million dollar smile

i have heard a lot of stories about family struggles...i guess we've been through it all.

our standard of living has never really reached the point of outlandishness. growing up, i never had the chance to own a bag worth more than a pair of greg shoes. some would say expenses for basic necessities have weighed them down, but their luxury cars gave them away. some even parade in signature clothes and designer bags on their "tired" shoulders, complaining about how cruel life is...the "poor little rich girl" stories are indeed entertaining.


the true test of poverty does not have standards. to my mind, being poor is never relative. after going through very difficult times, i can safely say that of all the things we lacked, expensive watches, jewelry and signature clothes were never part of our common discontent. whereas, food on the table, soap and shampoo diluted our everyday hopeful disposition and emptied our shallow pockets. we didn't have enough resources to venture into profitable businesses. for us, it was indeed the height of ingenuousness.


it was only during law school when i learned how to really count my blessings. i fought with my heart a dozen times. i willed myself to want only the things we can afford...until the day came when buying leather bags and loafers was finally feasible. although i have whined about not having this and that, i was young then, and it was my lone excuse because my mom only had tenderness for me. she never said "no"...only "next time na lang, anak..."


soon after owning things we thought impossible, at last, my family decided to build a new home.


ain't life grand? come to think of it, i never did classify our family as "poor", although there was a time when i'd brave taking the quickest shower because there was not enough soap to last an hour's bath. there was no time to fret and grieve about not having the best things in life (the best "material" things, that is).


all that mattered to me was seeing my mom at the end of the day, having her usual glass of coke...looking radiant and beautiful as ever.


if i were to put a price tag on her smile, i'd even say we're filthy rich.

kitchen confidential

i spent one whole day with marge and her mom...

we had dinner at 6pm, and it was the best meal i've ever had for years! tita prepared chicken teriyaki and sauteed vegetables for 5 people. i tried my darnedest not to eat more than a cup of rice, but i failed!

i got so used to my dad's cooking--the usual crispy vegetables, inihaw and fried tilapia--i forgot how other people's take on the simplest chicken dish can manage to amaze my taste buds and create an impact on my appetite.

i asked marge how she manages to maintain her figure despite tita's flair for cooking...she then raved about eating anything she wants--anything her mom puts on the lazy susan--in small portions. now, why didn't i think of that? (note the sarcasm)

how can i possibly resist eating the evenly sliced white chicken meat marinated in teriyaki sauce and glazed with sesame seeds?

i guess one more cup of rice won't hurt...all for the love of tita's chicken teriyaki =)

at last...a truce!!!

a product of long arguments and compromises :)

the house that the foreman built

we have just finished arguing about the railings of the staircase...

my mom has the charm of a lioness. she's the queen of the jungle. her paws lovingly rest on anything made of mahogany. her mighty roar is a sign of disapproval...one that keeps the carpenters on their toes even on sundays (their designated day-off).

the country-style house is my mom's legacy. every bit of sand equals a pint of her sweat and tears. this "mixture" has been her trademark and salutation since time immemorial. i, for one, recognize the fact that i woudn't be typing these blog entries with much zing were it not for the sacrifices she went through only to give me and my siblings the best education possible.

but that didn't stop me from 'meddling' every now and then, especially when it involves interior (and exterior) design. i had to convince her (and sometimes, even beg her) to consider my taste if only to augment the savings.

we have been to citihardware more than 5 times already, and that's only within a month's time! i felt the need to accompany my mom because she doesn't have the patience nor any hint of practicality when it comes to being on the lookout for reasonably-priced, but elegant pieces. most of the time, though, we'd end up buying the things she wants not for expediency, but just for the love of getting what she ached to own for the longest time, but couldn't quite acquire due to lack of resources.

i have to hand it to her. she gets away with buying all the trinkets she wants without attracting too much objection from us. we merely concede. after all, he who has the power of the purse enjoys infallibility.

whenever my mom needs suggestions, she turns to kuya rodney, her ever dependable foreman, for advice. i swear i feel there's some sort of 'connivance' going on among the 3 of them (my mom, my dad, and the foreman).

so the stair railings would have to do... even though part of me wants to drive a bulldozer over it just to stress my point, hehe...

just kidding :)

just this one time

here's another song i wrote...
-------------------------------------------

If I reason with my heart
I know I’ll lose
it’s not everyday you get to choose
The one person to love

If I take that chance with you
I know you’ll say
It’s never safe to stay
In love with someone like you

But I reasoned with my heart and I reasoned
Hard enough
I’m not as buff
As Hercules
But if you would please
Listen…
To my dream love affair…
Deepen your stare and love me--
Just this one time.

