justo meu medo que fala talvez o é seu teste da vontade talvez.

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16:25: there are no words that could adequately express the magnitude of my joy.

ELEVEN!

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