Each city has a story. This one was partly told by a set of pretty blue eyes under the CN Tower. I got lost in those midnight sky amidst a late night drive before drifting apart.
Each city has a story. This one was partly told by a set of pretty blue eyes under the CN Tower. I got lost in those midnight sky amidst a late night drive before drifting apart.
This is it! Rule-bender is finally going up to blog heaven.
This site has gone from expressing my hatred for my boss to becoming an outlet of my frustrations when it comes to matters of the heart.
I knew I have outgrown this blog whenever I cringe at the sound of hearing the word “rule-bender”. I can’t even remember how I came up with that name. From what I know now, when you don’t like the rules, you don’t bend them. You just change them completely.
I’m not shutting Rule-bender down. I’m just keeping this on the side. It sure would be nice to read this from time to time and look how far I’ve grown from then. No more shitty job, no more complicated love problems, no more pretentious advice.
To those who have expressed appreciation of this blog, I’m sorry to say that the blogger who came up with all those shit is not here anymore. People grow, people move on, and people have to deal with their lives without a crappy blog.
But….this is not entirely the end. Who knows? Something better might come along. You know me, I always have some shit to say. And there is no damn way of shutting me the fuck up.
Thanks to all the readers. Rule-bender is now signing off.
I can’t flirt. I have been to 107 cities, read 204 books and passed 179 units in college. After 156 menstrual cycles, there is only one thing I’m sure of. I’m a terrible flirt. I guess I haven’t really come to terms with liking someone and forming close friendship with them, only to risk making things horrifically awkward by telling them you like them.
Easy for me to say when after all these years my idea of flirting basically sums up to: a) not looking like a dork b) not being seemingly eager c) not being weird and d) not being creepy in any sense. As you may see, if you use my flirting styles, you really don’t have to do much. But despite all efforts, I eventually failed in applying the flirting techniques that I myself made.
I cannot count how many times I have been romantically affiliated with anyone, not because they’re too many, but because it’s just plain embarrassing to recall. Infants have done better “beautiful eyes” than me. Well, at least I have memorized The Owl and the Pussy Cat when I was five. That was very impressive, I know. Too bad that doesn’t count as flirting.
Abnormal ba ako? Putang ina. Ang tanda ko na, bakit hindi pa rin ako marunong lumandi?
I’m usually a very witty person. Pero pag kaharap ko na yung crush ko, parang naka sleep mode yung utak ko. Kung anu-ano na nasasabi ko para may masabi lang. Word vomit. “Birthday mo pala. Ang galing ‘no?” Eh bakit ba hindi na lang ako nag happy birthday? Bakit ba walang cue cards ang mga wingmen ko? Walang silbi. Hindi ba kaya dapat nandiyan ang mga kaibigan mo para tulungan ka? Moral support my ass. Ang kailangan ko teleprompter. Palibhasa kung sila may Phd na sa kalandian, ako bonus round pa lang.
Perhaps I’m not doing it right. Maybe mind games aren’t for me after all. Eh weird talaga ako eh. What’s the use of the art of flirtation if you’re not being you? On the other hand, kung hindi ngayon, kailan pa? It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Seize the day. No guts, no glory. You only live once. If I can change the world, I would be the sunlight in your universe. Whatevs. I think I’ll just stick to being myself and praying to God that everything will fall where it should be. And I know it will. For what I lack in the art if flirting, I make up for the science of attraction. ❤
“We started over coffee…”—iyan ang sabi ng isang kanta. At doon nga tayo nagsimula. Itinuring ko ang ilang sulok sa Starbucks Coffee bilang historical landmarks na napag-ugatan ng ating pagsusuyuan. Sa mapait na inumin tayo magkwekwentuhan ng walang kakwenta-kwentang usapan. Mag-aasaran na wala namang patutunguhan. Minsan, sinadya ko talagang bagalan ang aking pag-inom. Dahilan ko lang naman iyon para maiuwi ko ang basurang may nakaukit pa ng pangit mong pangalan.
