Thursday, April 30, 2009

child photography

immerse in thought

i love taking photos of children and women. this is my favorite so far for this month. hope u all like it ^.^

Monday, April 27, 2009

wtf?! who is that?!

hooookay - anybody got any invites or pms from an account name leah_valle2002?

well -- i did -- wtf?!
i don't need me to invite myself to be my friend
-- twisted as it sounds --and twisted I may be--

see, I got a friend request -- and i was puzzled to see my name on it.  thought it is just a coincidence... I have a facebook friend who has the same name and family name-- different face though, different sets of friends -- meaning, she is a legit person who just happened to have the same name and family name. With that in mind -- I added this leah_valle2002 nick in my messanger.  

So imagine my surprise when I opened to see its details and saw certain creepy personal details that I don't think anybody really knows except for my old friends -- like what?like my dad's old home number, that's what! it's been disconnected years ago already and I don't live in my dad's house anymore, and my dad's been dead for years too! I don't think he has messanger on the grave! wifi is just not available in the underworld. wifi is one of the perks of the living and the undead ones roaming the urban zone.

anyway, any pms from the mentioned nick above is --
let me be clear about this -- is 
not from me.

My account is just my name - plain and simple -
 it is many years old and i don't use year crap ever!

the Poser's nick -
leah_valle2002 -  was just created March2009. 

Let me say this again-- THAT NICK is NOT MINE and if you receive invites and msgs from that account, THAT IS NOT ME!

of course you can add -- it is your perogative -- all i want is that you do not associate me with this nick.  this is not mine, im not using it, and I can't use it even if I wanted to.  So don't picture me out giggling behind, typing crazy stuff if the person behind this makes you laugh =P and if you don't speak to me again, I'd assume you didn't read this post and the poser pissed you off -- uh-oh =C 

so whoever you are who is using my nick - preferably maybe to spy on me or worse, get information about me by posing -- please stop it.

Didn't your mom give you your own name? use it.

Friday, April 24, 2009

ask me.

Rain is heavy and is making me more reflective than usual. 
Heavy rains do that.  I like the pitter patter rythm it creates as I silently hum it inside my head.  and yes, as usual, I stare at my wall to the point of almost burning a hole into it.  

I am twenty-five and as I look back in my life, I've pretty much accomplished what I wanted to accomplish.  In fact, I always get what I want, despite the complicated chains of relationships and choices that I tie myself with.

So what else do I want? 
 What is there to do? 
What am I to do with my life?

I could easily answer those -with a quick, superficial, and thoughtless reaction in verbal translations.  It is so easy to get carried away and in the course of answering those questions -- it is, as always, so easy to forget the reason of asking them in the first place.

but --- what is the REAL question?
am I asking myself the right ones?   
Am i concerning myself with the issues that must be prioritize? 
is it worth it?

Four years of Philosophy  -- and still, critical thinking on my part requires effort.  
The convenience of common understanding and stock social definitions are so conveniently within reach that I have to disengage myself - and disengage so in a very frustrating way to be effective even in my personal reflections.  

My prejudice of things and the past knowledge that I have - both voluntarily and involuntarily - acquired is just making it hard for me to see things in its naked truth.

And so with my life as I question it, I cannot help but look back and define me with my past experiences and choices --- but is that all there is to me and my life? 

Am I to be defined by my past and is hopelessly bound to be molded through and through by my future? 

Will I always be an unfinished present project of the universe-- wrecking havoc and change as I grow and consume life the way I am doing so right now? -- or am I, really?

In college, I've dreamt of social change and I've worked for it through my arts.  I've learned to bend my body to adjust to the social curriculum of my community.  I've learned to flick my fingers at the beating of the drum as I find my rythm and balance in this social dance I was born into.  And as I listen to the music, as I watch the people gaping and in awe with my movements, as I felt the hot lights burning my skin... I noticed that they cannot see beyond the stage.  

They loved my dance but they do not care to understand what it is for. 
They follow my steps but stays only with the groove they are familiar with.  
Anything new, anything strange -- anything they do not know -- they see as dangerous.

And as the beat became faster, the steps harder, and the actions more complicated -- they didn't care to follow.  They stayed in their comfort zone, smiling and clapping -- but nonetheless disengaged at the experience, not caring to join -- not bothering to step in, promising support -- but always at a distance -- feigning sympathy, pretending to know with their textbooks in hand, with memorized theories... with complicated research citations...

