truth be told, we all need to be swept off our feet – at least once in our life.

worry about being dropped on your head, later.

well nothing to do with chicken really. It’s just that lately, i haven’t been getting much sleep. i’m sleepy and my eyes are droopy but when i finally hit the bed, no amount of tossing and turning can shut down my brain.

while talking to one of my best friends earlier, we came across this week’s million dollar question: WHY DO WE FIND BALANCE IN IMBALANCE? (yes that includes me, sometimes)

why do some people like looking for problems where there are none? or shaking up steady situations with imaginary issues? creating drama, rejecting stability? and for what? to feel more alive?

personally, i blame it on all the books i’ve read and the movies i’ve seen and the music i’ve listened to. they paint such beautiful pictures of tragedy and melancholy that you can’t help but be curious if they feel as beautiful as they seem in your imagination. in movies, the protagonist is always poor, mediocre, or bullied (etc etc) but they fight through it. and in the end they win. in between are scenes wherein you find the protagonist in tears, not knowing what to do – so close to giving up. making bad choices, suffering through the consequences. but the important part is that they win in the end… i guess.

a lot of people have said that it’s not the destination that matters, but the journey itself.

i think that’s it. and for some people they kinda get stuck in the journey. they’ve forgotten that there is still a goal to be reached.

the staring-out-the-window-while-it-rains-outside or the smoking-a-cigarette-while-drinking-coffee-and-staring-off-into-space while the protagonist contemplates what the meaning of his life is, has been romanticized too much so that some people actively look for opportunities to do it.

ewan. i’m too brain dead to have a point (again). i guess yeah, maybe i’ve taken this journey thing too seriously and add to that the constant search for the perfect rom-com movie scene. that before sunrise moment. or to have a guy do a complete 180 and stand outside your window for hours playing a campy song from his boombox. or maybe to have that least likely guy to pay you any attention suddenly defying his parents’ and peer’s expectations just to be with you. or to have a guy you like make you a mix. or to have your mortal enemy end up to be your soul mate. i can go on for days, but i won’t.

and this is just love we’re talking about. we also have the career goals, the hopes and dreams, etc etc but that’s for a different post.

so yeah, back to the imbalance. dunno. why is it that some people just can’t be contented with what they have? especially if that something they have is already more than anyone can wish for? why look for something else? why desire for something that is more likely not going to happen – in any lifetime?

If the destination is happiness why do some people perennially make choices that are obviously bound to make them feel otherwise?

since i don’t know why, i’ll just keep on blaming the movies and the books and ben folds five. hahaha.

Me: eh yung kinilig ako dito kahit di ko sila kilala http://30.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_m02qubHIg31roxle0o1_500.gif

Jao: parang bading yun guy :))

No matter the miles… I always hand carry my sadness

- kaka, circa 2007

Maybe it’s as simple as “I’m an escapist”. But I’d like to think it’s more than that.

I’d like to blame it on all of the books I’ve read growing up. The Tales of the Otori. Alice In Wonderland. Wizard of Oz. Peter Pan. Norweigan Wood. Etc. The Magazines. The Travel Guides I’ve seen lying around the house when I was a kid.

Maybe it was seeing the pictures my mom took home when she got back from a conference, a training, her work sent her to. With tales about the freezing temperature in Frankfurt, the scary plane ride and the sheep in New Zealand, the theme parks in the States that made my 8-year old self wide eyed and asking for more.

Maybe it was the feeling I get when the plane just landed and I’m lined up at the immigration, waiting for my passport to get stamped. A map, my itinerary in my bag. A list of things I needed to see, experience, taste in a piece of paper – my lifeline in a country I do not belong in. Excited. Anxious. Dying to get out of the airport so I can start getting lost.

Maybe it was the high I get from getting off random train stations, walking by myself in a street that I cannot find in the map I was holding (most probably because I can’t read a map to save my life) – looking like a tourist but feeling like a traveler. My feet will hurt eventually, and I will be wondering how to get back to where I’m staying at and to my friends – but there will be that place and knowing that after a few hours of walking around aimlessly has changed me (in a way).

Or maybe it’s just that the world is so big and there are just so many things to see, experience, and do. And knowing that one tiny town can hold generations worth of stories reinforces the fact that I am just one inconsequential speck and there’s an entire universe out there that’s waiting to be explored.

I don’t know why, really why there’s this need for me to hop on the next plane out and walk around a place I’ve never been to.

To be honest, this post has no point (like most of my posts). All I know is that I have this itch that I need to scratch. I want to pack my bags again and get on a plane with my passport, a few change of clothes, and my passport (money will be needed to). And be somewhere else other than this little room in our office, typing out a blog entry about being somewhere else (and working too).

