Boohooey

reset

Mon, 25 Jul 2011 17:55:03 +0800

reset

"I think most people’s imaginations don’t have limits. Imaginations get limits forced on them. You..."

Fri, 28 May 2010 14:13:39 +0800

“I think most people’s imaginations don’t have limits. Imaginations get limits forced on them. You know, it’s really interesting, with kids. Kids just imagine stuff. They make stuff up. They think up stuff. They daydream. As we get older, we stop daydreaming. As we get older, we stop letting our mind wander, and it’s when your mind goes wandering that it comes home with really interesting things that it found on the way. I think what’s most important is just remembering the value of imagining. The knowledge that, if you look around, everything you see was imagined at some time, by somebody.”

- Neil Gaiman, in an interview with Cosmopolitan Philippines (via vivatregina)

"When another person makes you suffer, it is because he suffers deeply within himself, and his..."

Fri, 28 May 2010 14:06:11 +0800

“When another person makes you suffer, it is because he suffers deeply within himself, and his suffering is spilling over. He does not need punishment; he needs help. That’s the message he is sending.”

- Thich Nhat Hanh (via ceruleansearch) (via apathyendstheworld) (via heartmindspirit)

Star World Asia had a different version of this running when I...

Tue, 11 May 2010 08:39:00 +0800

Star World Asia had a different version of this running when I was sitting in front of the TV one evening, the rest of the family around me.

Mercedes: I’m a gleek.

Tina: I’m a gleek.

Kurt: I’m a gleek.

I chimed in, “I’m a gleek too!”

Then, as if on cue….

Quinn: *chuckle* “You’re a geek!”

…

True story.

Mayor

Mon, 03 May 2010 03:59:47 +0800

M: Who are you gonna vote for mayor, H?
H: I am not voting here here.
M: But if you were, who would you vote for? Nograles or Duterte?
H: I think uhmm...I want change.
M: Change? What for? We have the best!

Tried to steal a casual elevator shot on the way down. Epic...

Mon, 03 May 2010 02:04:00 +0800

down the elevator. Flash came off.

up the elevator...

Tried to steal a casual elevator shot on the way down. Epic fail.

On the way up…

Me: Ready? I turned off the flash na. Promise, promise!

*Click*

*Flash*

*ding*

Meeshy: You’re such a walking contradiction.

Just A Little Scared

Mon, 19 Apr 2010 00:49:33 +0800

Just because I don’t look frazzled doesn’t mean I have it together. Because I don’t. I just figured that keeping a calm demeanor even when I’m scared shit of what’s about to happen will somehow help me calm down (for real) eventually.

Note to Self: Don't Smile

Mon, 19 Apr 2010 00:35:00 +0800

Finally realized that smiling isn’t for me. Whoever said to me that I should smile more often (I’m talking to you, F) is dead wrong. I feel better with and look good in my photos without a smile. Brings out my inner bit**—something I have forgotten to be in a while. I guess I fit perfectly in this phase in my life without a smile.

Useless post… but who’s reading. Love it.

vickyherrera: (via papertissue)

Wed, 14 Apr 2010 13:26:15 +0800

vickyherrera:

(via papertissue)

Animosity In a A House of Two People

Wed, 14 Apr 2010 03:30:41 +0800

So I noticed and realized that when my husband and I stay in one place for a certain amount of time, we become hostile towards each other. Last night, we went out with two couples and it was decidedly fun in bed after that. The hugs were warmer and so on and so forth.

So we got ourselves two dogs.

Maturity Is To Aging (Beware)

Tue, 06 Apr 2010 10:05:33 +0800

Is it just me (I’m sure it isn’t just me) or is maturity, the owning of responsibility, directly proportional to aging? I vividly remember being in my early twenties and not giving a damn about anyone or the future. I only cared about myself and the here and now. I remember receiving compliments about looking 5 times younger than I was. It felt satisfying of course considering that I’m a woman. (God forbid the day should ever come when testosterone should trigger insecurities over age among men.)

So here I am wondering through the lines and bags under the eyes, the faint cellulites and the slightly loose skin in a few body parts if aging is ever really avoidable if you want to get to where you want. Thinking about the future and the things you want to accomplish brings about a feeling of responsibility over your life. That’s supposed to be a good thing. Will the aging signs ever be worth it though? Or was I better off incredulous over the importance of money and the consequences of my actions?