How can you understand the rythm of hunger if you haven't experienced starvation? How can you say you know how it feels to be poor when you have an abundant life?
How can you say you care -- when in your eyes -- all you see are strangers doing even stranger things.

Yes, some changes happened -- some social shake here and there that rocked the arrogant struture and composition of certain institutions.  but then again -- it was but a little pebble that created a series of ripples in the pool of tears... 

My performance has come to an end -- and as the lights died I took my bow, as I see them leave -- I found my dance to be shallow -- and I found myself asking -- "did I do the right thing?"

All these doubts -- all these concerns--- all these questions, for a certain, cannot be answered on my own.  Like the rain, it needs the earth to catch it. The water needs to kiss the soil, to flow within the roots of every tree, to be savored by every being, to round the grounds back and forth till it evaporates itself to become it once was...a dripping liquid phase of life.

one's questions  must then be like rain. 
fluid and ever flowing...

because -- Baseless questions can hurt the soul.
Unanswered queries can burn the mind. 
the Wrong type of asking  can only bury one in doubt... 
Redundant ones hardens the heart...

So what do I want? Where do I begin? What to do? 
**Looking -- waiting -- so far -- no answers are in sight.


Hot Momma Award

oh wow got a hot momma award from Bill ^.^
although, i have to say, no way am i eating that thingie in the photo -- i just can't handle spicy stuff --- *shivers.

Friday, April 17, 2009

the pain, the past, and the present

Gettin ready for the weekend's steel fencing. Of course the doctor said something about laser -- wow! she just know how to make things sound even more complicated and -- err painful. Thank God for the discovery of Anesthesia, i wonder how some treatment, like -- ehem -- surgery?, would advance had anesthesia was not discovered. Hospital corridors would be like a clean prototype of a standard A slaughterhouse.

"Welcome! to the world of bleating patients and growling physicians. **in this case -- you'd be thanking heavens for the invention of A/C...
coz at least, u can bleat in your own privacy as the doctor sticks his hand on your stomach by inserting his finger on your nose. waaahhh... oh wait -- anesthesia comes before a/c -- hahah!

anesthesia was introduced around 1840s. Before that, patients are expected to whimper in pain or suck it up like a gentleman. "Uhh, excuse me Mr. Bunny, but I have to take your intestines out to clean them -- it's gonna be uncomfortable -- but you'll live" ...toinks -- in this case, id choose death.

This makes me grateful to my mom -- SHE, who gave birth to me in this era and age of aesthetics and superficiality. Where everything is ready to wear and over the counter. Where there is beer to cure certain heartaches and TV to entertain the sad. Where giving birth can be as easy as one-two-three (errr or something... it is not life if it ain't painful in some ways,y ou know...and giving birth is giving forth new life -- literally =P)

Well, may I gently remind you that I am a mother of FOUR. I mean, how could you expect me to give birth without any pain medication. It's gonna be like giving birth to a watermelon... OR---NOOOOO ! -- it's gonna be like spurting out a condo building, with Olympic-sized swimming poolS and parking spaces (with parked SUVs and buses), not to mention rooftops and balconies...who knows! the annoying guard with his gun, along with the town's carabao might come out too! waaaah!

In the olden times, I think they get you drunk or use opium -- great... a legitimate reason to be a drunk or an addict.

After grunting a whole community of soon-to-be scientists and world leaders, you'd be lucky to survive with anything intact...

"oh you'd sew them for me? -- no thank you" --

"you insist?! thank you but no --- im fine with the gaping hOle in my stomach-- the doctor slashing it with an axe did a good job of introducing pain, I don't need you poking and poking me with that needle you just heated in the furnace...."

" oh no --please, I'll kill you if you touch me!!!"


I'm a scaredy cat when it comes to hospitals.

My brother does medical missions every year and i could just remember the stacks of supply in my dad's home. Stacks of IVs, catether, needles, meds, etc...that hasn't been used and was just stocked there till the next mission schedule. It was, in my eyes then, very very interesting -- but when you have someone who knows how to manipulate the syringe and is doing so to instill fear in you -- it can be traumatizing as well.