If zombies come and do invade us, what can we do about it? So many rules and guidelines for survival have already been written but how sure are we that they would work once the zombies come? Right now, I just want to be able to purchase a bullet proof, 4 wheel drive truck/jeep, a dozen shotguns, pistols, rocket launchers, thousands of ammo, an axe, a cross bow and a broad sword. I want to build an underground shelter underneath a gasoline station and a supermarket, stock up on supplies and start making wooden stakes in case the vampires shortly follow.

I should’ve been born with super powers.

When the things you like remind you of the person you want to punch in the face…

I met this person (ok, a guy) some time ago at a party. He was cute – just to get that out of the way. But the important part was how he became a person of interest. Boy was pretty smooth, I have to admit. He was my “Before Sunrise” moment. Just like the movie. What started out to be just a drop off, ended up to be a drive home and the two of us talking til the wee hours with just a bottle of wine between us.

And he pushed the right buttons. Actually, I don’t remember how the conversation went anymore but I remember sitting side by side in the park bench outside our house and just laughing and laughing and laughing. I think we talked about the bands we liked, our favorite movies, the tv shows we watched. And we had a lot of those things we both liked – and they left me wondering (probably out loud) why I haven’t met him before.

And I had the warm fuzzies. That warm fuzzy feeling you get at the pit of your stomach. Butterflies. Tornadoes. A blessing of unicorns. An unkindness of ravens. It felt nice. And I remember it so well because I haven’t felt that way in a long time.

And the highlight to this romcom-esque night was when he leaned in to kiss me. And for a moment, I thought, “well this must be that can’t-eat-can’t-sleep-reach-for-the-stars-jump-over-the-fence-world-series kind of stuff that Diane Lane talked about in It Takes Two”.

And the moment had to end.

I did see the guy a couple of times after that. All amazing times for me. But just like the rest of my love stories, this ended with him disappearing. Ninja Vanish. Poof. And that left me hanging and thinking and struggling with unresolved issues/feelings and unanswered questions for a while.

After awhile I found out he got back with his ex and he moved to a land far far away.

We still talk sometimes – barely. Short messages over Facebook and YM. Nothing worth overthinking about. But he’s still the same. He still manages to push the right buttons for me. But the warm fuzzies have been replaced by that overwhelming need to punch him in the face just to get all that unresolved blah out of my system.

Well no, I’m lying the warm fuzzies are still there. And they’re nice feelings so I’m glad they haven’t completely gone away. Even with the realization/acceptance that this was just… something casual.

At least I have an interesting story to tell my friends over beer and whining.

Instead of posting my Christmas wishlist I’ll start a series of gift ideas for family members, significant others, best friends, etc. Why? Because I just feel like it. Maybe I’ll be hit by an inspiration on what to give my family and friends.

Who am I kidding? After the series, I’ll still post my wishlist.

Tuesday nights are always Ponti Nights (Ponti being the bar at the 2nd floor of our building). I try to make it a point to at finish by 8pm on Tuesdays (since I end much later the rest of the week anyway) lest I go crazy from work-related stress. I think I’m nearing my burn out point.

So anyway, Tuesdays. Ponti Nights. My friends from work and I would buy our set of beers (3 for P100 if you’re a VIP which we’ve become thanks to being at Ponti every Tuesday since January and nearly everyday 2010) and a pizza or a platter of wings (if we have more than P100 in our pockets), and gossip for the next 2 hours.

More often than not, we would sing our hearts out to 90s pop music that the dj would be playing. If we’re lucky, it would be Rocke-oke night so we get to sing our hearts out to 90s pop music in front of a group of equally-drunk people with a band to back us up.

But then, sometimes, we have the bad nights.

Bad nights can be defined as nights when we go down too late like say, 10pm and a gaggle of giggly yuppies fresh from college or law school students come in. You can tell by their outfits, usually. And for this post, let me focus on the giggly girls fresh from college.

They’re giggly. And there’s a gaggle of them. With their designer bags and a glass of cocktail in their hand they fleet from table to table air kissing friends. They seem to know everybody or have a friend in every table. They probably went to college, party, drink, together or whatever the case may be, the whole bar is a clique (minus us, the oldies).

One thing I noticed about them is that… NOT ONE OF THEM IS FAT! I’ll be damned if any of them is over 120lbs, heights ranging from 5’2 to 5’9″ most probably high heels included.

So they can wear skin-tight jeans, tank and or cropped tops, unforgiving polyester dresses and you will not see an iota of bulge,fat,stretch marks, cellulite or even a misplaced pimple. WHAT DID THESE KIDS DO? Was there something in the milk they were drinking that we didn’t have that made them this… (nearly) perfect?

I find myself envying them and how they carry themselves. They can walk without a problem (and some people can even dance and run) in 5 inch heels (which are very pretty, mind you). No matter how short their skirts are, they still manage not to flash anybody! And let’s not even talk about make-up coz for the life of me I can’t even put on lipstick without getting some on my teeth.

basically they all look something like this minus the coat and the knee high boots

And yeah, they’re all so pretty.