If I find you a safe place
I know I’ll get lost
The journey back can cost
My entire lifetime and more

But I found you a home and I found
The best location
That on any occasion
The sun sets in your eyes
I don’t need to disguise
Behind courage and might—
You are my weakness.

I’ll take that chance
And make no demands
Except love me—
Just this one time.

my best beauty bets

must-try :)

crazy little thing

one of my flawless friends got hitched last sunday. the groom and cris belong to the same fraternity. it was a beautiful and solemn garden wedding that tweaked my take on lavish ceremonies gradually to become a full blown but coy conversion. the most romantic part of their love story is that they've been together for 6 years already...

long engagements usually call to motion red tongues of telling break-ups and reconciliations. it's either the guy doesn't love the girl too much to make him pop that question earlier than expected (2 years in the relationship?) or there's just not enough oil to get the engine running. it's a toss up between love and budget. the love is almost always there.

i can imagine saving up for something as lucrative as photography or scuba diving, but not for 500 eating guests in formal wear. i always thought the groom decides on the entire reception package and the bride takes care of the head count (haha!)...this much abused "set-up" tilts the scale of the supposed symmetry of love and finances in favor of the girl under the peevish veil. it's her wedding and she'll cry if she wants to :)

the songs played were heart-tuggers indeed. the bride walked down the aisle with unreserved grace, and slowly marched to match her steps with the notes of "through the years". their first dance as husband and wife was the exact stupefying opposite of their mellow entrance. "low, low, low, low...." defeated michael buble's wedding album.

the pastor tried hard to inject humor in his sermon, but the lovebirds croaked in tears in between bible verses. when they exchanged vows, their voices moved me. to think that i've seen this type of wedding scene more than 50 times on tv!

i wasn't prepared for the sudden avalanche of emotions...

i guess i'll never be.

the emancipation of gypsy

the civil code used to have provisions on emancipation. but these codal articles did not go beyond specifying the age and circumstances of emancipation. it confined the life of a minor to Mister Magorium's Wonder Emporium (Neverland's counterpart on earth), rather deceptively. The family code did nothing more than underline my contention.

I would like to think that i have gone far and beyond minority in terms of discernment, outlook and judgment. but persistent "strings" keep pulling my age back to a confusing impasse that can sometimes be frustrating. i needed some soul-searching...and where else can a 31-year-old lass like me find the safest place in the universe? nowhere but home (note the sarcasm in my tone).

i have been to very few parties throughout my career as a wandering "philanthropist". i used to love being around people. the idea of organizing a small group of sophisticated women used to excite me. back then, everyone seemed available especially during weekends. i would round them up through a single text message (using the 'send to many' cellphone feature) and get 100% response after only a few minutes. it was one easy job i never begged off from doing.

times have indeed changed. my girlfriends can no longer find time for spontaneous get-togethers. they would have to squeeze in a couple of hours just to talk on the phone and catch up on the latest. my (irksome) predicament pales in comparison to their very busy schedules. i have more than enough time for social events, but my parents won't let me go out even for coffee! i'm doomed to wallow in boredom and desolation.

as i type this entry, i stagger through webs and tangles of letters that i wish would come to life so i could have someone to laugh and converse with. my monitor is a reflection of an ageing spinster (knock on wood) locked up inside a magical "fortress" (where i can eat and sleep whenever i want, but without freedom of locomotion).

i'm looking for the kindest soul who has the guts to file a habeas corpus petition so i can stop sending "i miss you" messages to cris and to my friends.

but with my parents as jurors, it would really take a courageous bear before i can even bring myself to hear the gavel bang in my favor.

i'm just kidding, but you can always take me seriously :)

for mr. poon

I got busted

I got busted
Staring at you by the parking lot
The one reserved slot
From the grocery lane
I was taking my time
Pushing my cart further to isle 39

What a grand embarrassment!
I denied you were ever in my heart’s compartment
The only department
Where you belong…
with this love song


I was in harm’s way that time and you saved me.
How can I not feel a thing for my savior?
My one endeavor
is to endear you
To me…


***Hiding it has been a royal pain
But I can’t complain
When thoughts of you help me get through the day…
I got busted
And guilty? I am.