Those wittle machines you see in the ER are but an appliance we commonly use at home. That's why i feel like im home in ER -- no -- when I say I feel like its home, it's not the same thing as being comfortable. It just means, I'm no stranger to the apparatus -- but am unfriendly still towards it.

Those machines and apparatus could be so cold sometimes, invading your inner most privacy that sometimes it makes you think if it is actually reading and translating your thoughts in various frequencies.

Spent half of my life in hospitals where my check up interval were spaced between weeks and admission is a constant requirement every month. My sorry ass stays in the hospital bed for days and I go home almost always not knowing what really happened.

The doctor dont talk to mom doesn't, my dad is somewhere in the States, my brother doesnt know anything and I didn't ask...

I don't know why -- confinement seems as if its the normal thing to do before- a small fever, a gentle cough, difficulty in breathing -- often results to a cbc test and IV insertion with half of my family and neighbors worried to death... sheesh.

I remember I was admitted during an exam week -- and it was the finals... and I remember, almost crawling my way to the 5th Floor -- for someone who can't even stand straight- that was not a very enthusiastic experience for me...needless to say, I was not a happy camper when I reach my destination. Oh how did I manage to walk? i wasn't walking -- my ex husband dragged me to insanity till i budged a little...

And so with my exploits in the white halls of the sick, I am happy, I'm visiting a dentist this sunday. At least, her office is not white, and it is always full of cheerful people. Except for that monstrous needle she needs to poke my gums with...I'm fine...--well --if only she could take that stainless thingie she has on her platter of torture, I'd be ok. oh-- and If only she'd do it silently without the light chatter coz it makes me nervous, she might not be concentrated enough -- *breathes deep -- inhale.exhale. It's gonna be alright.

I think I'm in good hands...
(but I'll drag my mom with me...just to be sure.)

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

I love you but I don't really have to like you, right?

Jerk Pictures, Images and Photos

It's a classic. You fall in love with someone you would never ever thought of loving.

what's that line? over my dead body
well, in this case, he just stepped over your corpse...coz you already died when he flashed you that smile that made you curl your toes as you heart was melting.

he is just so wrong for you...huh?
he is everything you wouldn't put in your wanted-boyfriend ads -- 
and the way he limps when he walks, you'd think he is drunk! 
and his hair is always too long and messy!
and he has the expression that you just want to slap off his face...

it's kinda annoying isn't it?  To hear a friend talk over and over again over how lame this one guy is. Or what a jerk  he might be. What a big loser he is with his friends...and gosh, have you heard of the girl he kissed last night? she is soo into telling you how she hates this guy that she never notices that -- all SHE talks about is him.

and so you drop hte million dollar question -- "do you like him"
classic answer would be -- a surprised expresion, hands flailing, eyebrows being raised and a firm - NO! of course not.

inside I scream ---  "then why is it that all we talk about is him?!"
makes you laugh right? she is falling for him and she doesn't even know it.

but its almost always the case with us girls, we end up wanting the one thing we swore to never put in our "ideal man" list... we scratch their faces off our own little world, never wnating to write his name -- and then-- tadaaa!! we end up signing a marriage contract instead waaahhhh!

No I'm not talking about my love story here. God know my own story is sooo crooked and messy, you'd end up wanting to drown yourself, rather than read and suffer the irony of my life. Not that it is that much of a's more of following an idiotic sense when common sense should have prevailed.  

Hey! it's not easy being me you know, so back off -- I'm sure you have your own sob story hidden somewhere between your armpits...all i have to do is make you raise your arm and tickle you. kuchi kuchi kuchi.

anyways. what about this friend of mine? oh I'll call her later and pretend to listen while i have my earphone on the other ear. 
It's always the same old lines. I just like hearing her voice. It is sort of a comfort, regardless of the fact that all i get is almost always a replay of complaints and subliminal i-love-him messages. 

I don't have to like the guy to listen to his story...I love my friend enough...and I like hearing her rant. Something I can use against her when the need arises hahahaha! she has the right to remain silent-- and nope, she aint using that right...tsk tsk tsk.

anyways...  is it really possible to love someone you can't even like?

like is a relative word, right? could it be that you like him but your dislike of his personality is just a scale higher, thus highlighting hate more?  

i mean, there are certain relationships that displays me and my mom.  There is no doubt I love my mom and I mean the world to her... if I get hurt, she'd die for me --- but sometimes, I know for a certain, that although she'd lay her life for me, there are times when she'd be willing to get an axe to chop my head off... 