I know that they don’t represent the norm of the society. They’re just like 10% of their age group.

But they’re all so different from the girls I’m used to. (The hipster kids)

but 10 lbs heavier hehehe.

But at least the universe is fair. When I run into these kids in the restroom, I hear them puking in the stall next to mine and I laugh on the inside. I see them stumbling and barely able to walk in their 5 inch heels while severely drunk and I thank the gods I have enough sense in me to wear shoes I can walk in. So yeah they may have looked good when they walked in, but with their runny make up and the zombie walk – I look much better than they do (at least in my head I do).

And let’s not even talk about the “talking”. High-pitched conyo speak has the same effect on me as nails scratching on boards. Grating.

But I have friends who are these kids and I still love them to bits. And I love how they let me make fun of them :)

But I will never ever understanding how they can bring themselves to snort alcohol.

Thanks to the boob tube I’ve been recently obsessed with the prospect of living through Zombie Apocalypse.

Last night, watching the first episode of Walking Dead, there was this particular scene that made my skin crawl. The survivors, while gathering provisions in a highway full of abandoned cars (a graveyard, if you will have it) suddenly chances upon a throng of migrating zombies. A THRONG! MIGRATING! ZOMBIES! so they had to hide under cars while waiting for the last of the zombies to pass through.

Imagine yourself already stressed and wary from having to run away from a supposed safe place because the zombies were coming. You’re tired, low on supplies and rushing to go about your business before dark happens. And then you turn around for a second and you see hundreds and thousands (ok maybe just hundreds) of zombies coming towards you. And you don’t know what to do and where you can go. If you make a noise they will know you’re there. They can smell you. THERE’S ABSOLUTELY NOTHING YOU CAN DO!! How do you hope to fight a huge group of rotting, flesh eaters? They’re fast. They don’t tire. They don’t feel pain (So fighting against them while they try to overpower you is no use, really) and a single bite or scratch can turn you into one of them. And one thing that can make it worse is if you see a familiar face amongst them (your dad, your best friend, your boyfriend – how are you supposed to shoot that? if it’s your boss or your ex, ok then shoot away!).

Imagine that wherever you go, you will be in this situation at any time, any day. And what if these zombies were the “28 Days Later” kind? They don’t just groan towards you, they run! And they’re mad! One day you will run out of gasoline for your vehicle, bullets for your gun, and your blade will go blunt. You will run out of hope, you will run out of strength and reason to fight.

There will be nothing else you can do but just run towards them and die. If you can’t beat them, join them, right?

Actually this post has no point. I’m just scared shitless of zombies. I’m on my feet (well truth is, I’m on my ass) all day thinking of things I have to do to prepare should Zombie Apocalypse hit us soon (2012 – end of the world… as we know it! perfect time for those zombies to show up, eh?)!

So I made a list of things that I think will help me survive Zombie Apocalypse (thanks to TV shows,books (may be about Armageddon, Rapture, whatever) my crazy friends, and a lot of paranoia):

1. Put metal railings on the windows – so even if they smash the glass windows into pieces, they still can’t get into the house.
2. Fortify the gates – make it higher, stronger, and remove all means of climbing over it.
3. Buy a hardcore 4×4 Land Rover – complete with 10 extra tires, GPS, solar powered phones
4. Buy a gasoline station franchise – so I never run out of gasoline (at least for the first few years of the apocalypse). I have to place this branch in a remote location, just have one pump, and make it look abandoned and empty so nobody uses it aside from me and my family (and friends if they’re alive)
5. Raid an artillery/Befriend a black market gun dealer – and load up on bullets, all sorts of guns, bazookas, grenades, flame throwers, anything that can help me kill those brain chompers!
6. Learn Wushu – so at least I can fight with swords, knives, scarves, curtains, whatever when I run out of fire power. I should befriend Jackie Chan, maybe he can help me fight with frying pans!
7. Buy a franchise of SM Hypermart or Pure Gold – and keep it closed. So all provisions are just mine, for my family (and friends, if they’re alive). I’ll put these branches in strategic locations in case I’m forced to be on the road.
8. Buy a bike – because sooner or later I’ll run out of gas but I need to be in a move so a bike it is. A solar powered car will do but what will I do if along with the Zombie Apocalypse, the sun burns out?
9. Do Cardio – yeah I watched Zombieland.
10. Cover our house, my car with pieces of rotting flesh – so at least they’ll think it’s just one of them and move away.
11. Never travel with old people – coz I will not be able to bring myself to leave them even if it means dying myself. (same thing with dogs – hello I am Legend)
12. Befriend a doctor and a soldier – coz at least one can fight and the other can treat the wounded.