There’s so much shiz going on this November and I am getting all hyped u[. I’m up and about doing photo shoots and styling for other photographers, just being on the road with people (seeing both new and old faces). It has only been a month and I feel like I’ve been given all sorts of “busy”, it’s sometimes too good to be true. This is what I like. I like dressing up in the morning, with hardly any sleep, not enough time to prepare for what’s coming next, packing my bag, filling my tumbler with caffeine for the road, enjoying all the sight-seeing, going home tired as fuq, and doing it all over again the next day. It reminds me a lot of 2012. It was the same AUTUMN-y feel. I always make it a point that, I get to be the compass for my team, always pulling them towards forests and open air. I just have that selfish feeling of having the need to feel the autumn breeze, if there was such thing as autumn in the Phil. But who cares man, I want to see dead leaves, and bald trees, and feel the gloom of dying plants… and get wind burns from this chilly season. I love this part of the year. I love it to death.
My boyfriend has a habit of keeping plastic and paper bags because he loves to recycle. He always finds a good use in what most people throw in the bin. Other people’s trash is always his treasure. I kept one of his paper bags with me from 7-11. Since I have no table lamp in my room at my grandparent’s house, I used the paper bag to improvise. Time to see how far my recycling skills would go!
The end result is this! It’s really cheap yet it looks chic. It only took me 5 minutes to finish this one!
So here’s what you’re gonna do… Firstly, grab everything you need.
1. Cut out a shape on your paper bag’s front side. It could be any shape! But I chose heart. I want to see a glowing heart because it symbolizes how mines glow because of my boyfriend. Omg I’m so cheesy, kill me now. *regurgitate*
2. Use the cut-out shape to trace the same shape on your lace. Make it at least an inch bigger.
3. Tape the lace on the inner part of your paper bag, exactly where the hole is. This will serve as your lining.
4. Now cut a 2-inch hole at the back side of your paper bag. This is where the Christmas lights’ electric cord is gonna exit.
5. Now cut out a hard paper with the size and shape of the bottom of your paper bag. This will serve as your lamp’s flooring. Then place it neatly inside.
6. Now put the Christmas lights and place it at the bottom. Pull the plug out from the back of your paper bag where you cut a 2-inch hole. Pull out at least 2-3 feet length of the Christmas lights so it can reach any outlet.
7. Fold down the top part of the paper bag thrice. Tape it or staple it in place.
8. Plug it and… voila!
Now I have a night lamp, I’ve recycled something and helped the world (even just a tinny bit), and I’ve made my boyfriend proud! Anyways, this project is dedicated to him. :-)
PS- Please do not use cheap Christmas Lights as they have the tendency to explode and might cause house fire. The more expensive the lights are, the more heavy duty it is. I use Starry String Lights .They’re about $10-$12 for the shortest length. It doesn’t use up so much electricity too! I got mine as a gift last Christmas but it is available on amazon.com for you guys.
I stand barefoot in front of my bedroom door with a knife in my hand, my toes feeling the rubble of dust and splinters from prying the knob open. I could feel my chest hiccup and my eyes burning. I was about to well tears like a baby. Frustrated and stressed, I was beginning to succumb to my subconscious spelling out my idiocy. How could I be so stupid? l closed my eyes and imagined the keys hanging in there, mocking me. Three friggen’ identical keys locked inside. “For the love of God, smash the door!”, my own mind seemed pretty pissed off too, now. But NO. I have all the time in the world to call a locksmith, wait for the locksmith, watch the locksmith work, pay the locksmith, thank the locksmith. Because the last time I smashed a door into smithereens, I had the need to. This time, this door doesn’t fence me out from a person who took his own life. I have all the time in the world to be locked out of this room, this room with an empty floor. I can wait…
"I just want you to adore and love the shit out of me. I just want you to miss me more the longer I’m gone so you would cross seas just to be beside me. I want you to look at me differently like there’s no other person that you’re supposed to be looking that way. I just want your Universe and my Universe to be one. I just want to be the only one. I just want to be your only one. I just want to own every second that you breathe. I am selfish, god damn I am selfish. Yes. I want you endlessly.
I always give every drop of the concentrate of my every being, and I want your everything or nothing at all. What part of that is very hard to understand?”