Am I a secretive fool for lying? For not telling
How you send Christmas bells to my ears each time
I get a ticket for speeding your highway
I got busted
And foolish? I am.

I can honestly say
half of the way is one hell of a climb
But with you at the top
all i could think of

are water and hay

keep on fanning the flames of
this hostile fire
my heart would expire

if you walk away...

please look my way

from then and today

i would gladly say...

I got busted
What a relief
I got busted
No more mischief
I got busted

And guilty? I am…

the beekeepers

the idea of talking about others behind their backs no longer thrills me. at the outset, girlfriends have more fun during spur-of-the-moment reunions when they binge on salad and gossip. but the typical chitchat transforms into bitternes, and becomes too heavy to even listen to. before you know it, you've lost and destroyed every bit of compassion and strong character you used to rave about having.

it's not easy to wriggle out of a chance to scoff at your enemies. when others share a different kind of hatred towards the people you so despise, you tend to embrace the moment and without much reluctance, join the group of backstabbers. later on, you'd schedule another get-together only to talk about the same people again, but with more pizzazz.

that's why it's sometimes hard to fit in. i've realized, some would only seek the opportunity to get to know the obscure part of your personality only to use the info against you and spoil all your chances to redeem yourself by telling all your friends (and those inside your prospective circle) about your past fits of imprudence. nothing but your own dose of bad medicine.

if you don't want others to get the better of you, you have to become conscious about their feelings too. always mind the gap that separates your private life from them. you'd be keeping more friendships this way.

i should know. i've been through the same a lot of times...and i'm never joining the bandwagon again. if you really feel strongly about rearranging your friends' cosmos, take off that silly mask.

the diary of a madman

need i say more?

cold summer nights

for months now, we've been experiencing unusual cold days and nights. unusual because this is the first time the chilly breeze decided to linger long after christmas. it's mid-january and it's still freezing! brrr...

this is the perfect time for reading novels and watching old movies. i have extracted careless thumbprints on maya angelou's collection of beautiful poems (my own), and reading it for the nth time gave justice to the cold weather that embraced my feet and wanton hands. typing this entry has never been more challenging. the nippy wind keeps blowing towards my entire left profile. our windows cannot be shut without employing a tremendous amount of force, and the only personality (with strong hands) who can do the job is my dad. he's upstairs, reading dan brown.

i have yet to think of something warmer to wear to last me for the entire night. my toes are turning purple :) but surprisingly, i found myself enjoying the intermittent puffs of cold air, hitting my face to the rhythm of linda ronstadt's blue bayou. even the stray cats outside our house looked restless. i have not heard any banging sound on the roof for weeks now. and i thought cat fur was enough to temper the arctic shift on this year's climate.

my mom wears a blue shawl to cover her neck and arms. she clings on them tightly while watching the bitter news on tv. somewhere in manila, a group of prosecutors are experiencing a different kind of winter in their own homes thanks to the makeshift snow machines donated by johnny midnight. further in alabang, a group of boys are taking much pleasure in the cold baths especially prepared for them by the warden.

aaaah...the chilly breeze of swift justice! :) i hope it's here to stay.

the "busy" bee

funny how a fat "income" can turn your life around--literally. it's one word that can make me turn cartwheels in high heels. no matter how plainly defined the word income is --flow of wealth-- no adage can make man's love for money disappear (money can't buy me love; the root of all evil...).

i have spent 3 whole days job hunting with friends. it was so tiring! the part where i had to find the right pair of platforms to complete my corporate look made it more arduous. of course, you have to make a good impression. in this department, i know i have matured. i keep a decent collection of pencil-cut and A-line skirts (below the knee). solid-colored shirts are a hit. whites and navy blues are indispensable to achieving a classic look.

spontaneity is the key to impressing the HR assistant who would most likely spend the whole 15 minutes sizing up your wardrobe, and the next few hours waiting for you to mispronounce a word or mix-up your grammar. if you're into memorizing, make sure you don't force the lines into your sentence unless they're really relevant. otherwise, you'd end up sounding like a parrot mimicking a talking glossy magazine (cosmopolitan, metro and...uhm good housekeeping perhaps?).