Thank God,  sanity prevails...or is it the deficiency of the moment? (we don't have an axe sharp enough to cut ** ain't i lucky o.0  - sheeesh).

It's a love and hate relationship.
Even with my bestfriend.  who is sooo stupid and insecure "he" would wage war with his current partner --and guess what, I get to be blamed for it, becuase duh, i'm the only one who is close enough to the partner and her...waaah!

that's why, I didn't talk to her for months. I don't wanna be in the middle of a war where my only mistake was to be strategically positioned in middle! 

they throw bombs and they gun eachother! guess who ends up dead? me!
i get to catch all the bullets becuase I am within the firing range...drat! my ass hurts!!! and to think her partner is not really doing anything. she would say things and ask her about stuff that irks her...because it is really annoying to be asked stoooooooopid questions. 

At First, I tell my bestfriend... leave her alone!!!! i can't have you on her ass while I am working with her! nope -- "HE" doesn't listen..hooookay... FINE! I teach the  girl to turn off her phone if my bestfriend becomes too annoying...hahahahah! 

then they end up fighting becuase the stooopid bestfriend gets the wrong message, the girl hears a different thing because my bestfriend twists my sentences!!!! blah. blah. blah....

wait a minute! this aint my problem!...shyet.
 so i excused myself and dropped them both off to the floor to take care of their own asses -- i've underestimated them ....coz they are now doing very well on their own *laughs 

but yeah, my bestfriend irks me to the point of making me want to commit murder. But we are both different. and we do not necessarily have to laugh at eachother to know we have eachother. If i axe my bestfriend's head, and somebody out of sheer pity helps me, I'd turn to axe him down becuase he axed my bestfriend -- he has no right to do that! 

yeah... That's how sick our relationship is. 

and so this thingie with my friend that is somewhat annoying because she can't stop talking about this guy she doesnt like? nah! it's peanuts. 

If she asks me for advice, I'd tell her to go ask him on a date and then tell me how horrible it was **grins.  but of course -- over her dead body.

Sunday, April 12, 2009

you're sorry? ok, now what?

Ever notice how a couple fight over something as simple as a glass of water? Or how the woman just fumes when the husband mentions a very common word? You see, it's not the glass of water, it's not the word, it's not even the's that hurt triggered to surface, transforming into anger.

The hurt is buried deeper than it should-- making one bleed even more when one tries to get it out.  Because when the wound was fresh, you try to cover it too much with pleasing words, you try to dismiss it -- and you pretend it didn't happen -- even before it has gotten the satisfaction it needs in a certain discussion.  

I can feel the steaming heat of a certain supressed anger just as if it is my own in certain people.  I've always had this keen sense of character and feeling.don't ask me, i just do.

but when I get hurt, my sensitivity to other people's aura becomes numb. 

It becomes a sensitivity to myself...where everything I think and feel is geared towards thinking why this certain person has managed to hurt me.

so, the word sorry, when said, when one is hurt, doesn't really mean anything...

it's like poking someone with a knife to know if they'd bleed-- they didn't --but they are dying because of it...

believe me, the knife you thrusted hurt -- and when you pull it will even hurt more -- probably resulting to death...

so yeah -- you can always get a doctor to save the person -- but you see, you already knifed her-- she may live, but she will always look at you as someone who tried to kill her.

i mean, -- well here's another scenario -- 
your bestfriend becomes a murderer.
She tries to kill you. you live.

Will you still call her and update her that you are home from the hospital and it's chika time? NOOO... 

but she is your bestfriend!!! of many years?! the answer would be NOOOO -- she tried to killed you remember?. 

But she's THE BESTFRIEND --- well - duh.

if u think otherwise...there is something seriously wrong with u.

am i making sense? yes? good.  -- no? better, it means you're getting smarter.

Anyways, There is this one forum that discussed about saying sorry - if its a big deal or not...

my first post was this:
saying sorry doesnt change anything.
it cannot erase the past.
it cannot heal the hurting.
it's just a word losers use just so they could sleep better at night after what they've done. 
then someone pm'd me, saying that yes, sorry cannot heal the hurt, change the past, and it will not change anything -- and maybe that's becuase sorry is not really about it at all? 