Arctic Monkeys - Do I Wanna Know? - AM. “We both know that the nights were mainly made for saying things you can’t say tomorrow day. Crawlin’ back to you, ever thought of calling when you’ve had a few? ‘cause I always do.”
Finding a good lighting is the key to a nice selfie. It makes you look fairer. A good window lighting is a good example but certainly a thin curtain (most preferably WHITE) will soften the harsh sunlight from the outside. The window reflection also creates a nice white gleam on your eyes. Master using the back camera of your iPhone especially if you’re stuck with 4S (since front cam is always grainy and low res). It is very inconvenient but you need to learn how to hold still and master where the shutter button lies. Blind shot, but practice makes perfect. And it’s okay to have 10-15 tries until you get a good one. A high-def selfie always looks better than a grainy one so deal with it! This is why I envy iPhone5 and S4 users!
Front Cam pictures are usually grainy and low-resolution!
Here’s a back cam image of me! You can see that there’s a ridiculous amount of difference!
If you have a phone app that can adjust the shadows and highlights of your image, you can also play with it. If you get the right adjustments, you can bring out the crispness in details such as your hair strands, your lashes, and other textures or even bring out the color of your eyes. You can skip skin softening! Milias, pimples, blackheads, whiteheads, zits, female mustache, they all bring interestingness so leave them!
This photo was taken with my iPhone 4S back cam edited with Adobe Photoshop for iPhones. Thank you for reading up to this point. xoxo
Hi dear :) My name is Sarina and I am helping a nonprofit named Soles4Souls with an art project to help increase brand awareness and donation funds. Can you please help by submitting a photo to my blog(s4sproject)? Your photo should look like the others I posted on my blog, but I won’t post yours unless you want me to. I will recreate your photo as a painting in a mural that is donated to Soles4Souls’ fight against poverty and those who go daily without shoes and other necessities. Thank you!
I would love to help! I’ll find some time to take a photo of my feet later tonight! :3
Hi beautiful! I just want to ask if your hair is naturally brown? Hehe
My hair is naturally DARK. Not brown, not the healthy kind of black either. I don’t know what shade it naturally was but it always looked unhealthy with no luster, and appeared lighter towards the ends because of split ends. I dyed my hair black a lot of times during high school to mask this color with a 20-peso henna powder. Haha!
It has been a monthly habit for me to grab the latest YUMMY magazine from the rack every grocery trip. I always have my grandma in mind coz she loves copying recipes from the magazine. After she reads the whole mag, best believe she’d hit the market and do her kitchen experiments.
And lately, she tried making gising-gising version 3.0. LOL! With more ground pork, coconut milk, baguio beans, and pineapple chunks. And of course, a gising-gising is not gising-gising without the chili overdrive. It was pretty good. Not for the kids and the wusses but of course, spicy and creamy were my kind of combo so I was, without a doubt, an instant fan. It deserved a picture so naturalmente, picture picture ang GRAND DAWTER. Siyempre bet na bet ng lola yan!
What food would I request if I were sentenced to death?
Doc Robbie’s Cheese Cupcakes
One word: deadly.
I cannot believe that these home-baked goodies aren’t mass-produced yet! But then again, good things such as an uber delectable cheese cupcake along with a Louis Vuitton chrysanthemum tea are meant to be enjoyed in privy with the The Secret Supper Society (I’d like to call ourselves)!
Thank you Dr. Robbie and Dr. Grace for the cupcakes today! You have made my cheese cupcake dreams come true. If cheese cupcake-munching was an addiction, you guys are the enablers to my doom.
Last night I had another episode of mental breakdown. I felt like one string away from falling apart. It’s again caused by one of those adult problems that I still cannot fathom myself solving as I am confused whether I am equipped to handle the pressures of adult life or I am still a yuppie and fucking things up is completely forgivable. Paying bills, taking care of everyone, making sure that everyone is fine, and needs are provided for in the household— these are some of the things that overwhelm me sometimes. Not that I am the bread winner, but being the second adult next to my grandma automatically puts me in a position where I have to at least have the initiative to look after everyone when she couldn’t. Trying to open up a conversation with my hormonally-enraged sister about discipline and thrifting wasn’t exactly a good idea either when she shut me out and basically said SHE HAD NO TIME for that shiz and turned the other cheek. I had enough and just bursted into tears, of course, in secret.
