Welcome to the jungle!
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meet the predator
call me jenie
born on 02/20/83 after my Dad & Mom drank beer and ate balut 9 months before
lives in Singapore, but always a Pinoy at heart
works as an advertising copywriter, but hates proofreading her blog entries
loves true friends, fake DVD's, alternative music, alcohol, sarcasm, boxing, hatha yoga, and House (the TV series,not the music genre)
loathes indifference, power trippers, narcissists, giant egos and bad breath
tries to live by the quote "Postpone death by living, by suffering, by error, by risking, by giving, by losing." by Anais Nin
emo a la mode
Why do I always end up comparing my choices with others’?
Why do I have a tendency to idealize this relationship to suit my standards when I’m not ideal at all?
Why do I wander off when I feel life is coming my way?
Why am I finding it hard to reconcile what people say is ‘right and normal’ from what I consider ‘real’?
Why do I subconsciously believe that happiness is only for some people, and I’m not one of them?
This part from the first season of ‘House’ sums up what I’m going through right now. And of course, I love his reply.
John Henry Giles (sax player dying of pneumonia and wants his doctor to pull the plug):
"I know that limp. I know the empty ring finger. And that obsessive nature of yours, that’s a big secret. You don’t risk jail and your career just to save somebody who doesn’t want to be saved unless you got something, anything, one thing. The reason normal people got wives and kids and hobbies, whatever. That’s because they don’t got that one thing that hits them that hard and that true. I got music, you got this. The thing you think about all the time, the thing that keeps you south of normal. Yeah, makes us great, makes us the best. All we miss out on is everything else. No woman waiting at home after work with the drink and the kiss, that ain’t gonna happen for us."
House: That’s why God made microwaves.
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In other news, I just remembered that it’s the 9th death anniversary of my Dad today. I can’t believe it’s been that long. Time, among other things, really does help heal the pain. In fact, sometimes I think it’s gone. Or perhaps I’ve forgotten about it already.
Anyway, I hope my Dad helps me figure out answers to my rhetorical ‘Dear Ate Charo’ questions. If he were alive, I bet he’ll give me that stoic, puckered brow look and say, “Tumigil ka nga.”
4:03 PM
Friday, November 03, 2006
