“And she’d ask for time and she’d ask for time,
She’d ask for time and she’d ask for time.
And she would beg for time, she’d beg for time, and call it a gift.
And he would give her time and he’d give her time,
And he’d give her time and he’d give her time,
But time is not given, time is not taken; it just sifts through its sift.
Time is not given. Time is not taken. It just sifts through its sift. “
— Buildings by Regina Spektor
Miss Spektor’s absolutely right isn’t she? That last stanza hits me like the final resounding power chord strummed at a KISS concert: clearly and with such profound reverb. Time is not given, time is not taken, it just sifts through its sift. It just sifts through its sift. It just sifts through its sift.
It’s 3:10 am, I’m awake and alone in my bedroom with nothing for company except for music, ye ol’ faithful, my stupid noisy air-conditioner (which seems to make more noise than “conditioned air” or whatever that’s supposed to come out of it) and thoughts full of loneliness and hollowness. Ha-ha. Thoughts full of hollowness. How can I possibly be filled emptiness? Beats me but it certainly is how I feel inside.
I feel that time is rushing forward too fast, too quickly. I can’t wrap my mind around the fact that 2011 is forty-two days away. FOURTY-TWO. 42. Quatro dos! That’s probably not even right but you see my point? It seemed only like it was yesterday when my bestfriends were all on the same flippin’ island as I am and it seemed only yesterday I was in school, imitating a post-apocalypse zombie every Monday morning, it seemed only yesterday… that everything’s happened. Where’s time gone? I didn’t see it sifting, no.
I miss everything. I miss everyone. I miss every single fucking thing from the beginning of this year (and bordering the years even before) to this very second. I miss everything that’s happened this year, most specifically. Every single memory I have of everything within 2010’s contents were the best memories I’ve ever made yet. Every single friend, every single laugh, every single tear, every single emotion, every single word, every single hurt, every single place, every single emotion, every single person, every single fear, every single song, of every single day. I’m not about to divulge everything that’s happened to me this year, that would take probably a damn novel, maybe an entire fucking series, so not today, not tonight. But hear me,everything.
This year has changed a lot of who I am. So many things the stuff of legend has decided to happen this year, and I can honestly say I’m not the same person I was a year ago. Six months ago. A month ago. Yesterday, even. There’s so much I’ve grown into. I’ve changed a hell of a lot, yet I’m still the same. I’m still me. I’m still Chelsea. And more.
A couple of friends lost, and a million more made; many bonds broken as some people fade. There were so many tears shed on things that didn’t even matter the littlest bit two weeks later. But the thing I miss the most? The bits of my life when not a single fuck was given about life. Not in a bad way, of course. The bit where you just lived for the moment, when there was so much love in you, for your friends, for your family, for God, so much your heart could just explode like a fucking firework. Times a billion.
And the laughter. Oh, the laughter. I miss the laughter.
I’m not saying it’s all gone, I’m just saying I miss the past. And everything it held. Do you want to know why? I’ll share you my biggest fear. My biggest fear… is losing everything I love. Or more accurately, everyone I love. There is no point denying it, not everything was made to last forever. And I fear losing everyone that’s made me who I am. Everyone who’s caused me to feel. To simply feel.. Feel. I fear that one day, someday, we won’t be looking at each other the same we do now. That we’d drift apart, we won’t mean much at all, we’d be looking at strangers in photographs… And I don’t want that. I don’t want to lose... anyone. I fear… evanescence.
And I’m just fucking hoping and praying my guts out that nothing, not even time can take the people I love away. I can’t let time cause them to evanesce. I’m not going to let that happen. Not today, not ever. No.
Time is not given, time is not taken. Neither can you take away the things that mean the most to me.
Labels: I ran out of things on the laptop and was reduced to writing this
It is precisely 3:07 on a Saturday morning over here. It seems that over the holidays, I have miraculously metamorphosized (is there such a word?) from an early sleeper at 10 pm to a very nocturnal and very much hungry teenager.
I sleep in the day; I’m practically a vampire or something! And I am not proud of it. I’m missing a lot of meals waking up at 3 in the afternoon! I’m barely cutting it close for what the English call ‘high-tea’. No wonder I’m so famished at 2 am.