I cried like an idiot in my room and instinctively dialed my best friend’s number as I know she would answer even in the middle of her fecal activity or what not. Basically, she told me to breathe. And as I was told to do, I went out for air. I washed my hair, and half squeezed the water with a towel. I didn’t bother drying it well since I’m still gonna be drippy under the rain anyways. I grabbed my hoodie and squeezed myself into it. It has gotten a little tighter since the last time I used it. I decided not to change my shorty shorts, even if my buttcheeks were peeking out, I didn’t fucking care anymore. Popped my earphones in and played Paramore then headed out.
I didn’t know my boyfriend was sitting outside our main door, sitting under the shadows, lurking like a predator. Here’s the thing about him. Not only is he mysterious, but he likes to Ninja his ways into places. He usually sits in the weirdest corners of the house. I only realized he was there when his cellphone lit up and he made scratching sounds on the floor as he stood up. He asked me where I was going. I snarled and said “NOWHERE”. I hastened my foot steps because I do not want him to follow because wanted to be alone yet… weirdly, I also wanted him to chase me. He got the message and halted in mid-walk. I have already walked six meters away from my house when he probably couldn’t take it because I heard the metallic clanking of our gate as he closed it behind him and briskly walked after me.
I felt him grabbed my hand, his slender muscular fingers slithered their way into mines— a shorter and paler version of his. I have always wondered why our hands freakishly look similar. Like he is the male version of my hands, only veiny-er and larger. His hands are handsome, and mines are beautiful, I’d like to think conceitedly.
He slowed down and began to walk in rhythm with mine. He squeezed my hand as if he was trying to tell me to slow down and maybe start telling him what was wrong. But of course I didn’t budge. I kept walking and walking not even looking up. I know in the corner of my eyes he was trying to catch a glimpse of my face, but I hid it under the curtains of my hair though I unabashedly bawled as we walk, wiping my fat tears with the sleeves of my sweater. I knew he was looking at me, but he respects silence, therefore he didn’t speak and just continued walking with me aimlessly.
He finally asked, “Where are we going?” I did not know where either. So we continued walking down the wet streets, while the drizzling continues. And then out of nowhere I began taking it out on him. I nagged and told him I felt alone back home, that he wasn’t there to hold me together when I was falling apart, and blah blah blah. All my feelings just went out of the window, and shot up in the air like shards. I knew I hurt him very bad. But he didn’t talk back, he just didn’t speak. His silence left me embarrassed with my own thoughts and my own little speech. Instead, he squeezed me tighter. In one shining moment, I felt clarity. My own voice reverberated in my own head and had short moment of reflection. He has always been there for me. And in that very moment, he was with me. Turned out, he was gonna let me WALK ALONE but my protection was far more important to him. He wanted to be there for me. In my mind, I was saying… “This guy is the best guy I have ever met.”
I began to worry that he is gonna catch cold. He wasn’t as warmed as I was with my hoodie so I made a quick turn to McDonald’s. Still clasping hands, I pulled him towards the counter and ordered two brewed coffee. He snickered, probably thinking it was funny how dramatic I was when all I wanted was a cup of coffee. I snickered as well coz the long emotional walk was pretty unnecessary. His smile warmed every inch of my body and I felt sane again.
Finally we both knew where to go. We held each other and walked pass McDonald’s towards the inviting reflection of the bridge’s tungsten lamp posts on the pitch black river. The reflections danced and flickered like cello strings. There wasn’t any better view than this. It felt like it was catered just for the two of us. The headlights that passed by over the glassy river were rather pretty so we sat there on the wet ground with our coffees. Then I started opening up. Relief was all over his face, because finally, I opened my mouth. It goes to show that the man next to me is the kind who is sensitive and selfless. My feelings mattered to him. I knew from his responses that he understood me in a manner that only I could understand me. It’s as if we think alike. His feminine side makes him more masculine than any other tank-bodied steroid-fueled machos out there.
I couldn’t think of any other perfect night than that night to confirm how much I feel for him and how much he feels for me.