it's like explaining yourself to a shrink whose license has just expired. personality tests are usually given by top corporations with money to spend on risograph machines. why do they even bother? we all know how inaccurate the results can get considering the allowance for "honesty" and the freedom given to an applicant (precisely to manipulate his scores and yield a psychological readiness to perform the job). where else can you get a rating of 10 for accountability and punctuality? oops, i'm way too cynical for this type of blog entry :) so i'll just end this paragraph by confining the downside of psychological evaluations to factual errors.

marvin (muyot), the willing victim who drove us to ayala's very busy streets, was too excited to notice the speck of ketchup slime on his collar and hear the pitch of his own trembling voice when he got up to follow the voice that came from the empty hall that led to the spooky interview booth. it was like a silent battle...really! the villain lurks behind the transient office walls and slumps on the black leather chair once you reach the threshold to his own office space--the space that says "i hold the key to your future". but in reality, he is the same small guy who got a beating from the campus bully in 3rd grade.

our only reward after 3 grueling hours of waiting for our turn to be interviewed was the much awaited FT (food trip). the idea of spending way too much on milkshakes and dinner--without actually feeling guilty--can calm an anxious interviewee's nerves like no other. but nothing beats dad's tinola...more than the soothing prickle it sends to my nerves, the fact that it's free does wonders to my grief-stricken career as a happy job hunter with a big appetite.

i'm so glad to be home! :)

the humble bee

i am a fairly odd godparent to chino, cris' nephew, Cj, ibeth's panganay and joaquin, jonas' only son.

i know my responsibility goes way beyond giving pakimkim and gift-wrapped toys, though these are usually the things that they expect from their godparents. it's something i wish filipino culture would go easy on. wisdom should replace battery-operated cars and machine guns.

...and so the saga begins...

if i were to leave something behind for my inaanaks, i would filter my best bottle of sand granules and trap only the hardest earned lessons in my hand before everything trickles to the ground, neglected.

i'd tell them about h-u-m-i-l-i-t-y.

the greatest lessons in life are those that are learned the hard way. although our parents give us the best pieces of advice, we remain accountable for our own actions, especially when we get past the age of 9--the age of discernment.

i got my humility lessons that "fateful day"... i was 29 and clueless.

my mom said, a simple show of arrogance will bring your reputation to eternal damnation. people will brand you as "the arrogant neighbor" 'til your last breath, and you wouldn't know of it until you realize, the same group of people, belonging to the noveau riche circle, graces your lavish parties and raids your cocktails, while the people you truly care about are out attending your family reunion.

life is unfair. it can turn bad luck into good fortune and good fortunte into misery. it's not coincidence, it's fate. once you generate a considerable amount of knowledge, or anything tangible that is worth getting envious for, people will start scrutinizing your new lifestyle. one wrong move would earn either an approval or a stamp on the forehead that says "snob" in green ink.

so how do you go about living a blessed life without losing your patrons? by being humble and discreet. what with the number of awards your son or daughter has won in oratorical and essay writing contests, he/she would have enough legacy to rub onto his/her own children--your grandchildren--but not enough audience to make any sincere remark about how great your kids really are, and how much they're looking forward to seeing them succeed in life.

there would always be room for bitterness...and this is startlingly exasperating.

people are just so hard to please! but pleasing others should be at the bottom of your list. you should know that people would only positively and genuinely react if they've seen you at your worst. but it's good to have self-assessment as part of your quarterly (if not daily) routine. in this type of evaluation, nothing's more worse than realizing that indeed, you are the arrogant, egotistical, rich and famous man they despise.

so next christmas, i'd tell my godsons about humility, and hope that they would not look beyond my wisdom and frisk me for hidden goodies after the sermon :)

keep the faith

here is a beautiful prayer sent to me via email by my aunt, sr. tita pamplona...

"Lord, this is the last day of an old year. I stand before you like a piling under a wharf that has gathered unsightly barnacles and debris. Lord, today, clean out my life and make me fit to walk into a new year, clean and unencumbered. Scrape from my heart the burdensome barnacles of all my botches and bungling. Strip from my life all the unbecoming garments of pride, arrogance and ego. As a gardener, O Lord, pull from my life today all that is unbecoming; all the weeks and months of worry; the roots of resistance; the burgeoning briers of bullheadedness and the vines of vexation.

Before the New Year arrives, disinfect the dirtiness of my deeds, destroy the detestable, destructive debris of my life, clear from my agenda all that is mundane, mediocre and moldy. Peel from my spirit, O Lord, all the layers of lewdness, lusting and lying. Scrub away, O God, all that is sullied, stained, septic and soiled.