But I am not alone in my nocturnalism (again, is there such a word?). Ever since the holidays, everyone’s been pretty much asleep during daylight hours and wide awake without the aid of caffeine after hours. Gee. We teenagers are mutating, aren’t we? Sooner or later, we’d get nightvision. Or like, the ability to conjure food out of absolutely nothing to satiate our midnight thirst for Cheetos and beef jerky. That’d be radical. Tee-hee!
Speaking of holidays, these emergency holidays are starting to bore me out of my cranium. Swine flu hasn’t hit me but it’s killing me alright. I sort of miss school now. Sort of. I mean, I still despise laborious homework, certain teachers, impossible-to-flush-at-all toilets and crappy cafeteria food but I do miss seeing my friends everyday, somewhat fun practicals in the lab, lunches at the nearby cafe, spying on Sexgod with Richelle and just plain hanging out with my mates at the multipurpose basketball court (it’s used as a football field, basketball court, parking lot, hang-out-place-during-recess and several other pointless-to-mention uses).
H1N1 is gay. Stop taking lives for Pete’s sake! Sheesh. What if we NEVER go back to school?! What if everyone mutates into zombies and I’d have to kill my bestfriend by knocking her head off with a lamp?! Zombie Town. That sounds cool—wait! No! Not cool! It’s like premature Armageddon! What the hell is going on?! First Michael Jackson dies, and now this place gets infested with zombies! Sheesh. Some people must really dislike me. I sense FaceBook worshippers. Tee-hee! (Alright, NigaHiga overdose.)
So anyways, we have a gig at Sheraton Hotel this Sunday, should be good. I heard the food is AWESOME. At least, that’s what everyone says. Maybe it’s all just a ruse to get me to play. No, that wouldn’t make any sense. I would still play, regardless the food standard. MEHHHH.
We had band practice a few hours ago, and due to stinkin’ H1N1, we had to wear these insane facemasks. We look absolutely ridiculous as the masks resemble Donald Duck’s beak. Sheesh. (Alright, Josh Osman-Wolfe overdose) I gotta remember to take a photo. It’s so hard to communicate under these hideous things! But it’s cool and it freaks people out when you walk into a grocery store with one on your face, right Joseph? You can practically rob a bank with one. Wicked cool.
A pretty fun thing I did today was ride home with Neel after band. The guy drives like a maniac! I swear, I could’ve died today. Not cool. But wicked fun.
“Dude, drive properly!”
“What, like this? [takes hands off steering wheel]”
“Holy mother of—PUT YOUR HANDS BACK ON THE WHEEL!!”
*
“If you’re planning on having an accident, please, as long as I’m not in it, we’re cool.”
*
“Okay, okay, I’ll drive properly woman. [takes his eyes off the road and starts facing me, talking]”
“DUDE, PLEASE!!!! EYES ON THE ROAD!”
*
“Look, Michael Jackson just died! If I die, the world can’t take losing another legend!”
*
“Hey, if you and I die, T. Honey’s gonna kill us.”
“But we’re DEAD.”
“FIGURE OF SPEECH, WATCH THE ROAD!”
He missed my house too. And when we took the U-turn to get around, we missed the nearest one. Hahaha. Still, riding with Neel, wicked fun. I should get him to drive me everywhere now. Ah, friends with benefits in another, less cunt-ey meaning eh? Good times, good times indeed.
Anyways, I’ve got to get to bed. (Wait, I am in bed. The laptop’s on my knees and I’m pretty much freezing here.) It’s 4:29. Wow, I take ages to write. Probably because Joseph distracts me on MSN every 2 minutes. I am not complaining, however. Tee-hee! I need to sleep, band at 2 in the afternoon later and mum told me to wake up for breakfast, she doesn’t care, as long as I wake up for breakfast, I can crawl back into bed after.
Parents and breakfast. I’ll never know. Until I become a parent, that is, and start fretting over my teen being too thin (ONLY BECAUSE OF HER ABNORMALLY HIGH METABOLISMIC RATE, SHEEH, I’M NOT ANOREXIC FOR PETE’S SAKE) and forcing her to get up for breakfast at 8 am during the HOLIDAYS. Sigh, as if my child didn’t need any more early mornings. Who knows, if I’m lucky, my kid would be a morning person, as greatly opposed to her mom.