**my thoughts -- well, what then is saying sorry about? aren't you saying sorry because you've hurt the other and is trying to mend her broken heart and gain her trust again?

then he added -  that maybe its about this -- whenever he says sorry, it's because he regrets eveyrthing he's done ---

*my thoughts -- well, maybe you should then say sorry to YOURSELF? since the sorry is actually about you and what you've done and how you feel about it now that you've hurt someone... (?)

he adds - that it hurts him too whenever he says sorry...

**my thoughts -- (what the frick...)

(*sigh) i don't know the guy and he was nice as hell in his message - but I so want to strangle his horns and slap his face and say - 

you're hurting?! just what do you think the other person feels then when it's actually THEM who felt the blow of YOUR STUPIDITY?
but i didnt --aside from the fact that it was just a message and I dont really know him and so i cannot gauge his horn if its something i can grab on to....whenever the situation to de-bull him arises --- he doesn't really deserve it hehehe.

he is just someone nice, passing by, cared enough to pitch in his thoughts, means just happened that he messaged the wrong person -- because the biatch who received it feels strongly about the subject **Evil Laugh. 

but here comes the bomb line of his message - Was I just being a jerk who's trying to clear myselft of guilt?

so of cource the biatch has to reply :
... to be in a situation is a've chosen to hurt -- and yes, saying sorry hurts too. that then makes you think -- maybe you are not the person that you once think you are. 

yes, nobody is perfect, but in a relationship, the only acceptable sorry is when you've hurt the other person because u loved her too much....  

saying sorry about going astray in a relationship is bull...because it takes time to know other people... to like is a process..a slow, intricate one...a process you could have stopped anytime but havent...but you can always say sorry -- but she doesnt always have to accept it, just as you've had the choice of stopping urself but didn't until someone got hurt.  

so, were you being a jerk? you tell me.
ladies and gentlemen, I rest my case.

Saturday, April 11, 2009

Holy Week for the 'erehes' like me.

No - I'm not Catholic - but I am, oh so feeling the "Holy Week".
Not that my days are are really cheerful.  Despite the perky, bubbly, and happy-go-lucky attitude -- I am a homebuddy.  I have no problem with being in the four corners of my BEDROOM for endless days -- so staying home and roaming THE HOUSE is not really that much of an issue here... well, yeah a little bit -- I'd rather be in the bedroom... (I know, I'm pathetic -- I dont need you to know that).

Back to the Holy Week thing -- I am so feeling it because almots everybody seems to be pre-occupied with-- well recounting their sins.  But now that I am thinking of it-- I'm not sure. well, 
Haller...Holy week is about asking for forgiveness  -- thus the word REPENT is apt... not REMINISCE.  

Sheeesh. I have weird friends...they are borderline crazy! -- it's good that I'm only pathetic... ehehe!

hookay  - aside from my friends remembering their sins and not being sorry about it..the next subject to tackle at hand is the issue of Ate Neng's mom-- who is almost 6o years old-- and the reason that drove to her to runaway.  

Now, I am 25, but I do know the advantages of swallowing sermons, letting the hurtful words pass the right ear only to let it exit on the other ear... and having a nice bed to sleep in to cry my woes in silence...

Running away is a very tempting option...but never ever the most beneficial choice.  

In fact, it benefits you nothing but mosquito bites on the street, maybe a near-rape experience (mostly for girls -- hey -- gays can be really strong too, guys!), not to mention humiliating looks from strangers- coz you look like shit.  

Ever faced a mirror after you've cried your heart out? 
It makes you wanna cry more huh? 

Your heart is hurting and your face looks like someone scratched poison ivy on it.  The world is just too cruel.  Life is good at aiming where it really hurts, it just doesnt stop at your heart, it leaves a mark on your face -- that makes me think, nobody really died of heart attack looking beautiful. 

Damn! can you imagine a very vain person, who've invested thousands and thousands or pesos in perfecting their appearance only to die looking funny and weird?  It's like grooming your whole day for that one preformance of your life to look bad... 

and do you know what they put in the dead person's lips to make it look as if they are smiling? its EPOXY -- nope, Vicky Belo, will not be anywhere near a dead person for botox... sorry, Formaline is the standard agent to use to preserve your carcass.

