Balikat at braso

Hindi ganun kalaki ang mga braso’t balikat ko. Ang tsansa na matawag na fit or muscular o yung tipong gusto mong sandalan ay malayo pa sa tsansang mag-doktor ako. Pero OO, may mga nagtiyagang sumandal sa balikat ko. May highlight talaga yung MGA. (yabang men!)

Hindi ako sigurado kung gusto lang ba nila yung Bony kong balikat, hindi naman ako nagpapabango kaya crushed out na rin yung baka gusto lang nila yung amoy ko. Oh wait, baka nga! O.O

Pero hindi eh, baka nga lang talaga inaantok na talaga sila nung mga oras na yun. At ako, bilang medyo may katangkaran eh saktong sakto lang sandalan ng ulo. Men, ang swerte ko at katabi ko silang bumyahe. haha

Sabi nila, isa daw sa mga ‘errogenous zones’ ng mga lalaki ay yung balikat at braso. Kagaya ng mga labi, likod ng tenga, inner thigh, at kung ano pang naiisip mong errogenous down there. It sends signals daw to the brain and stimulates emotions of affection (?). 

Kaya naman kung mapapansin niyo, gusto naming mga kalalakihan yung hinahampas sa braso, tinatapik, hinahawakan, at syempre, sinasandalan. Kaya ingat girls, now you know.

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Alam mo yung feeling na kahit ngawit na ngawit ka na sa posisyon mo ay ayaw mo pa ring gumalaw kasi baka magising siya. Yung feeling na sana malayo pa ang rutang tahakin ng jeep para mas matagal ang moment. Alam mo yung gusto mo na ring magpanggap na tulog para masandal mo rin yung ulo mo sa ulo nya. Yung amoy na amoy mo ang bango ng shampoo /  pawis niya. Yung natitigan mo siyang nakapikit lang at mahimbing. Yung tumutulo ang laway niya!

Iba.

Iba talaga.

 

 

Hello there mga ka blog! Happy Sunday!

 

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A Walk to Ponder

 

I was doing this purposeless afternoon wandering for the second time today just to kill some time and free my mind from all other things. I planned to go to the public market on foot — a 3 mile distance from the room I’m renting. Just as I was walking seriously, finding for anything interesting –street children playing, a mother staring at her kids in hunger and in the cold, children dividing the coins they get from caroling the jeepneys– there was, amidst the chaos of the city, a girl trying to commit suicide.

I don’t know if she really wants to die. But I’m sure she’s depressed. She was walking with shoulders down, with a backpack and still in her school uniform, on the road. What is she trying to do with herself? Get killed? She was too young for that.

A jeepney almost hit her and she didn’t even care. She was dumb. She was not crying at all. Poker face. And here I was, just watching the events unfold.

I was way ahead of her now as I was maintaining a steady pace. I thought of approaching her but my current sullen mood won’t allow me. How can a depressed person cheer up someone who is depressed? As more and more jeepneys passed by, majority of which shouted “Inday, padaplin!” (Move aside, little girl!), I held my breath. I was sweating cold beads of water. Those are not because of the physical exhaustion from walking.

I was worried. It’s six in the evening. The sun has set and it’s rush hour. Peak hours for vehicular accidents. I stopped and waited for her. Walking along her, I tried to start a conversation.

“You are walking in the middle.” Remembering my previous lessons in psychiatry never to ask the word “why” as it is untherapeutic. She didn’t even looked at me. I looked into her eyes and saw deep remorse, cluttered thoughts,and un-ironed ideals. This girl needs help. 

“It is dangerous to walk in the middle of the street.” All I could do was present to her the reality she is obviously not minding. We are near the market now. I felt relieved because the vehicles are slower in this area of cluttered people. I walked fast ahead of her and bought bread in a nearby bakeshop.

I was planning to watch for any untoward signs of actual suicide. I continued following her. This time, maintaining a safe distance not to illicit suspicion on her part. I am a good stalker in real life! Not just on facebook.  No I wasn’t. I was careless enough to be far away when she reached the intersection. I’m not wearing my glasses this time and the night is slowly blinding me. I tried to turn right but it turns out it was not where she went. I circled the block hoping to see her still alive on the next corner but I was disappointed.

She was not there. The crowd of people and the possibilities of all other exits swallowed her. I gave up.

 

That’s when I prayed for her. I’m glad there’s no commotion, as if someone was hit by a car. Just the buzz of the busy market.

May God bless her. May she realize she is loved. May she value life.

And that’s when my personal inner conflict subsided. I don’t know if God used her to teach a lesson for me or was it the other way around. All I know at this moment, I am at peace.

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Here I am now, writing a blog post, for the very first time in an internet cafe. Despite the noise, I’m amazed I still did this. Good night!

The Curse of the Blank Stare

 

Daydreaming is my hobby

In a bus, in a van, in a jeepney

I just stare blankly

Thinking of millions of things that come quickly

I never knew this would get me into tragedy.

 

I am quite a thinker. I think a lot of things. In unexpected times, in unexpected places. This time, during a jeepney ride…

I was thinking of things to do this 2 long weekends. I was thinking of the things to do in my mini-vacation, what to do this Halloween, my next blog post, my ex my present my future,  her, how much money is left in my ATM, my career paths, the dirty clothes in my hamper, what DVD to buy, when my unlitxt would expire, what to eat for dinner… All the while blankly staring nowhere.

Only to find out that nowhere=the woman across my seat. She gave me that look. Anger? Shame? Bewilderment? It’s a burst of emotions. She was thinking I was staring at her body. She’s slim. Yeah, I admit she has a good body. But NO! I was not fantasizing at her bee sting boobs!

She slapped me.   Only with that look.

 

Pft! >.<  What a shame. I’m in my white uniform.

I shifted my gaze to the busy street. I did not bother to say sorry. It only adds to my guilt. I did not bother explain either. It might only make a scene. The next five minutes of riding the jeepney was a torture.

 

Lesson Learned: Mind your own daydreaming! 😀 Be watchful of your actions. You may never know how other people perceive them.