Selfish

Tue, 23 Mar 2010 15:13:00 +0800

I can’t help but ask where do people get that much love for humanity? I honestly can’t quite wrap my finger around the thought of altruism or altruistic behavior for that matter. Everywhere, I see people sacrificing for others and I’m left to wonder if I’m the only one who took a selfish pill before I quite made it out of the womb (and how that is even remotely possible, don’t ask). Worse yet, perhaps I was chosen to take part in some good vs. evil cliche of an experiment.

Makes me sad that while I’m chasing after dreams as useless as expensive bags, plenty mid-twenties are out and about helping their family out with education, homes and, well, pointless dreams as expensive bags.

Cereal Number

Sat, 06 Feb 2010 17:59:41 +0800

Me: Cha, your Photoshop is asking for a serial number!
Johnny: Then go get Koko Krunch.

Mo Money Mo Classy

Sat, 06 Feb 2010 15:15:32 +0800

Mo Money Mo Classy:

vickyherrera:

“Money can’t buy taste”

—

I beg to differ. I used to think this too. However, I’ve seen people take a turn for the fancy and classy after amassing enough wealth. More money, more options; ergo, better taste.

But that’s just me.

Sample Article

Thu, 04 Feb 2010 14:57:00 +0800

I think I’ve mentioned previously that I sold my laptop a few weeks ago. I now have to weasel my way into the office desktop every time I needed to blog or network via Facebook. Notice that the desktop has an ominous “office” prefix attached to it and every single instance I use it, I am plagued with so much guilt, it is ridiculous! When I attempt at social networking, even for a few minutes (even fewer than the average internet user does) I can practically hear that morally-obsessed side of myself chowing down on my conscience, it puts the angels to shame. What I do not understand is how my husband can spend hours, an entire day even, playing every game known to your typical gamer with no reservations whatsoever: he gives no time limit to his usage and he only stops when I ask him to. Thus, reader, you now understand why I think the “office” desktop is, without my knowledge, placed in my husband’s name—signed, sealed, notarized.

So I decided to let go of the whole conjugal concept and just work on having my own laptop again by working again. I decided to give odesk a visit and found the career path that I’ve always looked on with teary eyes, drool impulse almost out of control, cue the melodramatic music and handover the Kleenex (for the tears and the drool).

I have been eyeing a career in writing for years. This came next to singing. But since my singing was almost always met with cracking high notes and obligatory clapping, I knew I had to take my singing to my own recording booth—at least until I’ve learned to pick the right songs and have better control over my voice. Lord knows that takes at least two years of 24/7 practice. By the time I’ve gotten good enough to build a career on this craft, doors will have shut faster than it will have taken me to pitch in a musical note or two. Besides, judging from the insane amount of money I owe my husband and my rents, I don’t think a non-earning hobby would take me anywhere abundant, not even anywhere comfortable. Again, I am not a bad singer and one of these days I’ll show you but for now we have to go back to writing because this is the post that would take me to jobs I find worth having.

When I was pondering on my higher education, I asked my aunts if there were courses that would involve writing—lots of it. They all told me journalism; I remember lighting up and then being let down in a snap when they added that I didn’t have to study writing. ”If you have it, you have it”, they said. The last thing I needed was to feel more inferior in talent than I already did at that time: I was related to and was best friends with some of the wittiest writers and obsessive proof readers I know. These advisors knew what they were talking about…or so I thought. It didn’t help too that my mother also thought writers are weird; most of them always end up depressed and suicidal. At 16, with no social status high enough to bullpoo my way out of anything and no boyfriend to build my ego, weird and talent-deprived wasn’t exactly the description I was aiming for in college. Thus I took it upon myself to listen to the adults who have apparently succeeded in life because they’ve made a life out of earning enough to pay the bills and maintain the lifestyle they wanted, sans passion, zest and spirit.

Ten years later, after countless hours spent on soul-numbing recordkeeping and admin assisting, I found myself yearning to get back in the game of sharing bits and pieces of myself, and sharing nuggets of my thoughts through writing. Excited, I hauled that desire and passion to the odesk pages and took English assessment tests. I didn’t fail, I didn’t do great either. But as I always say, there is nothing the internet can’t teach you and polishing my verb tenses agreement and punctuations are but a week of learning away.

On top of this, I also have this nagging fear of giving away too much of myself in my articles. Marcia Cross once said, “Keep crazy in a bottle.” I am not a nut in the the very essence of “nut’s” figurative sense (i.e. i’m not insane). But my articles are always wrought with eccentricity both in content and in construction.

These, however, will not stop me, Internet employers, from giving you a piece of both fun and serious, focused and diverse writing. In all seriousness, I can do and have in fact done content writing. I think I’m good at it too but of course talent is in the senses of the employer so the self-assessment can understandably be nullified.

