Now I understand. Wives become naggers because their husbands no longer pay attention to them. When a calm voice fails to get the message across, yelling seems to be the next best option. It’s like they’re saying, “LISTEN TO ME, YOU A-HOLE! YOU’VE IGNORED ME LONG ENOUGH!”

quedateconmigo:

To download the entire first issue for free, click the link below:

http://alanguilan.com/sanpablo/elmer/elmer01.cbr

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Now I know why Neil Gaiman said Elmer is one of his favorite comic books (personally, I think that when Neil Gaiman says this about your work, you can go die now :P). With amazing artwork and an even more amazing way to look at prejudice, this comic book really makes me proud that it was Filipino-made.

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and because i just timed-in at 5AM - like a rooster, yo

 I had the same experience riding the bus home yesterday. I was standing because there were no available seats left, but I didn’t mind. I had a view of the setting sun over the coast. I always marvel at the mix of shades of pink and blue it creates in the sky. It makes me feel very fortunate to be alive and be able to behold such beauty.

Reading reviews in the New York Times in the hope of being as good a writer and developing as refined in taste as the critics.

I saw a guy wearing a National Geographic shirt with the print: “Ignorance is boring.” Maybe. But being a damn know-it-all is annoying.

Shelter is a basic necessity, but if you’re earning close to minimum wage like my boyfriend and me, it’s a luxury.

It depresses the fuck out of me to not be able to afford even the simplest of houses.

I never fully understood this idiomatic expression. Yes, I know what it means. You can’t have your cake and eat it too — you can’t be with your nagging wife and have sex with other hot people at the same time, blah blah blah. It’s the literal meaning that bothers me.

I have my cake, but why can’t I eat it? I enter a bake shop, I choose the most palatable-looking cake, I hand over some hard-earned moolah to the cashier, and when I get home, you’re going to tell me I can’t even have a slice of it? But hey, at least I can say I own it. It’s mine, but I’m forbidden to eat it.

There is something seriously wrong with that.

I did some research — and by “some” I mean Wikipedia.org. It says in the History section of the idiom’s entry that the earliest known mention of it was when John Heywood wrote it in his dialogue Conteinyng the Nomber in Effect of All the Prouerbes in the Englishe Tongue as such:

wolde you bothe eate your cake, and have your cake?

According to the entry, he was “alluding to the impossibility of eating your cake and still having it afterwards.”

Now, I don’t know how credible that statement is (it’s Wikipedia after all), but that makes much more sense than its present-day wording. Of course when you have already eaten your cake, you can’t have it anymore afterward unless you have an eating disorder or you like to preserve your own vomit.

Whoever changed the order of words must have thought that “have your cake and eat it too” sounds more catchy and less gross than “eat your cake and have it again.” As for as how the latter wording will actually affect the meaning of the idiom, I really don’t care. But I can now sleep better at night with the knowledge that the inventor of the expression was not dumb at all. The evolution of language was to blame here.

Because I have to dispel all this negativity. It’s bad for my baby. I’m sorry for the ranting that’s about to commence.

I just don’t see the point of retouching one’s make-up for about 10 minutes in the communal office C.R. when one is about to go home. Getting pissed at that may sound petty, and trust me, I would overlook encountering a girl or two taking the time to paint her face if it happened once or twice. But every single day, around 10 in the evening, rain or shine, is a different story. Come on, girls (yes, girls — there are at least four of them), you’re about to go home; who are you really dolling up for? The jeepney/bus driver? Who would even care to notice if your lashes are perfectly curled and coated with mascara? Your fellow commuters are already tired; they are less likely to give you a catcall, let alone notice you. You’re just wasting a decent amount of time and product on that face, but above all, you’re taking up the space that’s supposed meant for people who wish to wash, soap, and dry their hands.

I truly wish I can put up a sign on the mirror that says, “Please do not loiter.”

I was pretty sure I chose “save as draft” from the drop-down for my writing exercise post. Apparently, I must have been on autopilot last night and hit “add to queue” instead. I feel embarrassed for posting an unfinished work — I actually felt my face burn when I saw it on my dashboard. I will be posting it again once it’s done.

Anyway, thanks @dispatchesfromnoir for the like and the follow. :)

Yep, it’s my birthday. I felt a little older when I received a text message from Jaycee that said, “… your life is so serene now. In a way, you’ve found inner peace already.”

I guess that’s true. I’m really happy and content with where I am right now in my life even though I’m far from the career path I want. Hopefully, this year will be the same.

… I miss going to school. And I don’t mean college, when all I remember doing was getting myself shit-faced or stoned almost every night. I mean going to school as a kid. Everything was simpler back then — social interactions, learning, managing my measly allowance.

Everything was a wonder.