Okay, seriously. It’s a bit too early to be talking about parenthood, I haven’t even finished my high school education! Stupid H1N1. Too early for that, too late for bed.
Good morning zombies.
-the late Michael Joseph Jackson
I wake up at one in the afternoon today, drag my yawning bottom to the bathroom, sang a few classics in the shower, drag my then soaking but still sleepy bottom back into my bedroom, turn on the laptop, get on Twitter and the first thing that catches my eye is a Tweet from a certain Seebs stating that “Jackson has died at age 50.”
So of course, the first and sole Jackson that came to mind was Michael J, the King of Pop himself. But then I thought to myself, “What? Who, MJ? Dead???? ...NAHHHHHHHH. [goes back to Twittering about lost underwear]”
Chuan comes and picks me up and Michael Jackson is emanating from his stereo. Pretty odd, I think to myself, Chuan usually has Velvet Revolver or The Final Riot! playing. Oh well, I like this song anyway and I carry on with my off tune ‘Annie are you okay, are you okay, are okay Annie?!’ sing-along with the CD.
I get to Neo and suddenly everyone’s talking about Michael Jackson dying of cardiac arrest. And I’m like, “Okay, seriously, these people have GOT to stop kidding around!” And Chuan goes, “Dude... he died. For real man.” And I’ve got this what-the-f*** expression on my face and I’m like, “Dude, stop f***ing with me man.”
*
I think that’ll do for my narration of how I came to know the great MJ has gone and passed. And all I can say is... dude, what?! HE WASN’T SUPPOSED TO GO YET! IT’S NOT RIGHT! I haven’t even met the guy for Pete’s sake!
Okay, so he came and did a concert here once, but that was ages ago! I was like, what, 2 years old? I was probably just a screaming toddler shouting for my pacifier and shouting in limited vocabulary at my mother to go back home while the awesomest, most legendary pop icon of all time was standing in front of me, signing auto-freaking-graphs! And yes, I know he was standing in front of me, signing auto-freaking-graphs because I have a photo of it. Wanna see? Email me at—so anyway, I just can’t get over the fact that I won’t ever get to meet this legend. Bummer.
He was such a great person, he inspired so much and he made his mark on everyone. He will forever be remembered, I’m certain. To hell with all the surgeries and child molestation charges, he wasn’t proved guilty anyway. Him dying is just... whoa. You know, like, whoa. It’s one of those things that can’t really happen. I suppose everyone dies but still! He can’t. He just can’t. I loved the guy! He was epic in every possible sense and connotation of the word.
He inspired loads to sing, to dance, to perform. To make history, to make something out of their lives. To change the world and to make their mark on this place. Heck, he even got me to update my blog in his honour after putting off writing for a month! Can you not grasp the hero that is Michael Jackson?
No one can be Michael Jackson, he was most certainly and without a doubt one of a kind. You know what... maybe Ryan Higa from YouTube is right, maybe he is an alien. Now that would explain a lot! Like you know, the skin color changing (I mean come on, no one’s ever done that before), the awesome and impossible-to-mimic-completely vocals, the catchy crotch-grabbing and moonwalking dance moves and not to mention the incessant and original AEOW! This man is surely a unique entity.
And you know what, he’s died. Maybe the line “ah, he’ll live on in spirit” applies most perfectly here. MJ may be gone in body, but I swear on my original Fall Out Boy **** Live in Phoenix DVD that he lives on, in spirit. Like I said, the man cannot die. He just can’t. He’ll be everywhere because all legends live on. Why, just an hour ago, Mina IM’d me on MSN that she received an email from Twitter announcing that Michael Jackson is now following her. The man just died of cardiac arrest 14 hours ago, for goodness sake. See? I told you he’d live on! He’s following Mina on Twitter after his death goshdarnit!
Michael Joseph Jackson was a great man, and he’ll stay in our hearts & memories as long as we live.
To end this tribute to MJ, here are the words to my all time favorite song by Michael Jackson. The lyrics are simply amazing. It’s called HIStory.
He got kicked in the back, he say that he needed that
He hot willed in the face, keep daring to motivate
He say one day you will see his place in world history
He dares to be recognized
The fire's deep in his eyes
How many victims must there be slaughtered in vain across the land?