In closing, this is a mandatory post: my take on the sample article ever so sought after in every writing job at odesk (and not to be mistaken as a generic cover letter). So when I do find a job description that tickles my fancy, I can easily refer buyers/clients to this article…fingers crossed.

Out With The Boys

Sat, 30 Jan 2010 21:04:00 +0800

With all these elitist posts (graphic or textual) I’ve bumped into this week, I was ready to throw in the towel, Tumblr. I’m packing my bags and moving back to Blogger. You see, I fall in between. I’m what you would call a Hannah Bailey, an in-betweener. But since I haven’t made up my mind yet on how I want my Blogger blog to be this time around, this thought-space shall remain here for a while.

Tonight, I allowed my husband a glorious night of liberty. A friend of his stopped by our house and invited us to a birthday party. Now, I bet this deed was done without the knowledge of the celebrant, so yes that makes my husband and me party crashers. But, really, I can’t complain: I have been saved from making dinner and that’s all that is in that for me.

So, I went with the boys and had the best roasted pork since December 09. My husband and I had to go back and close the store and expressed our need to do so to the now group of 4 (all guys) in the party. Before we left, one of the group of guys said, “when the the rest of the gulpers get here, we’ll beer up, be really unhygienic and share one plastic cup.” (Eew. Or at least he said something to that extent. He was talking in Bisaya so…) My husband (I have got to name him one of these days), oblivious to the fact that the guys just officially invited him to a drinking session, just kept looking around with that look he always has when he’s bored: I’m singing in my head and no one can hear me. La lalalala! So I nudged the husband, pointed out the invitation and husband—obviously fazzled that his wife, mother of envy and God help him bipolar and passsive-aggressive to the point that he has lost his will to live—said, “huh?”

One of the boys, in a defensive, okay-that-wife-is-going-to-beat-me-up-so-bad-now tone said, “Oh, but you (talking to husband) don’t really like to drink, no?”

Silence.

“We thought we should ask because…(turned to look at me sheepishly then turned back to husband) uh, with the wife and all and uh…” Right then and there I decided I had to break the stupidity of it all: I soothed my husband’s back and said, “He drinks. We can come back after we’ve closed up.” So there. Awkwardness, cut.

A few minutes later we were back in the party with the now group of 8 to 10 boys. I shrugged when I saw the group and conceded to my thoughts of a few minutes back: I will read tumblr posts all night long. I whispurred to husband’s ear and said, “I think I should go. I’m a rose among thorns.” He looked at me with such joy in his face, I had to bite off a passive-aggressive remark (Because, really. I can’t have him wanting to get me back home excited—like a teenage boy who just had his first taste of gimik. It just feels wrong.) and smiled back. He took me home. Thus here I am, wandering aimlessly in our room and on the net and wondering how in God’s name am I going to stop this passive-aggression.

“happily ever after… the good life has dimmed my ambition, dulled my edge, stilled my...

Sat, 30 Jan 2010 12:20:31 +0800

“happily ever after… the good life has dimmed my ambition, dulled my edge, stilled my drive… and I’m too damned happy, I just can’t bring myself to care.”

This is written by someone I truly admire. She writes and says the words I wish I could’ve written and said myself. I’m sure she doesn’t know she almost has a stalker for a fan and, lucky me, there’s a good chance she’ll never know. =) I wish I could bring myself to the same happiness she’s in.

Why aren’t they as pretty as I remember them? It’s either my ego has escalated to...

Thu, 28 Jan 2010 13:09:00 +0800

Why aren’t they as pretty as I remember them? It’s either my ego has escalated to heights I dared not dream of or they stayed the way they were 12 years ago—while everyone else got prettier. Random.

No man, no marriage, no one is ever worth wasting my time, my life, my skills nor my day over....

Wed, 27 Jan 2010 13:17:04 +0800

No man, no marriage, no one is ever worth wasting my time, my life, my skills nor my day over. Ever.

I practically spent two years of my life with this guy. Two years of being docile and subservient ~~for most of the time~~. Yet, still my flaws outweigh my strengths and my sacrifices. I don’t think so.

So here’s to you: I’m not kissing your ass anymore.

And I asked myself, how could people be so cruel? How could people take something, someone from...

Tue, 26 Jan 2010 22:19:51 +0800

And I asked myself, how could people be so cruel? How could people take something, someone from someone else and act as if they’ve hurt no one? People are cruel because other people have been cruel to them too.