life is complicated as we know it. and ironically, as we move along and get a little wiser, we complicate it even more. we work 40 hours  a week, even more at times, to have the means to make life easier for we. we sweat blood laboring the days to finally have enough means to buy easy living. but most of the time it is that wanting for an easier life that makes it hard. a paradox, a conundrum. you need to wok extra hard to buy time with a ‘professional’ whose advise always read, take it easy cowboy, you’re not in a race. eehh? now you tell me?

life is a race. life is complicated, unfair and will beat you to a pulp when you least expect it. and yet they want us to believe that life is not mean. i know now realize and fully understand that life is what we make it. there is no zen or new-age class that can teach you what life is about or how it should be. in our thirst to make a meaning out of everything, we are left wondering and feeling unfulfilled. why should it mean something? there is no generic, cookie cutter, cardboard layout answer to it. you are not here to leave a legacy, to donate schools or help starving children.t now that would be cruel, setting expectations before hand. but it doesn’t mean you don’t have to help others.  as i see it, to make life simple, you just need to live it. no expectations.

listening to:  
Josh Groban – Josh Groban : Vincent (Starry, Starry Night)

hat is so casual about sex? letting that person in your apartment, giving glimpses on how you live. you walk pass the living room, complimenting the big ming dynasty vase you inherited from your angkong; trying to make small talk in an akward moment going to your room. inside, a perfectly made queen size bed with a hypoallergenic, 500 count egyptian cotton bedding and goose feather pillows you ordered online. sharing a bed with another person, in a confined space adorned with stacks of books you’ve collected your lifetime and tall zen lampshade wrapped in recycled paper with dried leaves and wild flowers. you locked the door, from behind he reached for your waistband, promising in your ear a goodfantastic shag while slowly working your crisp, white, italian linen shirt off your body. joni mitchell singing in the background from the day when you were reading your book of the week while sipping a glass of pinot, set to muffle the would be sounds made.  and it start, nibbling ear lobes, sweet, tender kisses that turned into passionate kisses, eager hands exploring each other’s body. all clothes are off, 2 naked bodies in unison. no pretensions exist between, only the wanting and lust. kisses led to moans, and to another, and to another until you reached pure bliss. for a brief moment, you showed this other person your most vulnerable; reaching your climax. lying in bed, sweaty against the cold breezes of the air conditioning unit beside the bed. you both get up, and started to get dress. the guy saw your pictures by the vanity of your recent trip with your boyfriend, hands wrapped around each other, kissing. he asked where it was taken while zipping. zurich, you said while putting on cologne from one of the bottles beside the stack of cds at the vanity counter near the armoire. in 2 minutes, both of you were completely dressed. making your way downstairs, pass the living room, to the main door, in complete silence. and he was gone.

ow casual is sharing a bed with another person? it’s difficult to tell, i can not speak for other people. the casualness passed at the time when you let other people in your life. when other people knows something about you, those small details that make you you-how you tie your shoe lace, your ref magnet collection, that patch of hair on your right thigh-you have crossed the line of being casual to, something more than casual. it’s iffy, he knows too little to be a friend but a lot to be just acquaintances; the in-between. but for most people the casualness of a quick fuck is not knowing the other person and the probability that they’ll never see them again. is that it? are we now reduced to wishful thinking of inexistence? haven’t that guy just gave you the best eff-ing of your life? to some, it’s perfectly sane to exchange dna, not names.

guess that is why i am still celibate. i will not be a notch on someone’s list. nor will i be a wishful thinking of inexistence. some people have casual sex because they can, to some it’s about living large. me, i don’t see anything casual in sex. only the illusion we want it to be casual that we believe it to be. smokes and mirrors.

listening to:
Affirmation – Savage Garden: Two Beds And A Coffee Machine

this year is all about me. hear me out, this year is ME.

listening to:
Velvet Rope – Janet Jackson: Together Again

let me hate myself a little more since i will not be able to do my to-do list. i got back from istanbul by first week of august. did my usual routine, or tried to at least. a month later, after a long day at the office, i got home and saw a pile of letters all form metrobank. as it seems they have increased my credit limit (1 mail), congratulating me for acquiring 25,000++ rewards points (1 mail), my pin for my visa card so i can withdraw money from the atm (1 mail) and the dreaded monthy statement. i know i have been a little extravagant to myself and to friends (admit it!) this month. i love to pamper myself after a very tiring day or a very long journey. i did more than my usual shopping… like 100k shopping to be exact. spend less my ass! to my  defense, all is not in luxury. i bought a flat 19″ wide screen monitor for my laptop. am being kind to my eyes (health!) and it emits less radiation and heat (environment friendly!). and i did shop for my nephews and nieces.