Wala akong pakialam kung pang-ilang kape ko na sa isang araw. May mga pagkakataon na nasosobrahan ata ako. At sa mga panahong iyon bawal na bawal ako gulatin at baka atakihin ako sa puso. Sobrang pagkabog ng dibdib at hindi na makatulog. Nasobrahan sa kape, nasobrahan sa iyo. Mapa Nescafe man, Mcdo o Starbucks, lahat ng klase ng kape papatulan ko basta kasama kita. Mistulang sugar at cream ka na tila nagpapatamis at nagpapasarap sa kapeng labis ng pait at tunay na nakakaadik. Sa ating pagakakape, nakita ko nalang ang sarili kong nahihirapan na mapahiwalay sa iyo katulad ng hirap na mapaghiwalay ko ang kape at yosi.
Hindi naman talaga ako naninigarilyo sa totoong buhay. Naiirita ako kapag naiisip kong ang baga ko ay mistulang squatter’s area na maya’t maya ay nauusukan ng mga smoke belcher at pabrika. Pero nang nakita kitang nagyoyosi, humingi ako ng isa sa iyo. Ang sarap kasi pagsabayin ng kape at yosi. They complement each other. Kaya sa tuwing magkasama tayo, napapayosi na rin ako. Hindi ko namamalayang naaadik na pala ako.
Naalala mo pa ba noong naiwan mo ang isang kaha ng sigarilyo mo? Talaga namang inangkin ko talaga iyon at itinago sa basurang memento na galing sa iyo. At nang nakita iyon ng aking nanay sinabi niya, “Hindi ko ata gusto ang lalaking iyan…He’s bad for your health.” Hindi ako nakasagot.
At tuluyan na nga ako nahumaling sa lintik na cancer stick. Sa pagiging, chain smoker, ako ngayon ay chain smokerer na. Hindi ko na nga alam kung anong putanginang nangyayari at bakit gustong- gusto ko talagang manigarilyo lalu na kapag kasama kita. Minsan nakakalito kung saan talaga ako nahuhumaling. Masarap kasi ang yosi pero masmasarap magyosi kapag ang kasama ko ay ikaw.
Parang eksena sa pelikula kung paano tayo pinagtagpo ng tadhana. Nakakatawa nga eh, nagbabasa ako ng “When God Writes Your Love Story” habang may nakasaksak na earphones sa tenga ko noong pag-angat ko ng mukha, nakita kitang dumaan sa harap ko. Nagkatinginan tayo ng ilang segundo pero nilampasan mo lang ako at patuloy ka sa paglakad mo. Ilang hakbang na ang layo mo noong lumingon ka sa akin. Ngumiti ako sa iyo at nginitian mo rin ako. Doon na nagsimula ang lahat.
Dumating ka sa buhay ko ng hindi ko inaasahan. Pero sa pagdating mo, kasabay noon ang pagbago ng mundo ko. Sa kabila ng pagiging abala ko sa maraming bagay, pagdating sa iyo, nasisira lahat ng plano ko. Hindi ko na napapansin ang oras kapag magkasama tayo. At napupuna ko na lang, lagi na kitang hinahahap. Parang hindi kumpleto ang araw ko kapag hindi kita nakikita. At kahit na lagi kitang nakakasama, mawala ka lang sandali sa tabi ko, miss na agad kita.
Lahat na ng kabaduyan, pumapasok sa isip ko kapag naaalala kita.
Mahal na nga yata kita.
Kahit hindi tama.
Bakit kaya kahit alam natin na nakakasama sa atin ang isang bagay, tinutuloy pa rin natin? Nakaka-cancer ang pagyoyosi, at nakaka-palpitate ang kape, pero na-a-adik pa rin tayo dito. Bakit? Kasi iba ang pakiramdam na nabibigay ng yosi at kape. Kaya kahit masama, kahit alam natin sisingilin tayo ng katawan natin sa panandaliang kaligayahan na iyon, tinutuloy pa rin natin. Kasi sa kasalukuyan, masaya tayo.
Parang ikaw… alam ko na hindi ka nakakabuti sa akin. Alam ko na dadating ang panahon, masasaktan lang ako sa iyo. Pero bakit habang maaga pa, hindi ako umiiwas? Kasi sa ngayon, napapasaya mo ako. Napupunan mo ang ilang taong pagkukulang sa buhay ko. At pinapadama mo sa akin ang mga bagay na akala ko noon, hindi na darating sa akin.
