When it rains on this side of town, it touches everything.

I wish I didn't have to, but I wasn't given a choice.

---

Churros are delicious. I'd have preferred it if they had been freshly made, but I'm not complaining. They definitely satisfy my sweet tooth in a way ice cream never will.



Now that I've moved back into my room (which, by the way, is still disorderly but getting better), I've been feeling like adding to the bare walls, to unpacking the final box and really just claiming it as my own. After all, most of the time I spend at home is spent in those four walls.

If I could travel across the world, the secrets I would tell.

Something extraordinary happened today. My mother finally began acting like a mother towards me again.

During the car ride home, she asked me how he-who-will-remain-anonymous and I were doing. I don't know if her words were out of curiosity or empathy, but the sentiment of her gesture meant a lot to me - even if she did take part in the break up. I think she was trying to comfort me - something she hasn't done in years.

"He only said that to you because he cares," she says. "She's probably just temporary. Maybe he's waiting for you. Maybe he'll come back to you when you're more mature and graduated from university because you're still young. You can never forget your first love. I know you still care about him. Pick up the phone when he calls, it's okay to talk to him. After all, since he's calling you, it means he wants to talk to you."

CLICK: Another Unkept Secret
That's not what she was saying 6 months ago. She's humming a different tune. Maybe she's finally starting to learn how much I care about him, but it's too little too late because it doesn't matter anymore.

As for the "You never forget your first love" deal, I wouldn't hold my breath and call what we had love. It's the rose that did not bloom because it's died before it could.


Although she was trying to instill some kind of hope in me, it was a fail. All hope vanished on Thursday April 24, 2009.

It could have been because we were actually having one of those "mother-daughter" moments I thought she wasn't capable of. It could have been because there's a fragment of me that still misses him. It could have been both. Whatever the reason, I began to cry in front of her. I let my guard down. And for the first time in a while, I felt human again.

Blame it on the goose, got you feelin` loose!

I'd just like to state the following fact:
I am not an alcoholic.

Sure, my last post makes me appear as one, but I assure you I am not. I'm just a woman who enjoys my occasional beer, cocktail, wine and spirits - and surely there is nothing wrong with that. If you think otherwise, you can take that issue up with my dear friend, Gonzo.

Alcohol does wonders. In excess, you vomit and suffer the joys of a hangover. In moderation, you're induced to a state of bliss - at least I am! I still remember every detail of every night I've drank, but the beautiful thing about alcohol is that it helps me forget the details I don't want in my memory.

No, you don't need alcohol to have a good time. When it comes to drinking, you always have the option of refusal. It's your choice, really.

Happy drinking! Cheers!

CLICK: Another Unkept Secret
The picture I used for this post is the alcohol Robbie B. bought J. Dean for his twentieth birthday. No, we didn't finish it. ^_^


P.S. Alcoholics aren't bad people as long as they're not beating you or endangering anyone's life. I know a few, and they are some of the coolest people I know.

All your sex and your diamonds.

I'm trying to clean this mess I call my room while trying to make sense of the mess I call my life.



CLICK: Another Unkept Secret



Clothes. Dirty Laundry. Books. Paper. MacBook. Jewellery. Chocolate. Vodka. Oil Burner. Shopping Bags. DS.
- Actually, more of an unkept room.

Give me sympathy after all of this is gone.

I bought two dresses today. Two of the same dress. Two different colors. And what for? After this terrible ordeal, even my money doesn't want to stay with me. It keeps looking for excuses to leave.

Where is the middle?

Last night while on updating my blog and reviewing Facebook, I was unknowingly picking at a tiny scab on my left knee. I usually don't pick at my scabs because the skin often becomes discolored. Now I'm kicking myself in the foot every time I see that abnormal, light patch of skin!

Today, at Rogers, I noticed that when it comes to purchasing a cellphone, my father is hopeless. Then again, I am too. Merde. It's genetic.

"Let's go to Coles!" said Gladjieh as we were perusing around the mall trying to kill time. While looking around the tiny bookstore, I found the Harlequin Romance novel that features a friend of a friend of mine on the cover. I remember Del Re mentioning she was on a cover of one of the novels of said series when we were at Chapters shopping for her birthday gift. He spoke of her often when revisiting memories of drunken nights that he somehow managed to remember. I've met her a couple of times and though I may not know her very well, I do know that she's a beautiful person - on both the inside and out.



* Try this out on Facebook: ↑ ↑ ↓ ↓ ← → ← → B A ENTER
Just push the corresponding keys when you're on your homepage and click around. Happy clicking!

Therapeutic shopping is a double edged sword.

... Unless, of course, you have money.

I. Cannot. Sleep.

My internal clock is officially messed up. I'll be wanting to shoot myself in the foot later on in the morning when I force myself to wake up for work. It really is too bad because I love sleeping and I love to dream.

...To die: to sleep;
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to, 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;
To sleep: perchance to dream: ay, there's the rub;
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause: there's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life...

- Shakespeare (Hamlet)