We capped off the night listening to Paramore as we walked home. He looked at me lovingly with his beautiful smile. He makes me feel beautiful and special. In that moment, I prayed to God that we will last forever.
In case y’all were wondering what’s up with the gauze on my right eye: I am currently recovering from an infection called folliculitis. It’s when normal flora migrate into a break in the skin, especially through hair follicles. A normally functioning body should be able to fight off the entry of normal bacteria, but a body with a depressed immune system is basically defenseless.
It started as a dust allergy. Me and my boyfriend were rummaging through their storage. I frantically scratched my eye as soon as the allergy kicked in. I was sneezing and my eyes were itching like hell. I probably accidentally plucked an eyelash.
A few days later, the inner corner of my right eye started aching.
And then one day I wore contact lenses and went home to my grandparent’s house and stayed there for 3 days. I forgot my lenses’ container and solution. So for 3 days I basically wasn’t able to disinfect my contact lenses. I soaked it in distilled water, in a small basin that I wasn’t sure was clean. I still wore my contact lenses on my way home even if I knew that it probably harbored thousands of bacteria.
My whole eyelid started swelling. Next thing I know, it was filled with pus. Broad spectrum antibiotics didn’t do the trick. I had to be prescribed with 3 grams of co-amoxiclav in 3 doses for 7 days, and tobradex for topical application. My sweat and pee started smelling like damn antibiotics.
The worst part is that, I looked really horrible. I had an eyelid filled with pus that just got worse as it healed, coz pus started dripping like tears when it finally ruptured.
I had to wear sunglasses everywhere I went.
WORST weeks of my year! For real.
I am just glad my boyfriend always reminded me that I was beautiful even if I looked like Quasimodo. The visits and foot massages were deeply appreciated. :)
But today I feel a lot better and I can actually open my eyes wider than a few days back. I have my second doctor to thank, the deadly antibiotics, and the sea salt in the air from today’s photo shoot.
I have divulged my life too many times to people who I deem worthy of my tragic piece of existence on this planet.
And as I make a mental list of the people I have chosen to see through my transparency (from the ones who acted a stellar role in my life to the briefest cameo played by a disheveled stranger on a bus), I had a sudden flashback of myself. I saw the different stages of my evolution as a lonely person through the people I divulge to.
First stage: Stillness
Loneliness was an implosion contained within my ribs, within my chest, corroding me from within. It was catastrophic yet something that I intend not to notify the world about. If I chose to open my loneliness, people would have looked at me like an explosive. I do not want to be looked at as a ticking bomb of shards and shit of course. I long for sympathy, but I do not long for sympathy. Nothing made sense, really. I was the only savior to myself, and to contain loneliness within the bounds of my own cavity would make the world a tolerable place. I cared that much about the world. I did. Did I? Lies. Truthfully, I thought of the world as something I wasn’t part of, “the world that betrayed me”. The world categorized into those who “persecute”, and the world of those who seem to know nothing about the word. And I was none of those categories. I was convinced that irreparable was my predetermined fate and the more I accepted this, it became more of a self-fulfilling prophecy. This fate is inherent the day I was born, to live lonely with crappy coping methods. It was defeatism but the kind with dogged determination to deprive the world of the slightest entertainment with this freak show. Shedding a tear horrified me… it repulsed me. If strong meant having to live with a thousand concealing layers, fine. I was all smiles. I was happy in the eyes of those who had eyes on me. To the point it was overdone. Because you are required to fool yourself if you want to live with decency. Stillness and secrecy— I was immersed in my own soliloquy.
I hope my wiser future version told me that I was a canister of antimatter, just one push away from disaster.
Second stage: Tidal Waves
Because I was a solid piece of crappy art, much like a stonehenge, I wasn’t gonna falter with just one push. Why of course! I sustained strength and fooled this oblivious world for an incredible amount of time until it was the kind of stillness that has become my nature.
But alas, this world doesn’t, and will never cater to me. Why am I not surprised? It hated me for some wicked reason. This world or maybe the universe wasn’t contented. At this point I started to think it’s a large scale conspiracy not only contained on earth. It was cunningly adjusting the difficulty level in unnoticeable increments. And like, out of annoyance because I wasn’t being attentive, it gave me torrents of blows.