Repaint today, O Lord, my faded walls; restore just now my voice; unstop my tongue to speak your praise; wash away the haze that I may see you lifted up. Remove from my life this day, Lord all that is small, rebellious, obstinate and unsurrendered to you.

Sweep out of my life all that is unimportant, unnecessary, unnatural and all that is ugly. Clear my mind of all thinking that is negative and unproductive. Breathe into me the fresh breath of your Spirit and rib me with the steel of your courage to face the New Year with a dogged determination to stand at the center of your will all the way through. Give me eyes to see beyond the physical, ears to hear beyond the audible, hands to touch hurting people, feet to speed to those in need, eyes to see those opportunities Lord that you see. Lord, I pull the shade on an old year and raise the shade to a new one. Grant me wisdom to walk with you and NOT LOOK BACK EVER.

Amen."

the (wo)man who saved the world

i can't recall the number of times i feigned sickness just so i won't be dragged out of bed by my sister, who was always so eager to ride the 8am bus to batangas. i have spent half of my life in manila. my "independence" was not forced. it was a necessity back then when my mom made it clear (15 years ago) she'd do anything to give us the kind of quality education only the schools in manila can offer (a lot of people still think that manila is the best place to earn yourself a decent degree).

law school came and it gave me another veritable excuse not to go home. i don't know why, but the idea of going back to the place i grew up in irked the hell out of me. i was evading my dad's wake up calls and mom's doting presence. the only thing i looked forward to was dad's cooking. so i'd agree to come home only to indulge in 2 of life's guilty pleasures: inihaw na liempo and bulanglang.

then the time came when i had to come home and leave manila--for good.

i have been here (in batangas) for almost 4 months now, but 1 whole, solid day with my parents was all it took to stir my senses and tame the gravity that has kept my faculties up and away from the idea of sleeping in my distressed yellow room--to actually stay and to experience more than just a fleeting moment of nostalgia with the help of my old books and photos.

i was so ashamed of myself for coercing my sister to hold the cudgels for me while i bathed in manila air the whole time. i may have spent my years wisely on education, but i never thought i'd be just as naive and self-centered as a day old baby! (nag-aral pa ako sa lagay na yan ha).

each day with my parents is bliss; each day, a blessing. i realized, each day that i was away from them was a struggle. my stay here has allowed me to discover the things that i took for granted before. the mother-daughter bonding, cooking lessons with dad, and the familiar bashings i get from both of them for waking up late. even my dad's daily dose of hurtful words and scoldings are now music to my ears!

during one of our late night chikahans, my mom shared one heart-breaking routine of hers: she'd wait outside of our house (and stay there for hours--until she sees an aircon bus infront of our gate) the minute she gets off the phone with ate len telling her "ma, we're on our way home."

this goes out to all of you who think independence means forgetting the "better (if not the best) part" of oneself and leaving it all behind to seek for greener pasture--the very part of you that has turned your parents into insomniacs overnight.

it's time to collect your thoughts and pin them onto corkboards so you won't forget that when you left for school, you left behind two persons who'd put their lives on the line for you just so you can find your self-worth in a place that can make or break you...and that two people were willing enough to sacrifice spending the days with you just so you won't catch them in the act of rummaging through the crevices of their wallets just to give you your week's allowance.

i have only ate len to thank for rousing me out of deep slumber and for teaching me that each day spent away from my mom and dad may mean sorrow, but one that we no longer have to endure from now on.

shrink to fit

i have watched a lot of movies. but so far, none has actually left that big mark on my skin. to date, only 2 films were successful enough to have left a microscopic mark on my thinking head that has already healed over time with the help of a balm.

then "the women" came.

my ate mashie uploaded it to my ipod 2 nights ago, and i just wiped the last tear away an hour after watching it. yes, it was that good and heart wrenching. it wasn't a sob movie at all. it was more like de javu popping like seeds in the microwave. i highy recommend it to my readers (i'm assuming i have more than 1 blog follower).

i'd be telling a little about the movie, so in case you haven't seen it, sorry to spoil your evening meteor shower :)

when a guy cheats on you, you'd either swear not to have anything to do with him again OR (this one's usually the case) you'd give him another chance and forgive him. until he does it again, and again and again (and again).