Ikaw ang yosi at kape ng buhay ko. Hindi ko maiwas-iwasan, hindi ko kayang tanggihan, kahit na alam ko na iisa lang naman ang patutunguhan nito – sakit sa puso.
So I am writing this a few days after the big shenanigan. By this time, I am hoping that Pacquiao fans have a partially recovered and the Filipino boiling blood had finally died down.
Manny Pacquiao is the best boxer ever – hands down. He has surely made a long way from being a balut vendor to the People’s Champ that he is now. He could knock out any opponent if he could in no time. So when I heard he is going to have a fight with this Timothy Bradley dude, the thought of another hero’s welcome came across my mind. I did not watch the fight. No, really. I was catching up with the Saturday Night Live reruns on another channel and I did not even consider the effort of catching it live. Not much of a sports fan, obviously. But as any other Filipino, I have already assumed the fact that he won. Well apparently, he didn’t.
Everyone was taken aback. I spent my time retweeting hate-sentiments of random celebrities because I, myself, could not even compose what my thoughts are at that moment. Shockingly, I did not know what to say. I watched the replays with the hopes that the decision be adverse and that Buffer retracts the shit he said. Sadly, it was the biggest lie that everyone saw in synchrony. And at that moment, I realized Snoop Dogg was right. That decision was bullshit, mothafucka!
As Pacquiao gracefully accepts his loss, all the rest spat on the match with much disgust. In my attempt to console the melancholy Filipino fighting spirit. I will recount to you why it is good that Pacquiao lost.
Among all things, the show Manny Many Prizes is the silliest thing I have ever seen on national TV. His attempt on acting and hosting is the biggest disgrace on the craft of entertainment. I would like to give him props for Show Me Da Manny but that show named after him only gave him two speaking lines per episode. Let’s not even recall the movies he had made in the past or else I’d be swallowing a mouthful of vomit in no time. I am sure there are lots of ways to help the poor Filipinos and he being an actor is not one of them.
I commend Manny for wanting to share his blessings to his countrymen. Putting up a business might be a good way to uplift the economy but I plead to God that he does not pursue politics anymore. I do not support his ideals in any way, or the little birds ass-kissing their way to the famed athlete. I hope he and Chavit Singson finds the time to read The Common Misconceptions on RH Bill. If he cannot, he can ask his bitch, Buboy Fernandez to read it for him. I am pretty convinced he has done similar favor when it comes to the Bible.
Manny mixes his devotion with politics. The State and the Church are separate entities for a reason. I cannot support a politician who does not support the minority. A decent congressman cannot say, “I represent the Filipinos…except the homosexuals.” Like the poor, if they have the choice to be a part of the majority or be ridiculed, they would probably choose the former. Though he denied quoting Leviticus, I will still quote Jesus, “Let the sinless person cast the first stone.” One name I have in mind — Krista Ranillo.
No need for a flashback on Manny’s womanizing and gambling ways for he is now a changed man. Although a lot of critics blame his loss to his new-found devotion, I think it is sick that you blame religion more than you should blame the Celtics vs. Heat game. I am not sure if Preacher Manny could help him improve his game plan but I am very sure he could help him find himself as a person, and give Jinkee the peace of mind she deserves.
“I believe I won the fight,” Manny said with much conviction on his post-fight interview. I could not agree more. As his fans lose their dignity in the process of enumerating the reasons why the fight is bogus, Manny remained a real class act accepting whatever the judges say. He instead finds comfort in knowing that he is the real winner, and people with open-minds can see it clearly. The way I look at it, he really did win. In victory, he taught us what an ordinary person can achieve. And in defeat, he taught us what a respectable Filipino can stand for. That kind of person deserves a shrine in Monumento. I just hope the misjudgment will serve as a wake up call that he should focus on doing what he does best. He is a good boxer, a damn good one. Let’s keep it that way. When he knocks politics and showbiz out, then he could really get ready to rumble.