And how many struggles must there be before we choose to live the prophet's plan?
Every day create your history
Every path you take you're leaving your legacy
Every soldier dies in his glory
Every legend tells of conquest and liberty
'I'm the greatest of all time'
Don't let no one get you down, keep movin' on higher ground
Keep flying until you are the king of the hill
No force of nature can break your will to self motivate
She say this face that you see is destined for history
How many people have to cry the song of pain and grief across the land?
And how many children have to die before we stand to lend a healing hand
Every day create your history
Every page you turn, you're writing your legacy
Every hero dreams of chivalry
'I have a dream'
Every child should sing together in harmony
All nations sing
Let's harmonize all around the world
'I am happy to join with you today, in what will be down in history as the greatest demonstration for freedom in the history of our nation.'
How many victims must there be slaughtered in vain across the land?
(Lord, we need your assistance)
And how many children must we see before we learn to live as brothers and be one family?
'Some men see things as they are and say, why? I see things that never were and say, why not?'
'That's one small step for men, one giant leap for mankind.’
Makes you wanna make history huh? I especially love that line, “One day you will see his place in world history/this face that you see is destined for history.” Well Michael, I’m gonna make history one day, you’ll see. I’ll make you proud.
Here’s to you MJ, you are loved. Rest in peace and may God bless your soul. I didn’t get to meet you down here but hey, I’ll see you up there later won’t I? Long live the King of Pop.
Labels: deep stuff, Michael Jackson, tribute to
When Math textbooks attack indeed.
“Fight me if you dare Geometry. I’ll eat your pi!”
–Qawi A.
After 8 long hours of Math revision on my bed, with a lot of TV and MSN breaks in between, I have finally put my pens and graph paper riddled with careless doodles of tornadoes and cumulonimbus stormclouds down. I am ready.
Even after everyone, especially myself, living in denial about the exams not coming anytime sooner for the past couple of months, it’s right here, just a good nine hours away. Indeed, I am still caught up in a holiday lag from last year. Oh for the love of sexgods, when will my brain kick into overdrive?! It’s still up there, hibernating an endless winter away inside the hollow my skull. Hello, brain, haven’t you got any priorities at all?!
Henceforth, I dedicate this entry to my fellow Year 10 chums, those who are about to wake up tomorrow morning only to find that they have no less than 18 papers to sit for with no memory of having got there. Goodluck you guys, try not to screw up.
Since our first exam tomorrow’s good ol’ Math, here’s a little bit of trivia for ye:
Q: Shirley is vacant for 24 hours this Saturday, Monday and Thursday and vacant 14 for hours this Sunday. What is the total time of her vacancy if she was shot 4 hours before next Monday?
A: Your mom.
As a wise friend once said, “Your momma jokes neva’ get old.” Amen. Goodnight folks, hello Math exam rearing its ugly head, holding its integers akimbo.
Drawing courtesy of Qawi A. Hand off, it's copyrighted!
It is presently 14 minutes past midnight and I’m still awake despite the facts: a.) I have school tomorrow morning which is bad because b.) I can’t sleep for just four hours and not resemble a walking zombie which is pretty contradictory cause c.) I love to sleep. Must have been my chocolate intake.
-start of slightly graphic part of entry-
I think I’m still high on that chocolate bar I had about... fourteen hours ago. (It’s already half past twelve, I’m trying to keep it down in here) And in that fourteen hours – and still counting – period of chocolate intoxication, Richelle and I found a sexgod in our school. No wait; scratch that, not a sexgod, THE sexgod, the ultimate sexgod. In mine and Richelle’s eyes, he is the hottest, most bangable guy in school. And I’m not telling you who it is, so bite me. (Okay, just to clear things up, we do not have a crush on him – Richelle’s got Shammy for Pete Wentz’s sake – we just find him ridiculously good eye candy.
We’re probably gonna gang up on him and rape him someday. He’s just so bangable. WHY?!
Chels: Hey [insert name here], we’re gonna rape you one day.
Chelle: Yeap, someday, someday.
Mr. Bangable: Ha-ha. Yeah sure, nice.