Oh well, it's a good thing dead people don't walk like regular people -- nyehehe...Anyways, as we all cannot avoid to cry -- let's just avoid the mirror, shall we?

Now - where were we? oh! looking like shit and being in the streets -- well, you can avoid strangers by staying put, but if you are really adamant in leaving home, you can try putting make up on before running away- although we did have a talk about avoiding the mirror so that wouldn't work either -- you'd still look like shit...but with make up on...sorry.

But running away, in some cases might be the best option -- if and only if --
1.  you are a battered wife
no reason to stay and be a punching bag, I;m sure you'd be happier as a bag lady in the streets somewhere...

2. you are in the midst of flesh-eating neighbors
either there is something wrong with you -- or you're neighbor(s) - you don;t want to take chances with you;re neighbor-- after all, you know yourself (or something... i hope...)

3.  or you're wife caught you cheating... 

In regards to number 3 -- well, you do know that you can run but you can never hide right? either way, you're dead -- may the force be wiht you and may you get the purple sword of This-Jedi- that- was-SHAQ- in- this- other- movie when u most needed it. Good Luck and hope you don't get caught on the day Catholics consider as the day where the christ is dead... The best day would Christmas, where the joyful cheer is abundant and forgiving is a must.

Oh, this relationship thingie reminds me of the reason why Te Neng's mom ran away.  The issue was her eldest son and his wife is on a marital battle that might end up in a separation.  I can't seem to figure out what is her part here, aside from the fact that she is THE mother.

Oh well, what do I know about these things... nothing really =P 

Have a peaceful holy week everyone. Do the world a favor - Be good =P
my apologies for the not so holy thoughts this week.

Thursday, April 09, 2009

error terror

Hooookay - I labor for two days - wanting to finish just 5 pages of what I started. Almost there--feeling happya bout it...then, a moment of stupidity happened whereby I pushed the wrong button and i get this!!!!

AAARRRGGGHHHHHH!!! I know life is unfair -- but for once! --- can it just give me a break! drat!!!!!! 

Thursday, April 02, 2009

of pink taxis, emergencies and the salted people of the earth

tell me about borderline insanity.
This week is just plain crazy. It started in a pace in rhythm with excitement of promised adventures and peaks of another reality of existence only to be greeted by the angel of death with its kiss of bursting pain and discomfort -- both physically and emotionally. It's peck on the cheek delivered the same expected promises of another calibre.

It involves a jet plane ride of the unconscious.
A transfer of plans.
An entrapment in the four white prison walls located amidst the busy chanting of the sick and the wounded.
It swirled to the joyful humming of the nth floor, an excitement that proved too much that it ended with bitter words and careless decisions.

But the moment was captured and now it is frozen in time inside the hourglass of each player's mind as each replays what went wrong and what went wayward as each licks its own wound -- wishing that the soul heals with each stroke of the doctor as he cleans the wound the angel of death planted.

It's been a long trying week for each.

He writhes in pain and seeks oblivion in sleep, or in his drugged consciousness and irregular moans...

The other tries to find her peace in her solitude as she silently sheds her tears of fear and angst.

For her, to be trapped is never a problem...but to be out of reach and be trapped in a solid world of warm blankets and cold drinks is a matter she cannot understand as she concerns herself with the reality she has to face.
A reality she didn't expect.
A reality that pushes her away as it needfully sends it hands for help.
A reality that says one thing but does another.
A reality that possesses a soul hungry for attention and time -- always needing to be emotionally fed and always longing to be comforted.

Drained and confused...tired and almost unconscious of the reality she is in, everything becomes surreal, everything becomes doubtful, everything starts to spin...and with the other's big round eyes, he unkonowingly pushed her wheel to the maximum, as he leaned to take her hand, trying to comfort her with his hold while moaning his great agony to the world...

but the spinning of the events was too fast for him to grip that his big saucer eyes lost got dizzy and it turned to chew on its own kind.

Now time has made so that by daylight, the spinning stops, and as each recovers from the dizzying effect of the ride they thought they could handle, Morning stepped in and stretched...tearing the two beings apart...making sure they never hurt eachother again.

The sun ushered her towards the pink taxi, with its wheels ready to run to take her home as the stars promised the other a salted comfort during the night...