Many girls out there are asking: Why am I still single? I’m sure every other girl/woman/lady asks the same question. Pare-pareho tayo ng litanya: “I’m smart, I’m not completely unfortunate looking, I’m funny and I’m willing to commit but WHY THE FUCK AM I STILL SINGLE?” Well, instead of going crazy asking myself that question, I decided to come up with a few answers. I’m not saying I’m drop dead gorgeous and as smart as Marie Curie but come on, every guy I’ve talked to told me they want a smart, witty, sensitive and attractive girlfriend. I’m sure all the other ladies my age possess these qualities and at the risk of being redundant, we all ask ourselves: Why are we still single? Allow me to present the top three theories that sprung from my demented mind:
1. Naghihirap ang bansa natin at bumabagsak ang ekonomiya. Hindi naman kasi ganun kadali ang buhay ngayon di ba? Nagtitipid ang mga lalaki dahil mahal na ang bilihin ngayon. Sa panliligaw palang, kahit sa Dangwa ka bumili ng bulaklak, magkano na ang gagastusin mo. Isipin mo pa ang pang-gasolina papunta doon at ang katakot-takot na traffic. Eh di sana, ipinang-lunch na nila yun hindi ba?
Tapos siyempre dahil kailangan magmukha silang concerned, kailangan lagi nilang tinatawagan at pinapadalhan ng text messages ang nililigawan nila. Isipin niyo nalang yung load na nagagastos nila or yung binabayaran nila sa bill ng telepono. Minsan, demanding pa tayong mga babae dahil gusto natin imported na chocolates or flowers na mamahalin. Kung hindi naman tayo demanding, gusto lang talaga nila magpa-impress kaya mamahalin ang ibibigay na mga regalo/suhol sa nililigawan.
Siyempre, pag naging kayo na, magastos parin. Because of the infamous male ego and pride, hindi pwedeng sagot ni babae ang date kaya si lalaki parin ang magbabayad. Kahit KKB, gagastos parin si lalaki. Sayang ang pera. Even if you love each other that much, love won’t pay for the movies you know. And think of the gifts. Every Christmas, birthday, Valentine’s Day, Anniversary, etc., you have to give your significant other something. Especially pag Christmas kasi sisipsip pa sa magulang, kapatid, pinsan, etc. ng girlfriend/nililigawan at bibigyan sila lahat ni boyfriend/manliligaw ng regalo. Mahirap kumita ngayon dahil mataas ang unemployment rate, mahal ang bilihin at likas na kuripot ang mga lalaki. Hence, females like me have no boyfriends.
2. May mga babaeng perfectionist. Admit it, every female is looking for the perfect man. Apparently, the perfect man does not exist… yet. What are the qualities we look for in a man? Gwapo, mayaman, responsible, mature, sensitive, funny, smart, presentable, gentleman… the list is endless. We have to face the fact that the perfect man doesn’t exist kasi it’s practically impossible to find all these qualities in one man. If we ever do, the guy is gay, a priest or in a realtionship! No, I’m not saying that we have to settle for second best but maybe, just maybe, the perfect guy is out there, we just have to lower the standard a notch. He might not be perfect in every way but his flaws just might be the very reason that you will love him. Because his imperfections may be the reason why he might need the person made for him… for that person to be the one to pick him up when his flaws take him down. I’m not sure if that made sense but I do hope you get the point.
3. The last great theory (and the most likely) of my demented mind is that there are more males born than females every minute of the day. I don’t know what the ratio is now but a couple of years back it was four females to one male. Can you believe that? Imagine sharing one boyfriend with three others. Plus you have to face the fact that maybe that one male wants to be a female. Or that one male devotes himself to God. Siyempre, hindi mo kakaribalin ang Diyos di ba? Or that one male is taken. Would any female want to play second fiddle? I know I wouldn’t.
Patience is a virtue, that’s my mantra. The theories I made up are just there to console me whenever I feel I’m missing out on something because I’m single. Case in point: Valentine’s Day or weddings or family gatherings na hinahanapan ako ng boyfriend. He’s out there somewhere, the boyfriend that at the moment is missing in action. While he’s not there yet, enjoy being single. Sabi nga ng iba, wala pa tayong sakit ng ulo and pag gigimmick, sa parents lang tayo magpapaalam at walang message na biglang darating from a boyfriend asking us where we are, who we’re with and what time tayo uuwi. The perfect guy for me will come along when I’m not looking for it. And when he does, I’m sure everything will be worth the wait.