How can a guy have that much sex appeal? Good heavens. Okay, so before I start going into a full-length, fully-fledged entry of how bangable this guy is, I’m gonna stop. [insert name here], if you are reading this, don’t flatter yourself too much. But if you let me live inside your closet, I promise not to go gaga over your sexgodism. Okay, will try not to go gaga.
(For Richelle’s take on sexgodism, click here.)
-end of slightly graphic part of entry-
“..and boredom loves me during BM.”
–Richelle Ret
Absolutely. It’s a one-sided affair but I couldn’t agree more. In light of the monotony, Chelle and I listed down our favorite things that start with ‘S’. Her top three were: Shammy, snowflakes & spaghetti. And to be honest, I wholly protest against the top three propaganda—wait, that would mean I’m protesting against myself seeing as I came up with the whole ‘top three’ thing. Right. Whatever. So anyway, I can think up of a lot of my favorite ‘S’ things hands down. My top three would be... Saturdays, stars and sexgods. HAHA. I’m joking. Replace that last one with showers. Saturdays, stars and showers. Lovely.
Mine and Richelle’s entire list goes like this though– no wait, scratch that, this isn’t the entire list; we’re still working on it. Okay, here’s what we got so far:
Chelsea and Richelle’s Favorite Things That Start With S
stars –R & C
Shammy - R
sleeping - C
spaghetti, red - R
spaghetti, white - C
snow – C
socks, colored – R & C
smoothies – R & C
sundaes – R
sausages – C
Sundays – C & R
the sea –R & C
summer – R & C
steak – C & R
salmon, smoked – C
sleeping – C
swimming – R & C
*** ** **** – C & R
songs – R & C
showers – R & C
the sky – C & R
snowflakes - R
salami – C
sandwiches, bacon – C
Skittles - C
sunshine – C& R
sleeping – C
shoes – R & C
snogging – R & C
singing –R & C
the sky at night– C & R
serendipity - C
sarcasm – C
smusic – R & C
swriting – R & C
sinstant noodles – C
and of course,
our sexgod – C & R
Oh, and did I mention sleeping? Speaking of which, it’s 1:21 am. I have about... five hours left in bed. Anything else you want to add to that list? Leave it in the cbox, thanks very mucho. I’m gonna do my list some justice, call it a night and go to bed.
Good dawn, world. This day has been strange—holy cheesecake! I forgot another ‘s’ word! SUSHI. Sushi is the shizz, I kid you not. Okay, now I’m hungry.
Vamanos!
Labels: F.R.I.E.N.D.S., people, qoutes, TV shows
On weekend that changed everything.
Erase, erase, those memories with you are far gone and I’m glad for that.
I’ve left this town and don’t expect me back.
*
It’s 1:41 on Saturday morning. Not a very good time to be awake, but the night has been yet again bursting with emotional trauma and I really doubt I’ll be getting any more than four hours of sleep tonight.
Still, there’s no harm in trying. (No point in it either, to be fair.)
*
I’ll find it. I’ll find it someday. It could even be right here, right now, talking to me on MSN, telling me to get to bed before because I have school in the morning. Damn. I have school in the morning. Oh, sigh.
I’ll best be off. Till the next episode then fellas.
Good morning world, have a great weekend.
To Justeen Carlo A. Francisco;
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DOUCHENOZZLE.
You’re awesome. (But hush, don’t tell Izaq I said that!)
I’ve had my own share of memories with you and they were great. Well, maybe except for that time when you—nevermind.
God bless you and try not to make a mess out of your life, alright buddy?
Love, xx.
ps. You owe me eleven boxes of chocolates!
And to the one & only Amadeus Izaq S. Dumlao;
my hubuhuhbuhuhhbukuluhuguhuh buddy!
(Seriously man, I’ve forgotten what all that stood for)
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, AWESOMENESS.
(It’s your birthday, so I’m gonna cut you some slack and humor you.)
You know you’re epic. (In your own little world, that is)
You can be such a dickhole at times, but heck; you’re still “epic”.
Normally, I’d say something clever here but... my brain’s a little woozy from all your awesomeness.
And dude, hang in there.
Life can be friggin’ hard,
but the trick is trying harder than it.
And you know we’re always here for you, I just hope you frigging remember that, always.
Love,
your hubuhuhbuhuhhbukuluhuguhuhujushuhusu buddy.