Mood:
Now Playing: the con, tegan and sara
So it's Christmas, and my gahd, the air is freezing even when it's all sunny and bright and amazing a little while ago. And i guess this weather is freaking perfect, it feels amazing when this sudden blast of wind assaults your face and you close your eyes for a second and then bam~ you feel the sun on your eyelids. It's freaking amazing, what could i say.
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Anyway, a little while ago my relatives came over to visit. And these two kids, see? They're freaking balls of freaking energy, it's as if their muscles are made out of chemical x or something. mygahd. We have these.. shooting things called Nerfs. They fire these little air bullets made of a suction end and some.. some plastic foam as the bullet's body. mygad, hala sige, baril kung baril. soon enough, the stairs had them bullets sticking out like sum kind of weird mushrooms. didn't took long enough for us to join in and pretty soon, we were firing at each other's faces like sum demented chuck norris fan.
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we ate a late dinner, and by the time the ham was gone, they were already sharing stories, catching up and shit. you know how adults go; they get caught up in their own little worlds so much that when the rare opportunity like this comes in which they can share and bond, they do it in generous helpings.
and so this was how i got acquainted with a myriad of stories told over mouthfuls of chocolate cake, ham, liempo and alcohol. Some were pretty weird and like O.O, others short and pretty shallow and sometimes there were stories behind stories, like those subliminal messages and shit. And i guess this was more like a release for them, more therapeutical than for the sake of entertainment. One thing's funny, though. Adults still don't understand the concept of telling a joke, and more than once, i was forced to laugh, which by the way is ironic, because im not fan of forced laughter. haha.
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So after the guests left, and Dad was about halfway through his bottle, he started telling stories my gad. it was horrifying to hear your dad tell you stories about his childhood (or in his case, lack of) and other things. And as much as i hate to admit it, he's a aslkjdaing amazing person. i mean, he finished an infrastructure project that was due in 8 months in 2 freaking months, leaving a huge 6-month allowance. that's gotta be freaking amazing. plus i feel like he's coming to terms with all this old age thing, and i suppose that's a good thing. at least we haven't had a shouting match in the first few days he's been here, and that's a really good thing, i suppose.
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OHSHIT, I JUST REMEMBERED A LINE FROM THE BOOK I'VE BEEN READING. AND I SWEAR I HAVEN'T THOUGHT OF IT BEFORE, IT JUST HAPPENED AS I WAS TYPING THE ABOVE PART OF THIS BLOGPOST.
Through it all, despite it all, Eddie privately adored the old man, because sons will adore their fathers through even the worst behavior. It is how they learn devotion. Before he can devote himself to God or a woman, a boy will devote himself to his father, even foolishly, beyond explanation.
-the five people you meet in heaven.mygsd. what conspiracies. i don't know whether to clap or sleep nao.
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i know i practically say this every damn blogpost, but i've been thinking about a lot of stuff lately, and it's pretty much creeping me out. there's a lot of things i want to make sure of, like whose life i'll walk with will be, or like will the things with a lot of things settle down, or will i ever finish this thing im doing. and it's amazing to think that i can still stumble through the day without knowing the answers to these questions, or without going crazy at the thought of it. but i guess in the end, happiness is a state of mind, and although
EDIT. holy crap what the hell was that right now. the next part grossed me out, so... *delete*delete*delete*
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