when does the hurting truly stop? most women would rethink their lives and change the way they dress, the way they treat their men, and the way they talk even! it's like men's evil design to conquer women's world in one freaking cheating minute, so they'd end up getting a shortlived slap on the wrist and yes, go home smiling. believe me, this ain't the worst yet.

it keeps on coming like a train en route far far away land. if you give him another chance, he'd think you a saint and pray he'd never make the same mistake again. but he does, and he does it over like you're a loaf on a shelf that needs heating before it can be served.

until you realize, you're not the same woman he met years ago. you've changed into something more monstrous than the girl he spent 5 minutes with over the extra mobile phone he kept under his sleeve just to say "wait up for me, i'm gonna call you as soon as i get out of here."

once in your life, a man comes. in style, he'd sweep you off your feet and in timid words, he'd cut your love story short by asking you how you feel about him. of course you'd say you love him back. and that's how bitter endings begin.

love is something you can't prepare yourself enough for. love is wanting the things your girfriends want for you: a happy life, a loyal atmosphere that may sometimes be filled with weariness, but then that's where he makes a great effort to replace apathy with rejoices and white roses. that's not enough, though. it is never enough.

i have been thought of as insane one december when cris lost it and made a big mistake, and i "forgave" him. i transformed into this haughty creature, even my niece didn't recognize me at first glance. but i changed back. i missed my old self. that's when cris fell in love with me all over again (not that i believed him that time when he said this). something's got to give.

i "missed" my old self. m-i-s-s-e-d meaning, not only that lingering feeling long after your bf's gone after spending hours at the mall strolling hand in hand--both of you flat broke. m-i-s-s-e-d meaning, using that "good" part of your time for self-love and self-improvement. i used mine a few minutes late, but the old saying (better late than never) doesn't work well with the way i chose to live my life. my stubborn nature allows me to procrastinate even when it comes to my love life.

cris may have been unfair to me at one point, but who hasn't? you'd be surprised at how forgiving a heart can get--it's mind-blowing. the one thing you actually have control over--one where you can decisively put heavy reigns on, is being fair to yourself. if "being fair to oneself 101" didn't appeal to many, why would garfield even bother to get a copy? but he did.

but don't go patronizing yourself for giving up who you used to be (before your guy cheated on you). instead, do a once-over and put your old shirts back on. then move forward and tell your man "i'm happy the way i am, so if you want another chance, don't make me crop the crown off on top of my head to fit the borders of your screen or make me take my shirt off and leave it in the dryer to shrink to your taste."

:)

are you happy just conforming?

wouldn't it be swell knowing that you have lived your life the way you're not supposed to?

i don't mean infusing the bad stuff like drugs and alcohol into your system. God knows my undergraduate heart churns at the slightest glimpse of dried leaves, yearning to be covered, with unconventional ease, by silver foil and brown paper...it's more like cheating on destiny or deliberately hiding from the truth that people around you had set out for you to just take in and digest.

perhaps, you were born to be a drummer, but went on and lived a quiet life in the woods or in a seminary in some far off province even forrest gump dared not to set foot on to rediscover his accidental heroism. or maybe you were born into a charming family of farmers, but pursued a career in hockey or bowling, without a trace of regret for having left a vast tract of idle land in your own backyard. ho-hum.

i bet you were at your happiest while fulfilling dreams that are not yours to begin with.

there's nothing wrong with doing things that are expected of you. most of the time, you end up being just like your father (or mother)--a surgeon or a lawyer--maybe. exploring the life you have so gotten used to--the kind of life you were exposed to not out of choice, but out of nature. it's true, what they say...the leaf does not fall far from the tree.

but in the process, you may lose your identity, and if you're lucky, you might inherit your father's debts too. it's like enduring a power outage with a half-frozen, half-kilo beef inside your freezer--you're not sure if it's going to last the long night without smelling odd and in time for spaghetti-bonding the next day with your mom and your siblings, but you're sure that if you don't have that special "bonding" day, you'd feel restless and barren. which brings me to my next few questions: does living the life you are destined to live get to a point where you self-expire? does it have a shelf life?

until when is conforming conformable? until you realize you're just another walking cliche?

well, you wouldn't know if you don't try it, right? :)

alas, we'd all end up conforming, and behind every fufilled dream, there would always be this one tugging question stuck in your throat you might want to expel...before you actually throw up without meaning to.