[someone might kill me]… i might go back to istanbul. if all hell breaks loose, the whole team will go back there. and i will lead them to the pits of hell. my manager, argued that in any case not the whole team, which made me . then pointed out that i will still be part of the team that will deliver the product onshore, . so if the manila delivery team won’t meet the criteria on the first milestone, my ass is off to shawarma land. [am feeling irish's wrath...] am bargaining though that we’ll come back christmas time and be back right after. and christmas time starts at december 14, 2 days before irish’s grand-event-of-the-millenia-all-star-cast wedding. have i told you it’s for until february next year?

friend-who-don’t-want-to-be-named will be leaving earlier that expected. my gimik buddy for the last 2 years will be leaving for the swiss canal. well if i am to leave for istanbul again, i might drop by to the swiss alps and ski my way back to constantinople via the frozen black sea. never been to switzerland… i wonder if the snow there is whiter than the snow in alaska.

richard is in korea eating kimchi. hopefully he’ll bring me an autographed picture of martin. hay….

schizo who is with a new company now is, like me, bored as hell with work. don’t get us wrong, we are stump to our necks with work. but we’re bored doing it. it so happen that we are getting tired doing the same old thing. he wanted to quit but is like me, up-to our waist in debt. freaking plastics! and he’s crediting me for introducing him to beautiful things… is that bad?

everyone’s out of the country or leaving…

biatch!

i have the most unussual mother-son bonding experience… i bought a do it yourself hair dye kit. it’s not one of those trying hard color like auburn or ash or strawberry blonde color. i like my hair black, it’s just this gray hairs that’s annoying me. when i was having my over due hair do-over, i saw gray hairs sticking out like it was a sore thumb. so i decided to color my hair “natural black” as the box of l’oreal hair dye would call it. with mom watching rome in hbo and more that enough hair dye, i applied hair dye on my mom’s thinning scalp. being naive on these things, she was squeeling about not wanting any. i hushed her by making funny hand gestures (i was wearing gloves with fita biscuits in my mouth). so it’s me, my mom and rome waiting for 30 minutes (as instructed by the leaflet) before we wash off.

earlier, me and juanie decided to get out of the dump we were in-the office. we walked along swantsons st towards starbucks. i am addicted to coffee, i can’t go on a day without coffee-and a slice of blueberry cheesecake . venti drip coffee, blueberry cheesecake, $7.50 down the drain. juanie was having her monthy curse so i let her lead the way. she took the little collins way to elizabeth st. walk walk walk then something spoke to me. “enter”… “enter”… it whispered. i look on my right and saw… shoes! amazing, amazing shoes! at myers. i has really looking for a good shoe shop here that suit my style and the pants i bought at yd. it’s a bit on the fatigue-brown shade, it goes well with the bunch of black shoes that i have at home but it looks amazing on brown shoes. and i haven’t got one. so i was on the hunt for the perfect brown shoes. i entered with a venti coffee at my right and cheesecake that my left. looking, appreciating the lovely beauties on the rack, talking to me so softly, so gently… 2 styles stoodout, their voices louder than the others. both amazing craftmanship, beautiful soft brown leather, european cut… but alas only one will grace my foot and be called as the SHOE.

with a myers bag in tow, i am now $330 poorer and a brown shoes richer.

happy birthday. i know you are having a blast…

coming here in australia kinda put a pressure on my fashionista register. before i went here, mike who’s from here that’s on a business trip in manila said that everyone here is fashioin conscious. me, the proverbial clothes-r-us pull out my resources… clothes in the closet that i won’t wear on a regular day, my new metrobank visa card (van heusen and memo got a real swipping with this one), my killer shoes, tons of hair products… i won’t be caught dead being the one who’s not blending. now, 6 weeks later, i realized that it was just hyped. indeed they are more fashion savy than the people in rural princeton new jersey-3 piece suits everywhere!, but they are no tokyo japan (still i don’t get their fashion sense) nor paris france.

i over stuffed my luggage with clothes that’s good for a month without repeats, a fashion calendar itemizing what pair to wear on a certain day, 4 different colognes to match my clothes… all for nothing!

gawd!

i think it’s over-rated.