From solidity, I embraced that I was a defeatist in all its essence. Withering, my layers thinned out. I finally became visible to those who were invisible. I found random souls who sympathized because they believed we shared the same cracks and crevices. I think they are appropriately called friends? Birds with the same feather, ladida…
But they can only do so much for a lonely person like me. Mines was atypical. And they turned out to be a point of comparison instead that ultimately made me bore a larger pit in my cavity. They moved on, and cope. I should have known better not to indulge in divulgence. I shuddered at the realization that the reason of my loneliness was vast, and beyond comprehension and could possibly be not a separate matter parasitizing my existence, but loneliness unfortunately could actually be my identity. I embraced it. Loneliness was me.
Third Stage: Leak and Plug
I wore my loneliness like a favorite t-shirt. I excessively wore it, because it was my ace. The XY’s seem to find something exceptional about a young girl who has tragedy, who is lonely. They find every reason to be the sole source of happiness, for the lonely girl. It is a plug that fails when pressure builds up.
It was a mission to find an opposition of loneliness in the presence of the willing to oppose. But it was the wrongest of all wrongs. I had a pitiful understanding of human love.
Loneliness catches up with me. What’s worst is that, I realized all of us have implosive devices within our cavities. The world has been suddenly categorized into three: the people who persecute, the people who doesn’t have any idea of the word, and the persecuted.
I was imbecile to have faith that one person could be my personal Jesus. Nobody is persecution-proof. And it came to a climax where I asked myself, am I the one being saved, or I am the one doing the saving?
None of my XY relationships ever succeeded in the past. They were all destined to end, all because they began for all the wrong reasons. People needing people to plug the holes—it’s a dangerous business.
I found myself inconceivably voided of strength. I have lost every bit of hope that I once held onto; that hope and belief that happiness is a dose of medicine and every man I ever loved were vials of this drug. In the end I realized that I have been as well a vial to all these men I ever loved. We are all troubled people seeking rehabilitation from each other.
And in this part of my writing… I cannot even continue.
Loneliness creeps into my mind, and even lowers my intelligence to centralize my thoughts and speak in behalf of myself.
I can’t describe in words.
I felt used.
I felt like I did more saving than anyone was supposed to do for me.
I had to run as fast as I could, run away until I find refuge. If there was such thing.
Fourth Stage: In need of plumbing
And then categories narrowed down to: the persecuted.
We are all persecuted. And who persecutes us? We persecute ourselves. There’s no such thing as the world or universe conspiring against us. We are held accountable for all the things we welcome. And if we welcome loneliness, it will come unabashedly through our front door because we permit its presence in the corners of our house. We are alone in this world. Nobody is destined to save us.
We don’t belong to anybody, and nobody belongs to us.
"Little girl, stop waiting for someone to come and rescue you.
You’re on you own.”
Waking up to this reality didn’t make me strong. I stopped looking for remedies and solutions. I accepted that loneliness and suffering as a universal fate. Letting it leak led to drought. I had nothing left to lose.
Fifth Stage: Plateau
I watched the world go by through my blind eyes. I am no longer seeking for what I cannot seek. I have chosen not to blame others for my persecution (or the universe), I have chosen not to dwell on this universal fate, I have chosen not to feel altogether.
If there is serenity in apathy, so be it.
Sixth Stage: Satellite
It’s been months since I started writing this. And by now, I am a satellite hovering over myself. Loneliness has become a distant feeling, and this exponential changes happened when I evolved into something.
I learned to love myself and that ME, above all, should be the endpoint of my search for the cure to loneliness. I am my problem, but also my solution.
And in the process of discovery and recovery, I have learned to love someone unconditionally without the concept of using and being used. I learned that to love doesn’t mean to belong to someone, or have someone belong to me. He embodied so much of the spirit that I have collected piece by piece into completion. He stood in front of me like a mirror, reflecting my own cracks and crevices in an achingly beautiful way. He showed me that no amount of persecution should ever be a bitter reason not to love, without probably intending such godly influence. Sadly, I let this love go. He deserves to fly and aviate into endless bliss among the clouds.
"I deserve a gold star for this", I told the supreme Man.
In the dark can we only see the astonishing glow of a light.
And as I hop and sing along to this jolly damn song in my head, I feel better and feel more prepared to love.