The world watched as the sixteen year-old Jessica Sanchez climbed her way to superstardom. The half-Filipino, half-Mexican singer crawled into the Top 2 finalists of the most popular talent-search show by nailing sky-high ballads such as And I am Telling You I’m Not Going, I Will Always Love You and I Don’t Wanna Miss a Thing. With her soulful voice and unique renditions, JSan proved the world that she has what it takes to be the next American Idol.
Although the teen sensation has grown major followings from American Idol viewers and voting campaigns has become prevalent, I have my reasons why I wouldn’t vote for her as the next Idol. Here’s why:
First and foremost, voting is not possible outside USA. Even if it is, I’m too lazy to find out how. It’s not her, it’s me.
Second, I believe Filipinos are only rooting for her only because she is a Filipino. I do not have any problem with that. She truly holds the Three Stars and a Sun for us and has shown the world what world-class Filipino talent is. However, this Filipino pride pandemic spreading like a contagion only symbolizes our country’s ignorance and immobility.
The Philippines is truly a home of gifted people. But so are other nations. How many times have we adored a Filipino celebrity solely on talent? Manny Pacquiao has been around for too long as a boxer but it is only when he gained Las Vegas frenzy that everyone started purchasing Pambansang Kamao merchandise and sang with him to the (off-) tune of Sometimes When We Tats. Take Charice for example. No one but a sore loser in an amateur singing contest, beaten down by Mr. Pogi Sam Concepcion who now is…I don’t know, is he still alive? I reckon ASAP Rocks would not even give her a three-minute spot if it weren’t for Oprah’s seal of approval. I raise my middle finger to westernization.
Jessica Sanchez is already our Idol, even if Seacrest will announce otherwise. Americans need not influence our opinion. As she reaches the high notes on the finale, so will the Filipino hopes and dreams. Long after Season 11, she will remain to be an epitome that a small Filipino can truly stand tall.
Filipinos can take ownership for her success. I can attest to that. But while you vote for Jessica because you consider her as a “true Filipino talent” she has already won my heart for being a “true talent – period”.
Since the ancient times of the sixties, our parents have witnessed a significant amount of people who have been bending the rules through arts – may it be in fashion, music, literature, religious and political views. These people have evolved through time from what we called ‘beatniks’ and now, ‘hipsters’. These 21st century nonconformist fools were theorized to be originated from mega cities such as Brooklyn, Los Angeles, San Francisco, Melbourne and London where arts and culture are heavily revered. However, no word from Mr. Webster could really encompass their description up to this date.
My hypothesis on why the so-called ‘hipsters’ are rampant in these venues is because their government does not have much pressing problems to focus on, thus, they have the luxury of time in developing and spreading this epidemic. Albeit Philippines is on the opposing pole of this situation, I believe that our country, despite the lack of financial support from the administration, can put their best foot forward for the sake of cheap imitation of the west (i.e. Spiderman vs. Gagamboy, class A Louis Vuitton bags and pirated DVDs).
For your guidance, I have listed down head-to-toe tips on how any regular Filipino can dress like a hipster:
If you’re too lazy to maintain a long ‘do, you may opt for a short pixie haircut. Think Nick Carter post-Backstreet’s-Back-alright. Just make sure you use gel or hairspray to make it look as if you have just gotten out of bed. Play Garbage’s Androgyny while you’re at it.
Following these tips might seem like such a fun idea. But prepare yourself to be ridiculed by fellow hipsters. For them, hipsters are no more than social pests who are exploiting post-war cultures as if it is ready-to-wear. Hipsters hating hipsters is not hypocrisy. It is from the very core: irony. I wish you put a mental post-it note on that word. At the end of the day, nobody likes hipsters. Even they hate themselves. I do not blame them.
While you are on your way to the thrift store, I hope you remember the emo kids you have left to perish on Dashboard Confessional forums. Pray to God you don’t suffer the same fate. While you consider yourself superior to those who embrace the ‘lamestream’, while you hold disdain for music that has gained exposure, I hope you also think about the conforming ways you do to counter normalcy. Does conformity define the rebel that you really are? Is this really a movement you desire to be fitting in? A movement towards what? Is this the vapid generation you wish to contribute to your country? If so, why? Do you really need me to tell you all these? Seriously? I mean, seriously?