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| I'm sorry for my face. |
Ideally I would have wanted to write a long entry for my year-end post, but December has just been so exhausting physically and emotionally that I thought it would be better to recap my year with photos from my Instagram feed.
I chose the ones that stood out; the ones that were most memorable, good or bad. The images tell the story* so no captions are necessary.
So come on in, hop on the TARDIS and let's take one last look at 2012.
* I hope.
Happy Holidays, everyone! I wish you all peace and goodwill and blessings and food and monies and all other rainbow-y goodness this season!
As most of you probably don’t know, I am somewhat of a toy collector. This year, I was fortunate enough to snag me a 6” inch Iron Man from the Iron Man 2 movie line toy series. Unfortunately, I was unable to get the other two I wanted: the Iron Man Mark V armor (the one that turns into a suitcase) and the awesome but rare-as-a-fucking-unicorn War Machine figure. Earlier today, my half-sister (who lives in NY and whom I bugged months ago to try and look for said toys, too) Tweeted me about seeing a ton of Iron Man toys in a mall she was currently in, with pictures to boot. I instantly went “Jackpot!” in my mind.
Wait, these weigh far less then a ton! She lied!
Day after day he waits
For the sun to come up
On the tomorrow he hopes for
The man with the broken smile
How long has it been? He doesn't remember
He chooses not to
Things are a lot easier for him when he pretends
The man with the broken smile
Will he ever be whole again?
He doesn't know
Will he ever be whole again
The man with the broken smile
He sees with black and white eyes
The absence of hues he doesn't seem to mind
He contentedly hides behind the lies
The man with the broken smile
People pass by, he nods hello and goodbye
He forgets their names and he doesn't know why
Everything is lost in a listless haze
To the man with the broken smile
Will he ever be whole again?
He doesn't know
Will he ever be whole again
Asks the man with the broken smile
P.S. I just realized that I used the same line from a Maroon 5 song ("Look for the girl with the broken smile" from She Will Be Loved). I swear I wasn't thinking of that while I was writing this. Stupid. Oh well.
For the sun to come up
On the tomorrow he hopes for
The man with the broken smile
How long has it been? He doesn't remember
He chooses not to
Things are a lot easier for him when he pretends
The man with the broken smile
Will he ever be whole again?
He doesn't know
Will he ever be whole again
The man with the broken smile
He sees with black and white eyes
The absence of hues he doesn't seem to mind
He contentedly hides behind the lies
The man with the broken smile
People pass by, he nods hello and goodbye
He forgets their names and he doesn't know why
Everything is lost in a listless haze
To the man with the broken smile
Will he ever be whole again?
He doesn't know
Will he ever be whole again
Asks the man with the broken smile
P.S. I just realized that I used the same line from a Maroon 5 song ("Look for the girl with the broken smile" from She Will Be Loved). I swear I wasn't thinking of that while I was writing this. Stupid. Oh well.
In honor of the great Barney Stinson, I have decided to "Suit up!" today because it's..... well, International Suit Up Day. Duh.
Okay fine, I PHOTOSHOPPED IT. Happy now?
It's 3am. Everything was quiet except for the slight hum of an electric fan's motor.
He took a drag of his menthol cigarette, the long, icy trail of smoke slightly burning in his throat. He wondered how he ever got into smoking these. He used to like lights. The ones that taste like ordinary paper. Distracted, he contemplated on why he started smoking anyway.
He doesn't remember.
He dismissed the thought, took one last puff, and extinguished the stick on his overflowed white ceramic ashtray. He looked at it in disgust. He always forgets to empty the damn thing until it's too late. The bits of ash scattered around it was proof enough. A testament to his lethargy, his indifference.
He hated the feeling.
He took a drag of his menthol cigarette, the long, icy trail of smoke slightly burning in his throat. He wondered how he ever got into smoking these. He used to like lights. The ones that taste like ordinary paper. Distracted, he contemplated on why he started smoking anyway.
He doesn't remember.
He dismissed the thought, took one last puff, and extinguished the stick on his overflowed white ceramic ashtray. He looked at it in disgust. He always forgets to empty the damn thing until it's too late. The bits of ash scattered around it was proof enough. A testament to his lethargy, his indifference.
He hated the feeling.
So you've probably heard about this little promo Greenwich is having, so I won't bore you with a lame introduction. Besides, if you're reading this, you more or less know already since I've done nothing but Tweet, plurk and Tumble(?) about it these past few days (sorry about that lol). All I'm going to say is that I think I've had enough pizza to last me a whole month.
And now, let's get right on to the good stuff: pictures! (and some sort of a review, I guess.)
Revel in the memory
Of Sundays and heartaches
Of rainy days and memories
We try and I surrender
Speak of words unsaid
Of honesty and pain
Of promises and assurances
We embrace and I pull away
Look into each other's eyes
See the truth and ignore the lies
Bathe in the glow of the aftermath
We reveal and I disappear
Define something
Say anything
Hate everything
We try, but I fall.
Of Sundays and heartaches
Of rainy days and memories
We try and I surrender
Speak of words unsaid
Of honesty and pain
Of promises and assurances
We embrace and I pull away
Look into each other's eyes
See the truth and ignore the lies
Bathe in the glow of the aftermath
We reveal and I disappear
Define something
Say anything
Hate everything
We try, but I fall.
Me, the whole day today. I see a lot of this in the near future.
- Woke up late. Again.
- Panicked because the guitar I borrowed from a friend for my first gig seemingly had a crack on the neck.
- Took a cab from home because of said guitar, and ended up paying a hell of a lot more than anticipated because of EDSA traffic.
- That darned traffic made me more late than I already am. Also, cab's engine kept conking out during the whole trip. That fucker.
- Did nothing for the most part if the day. Oh, and that crack on the guitar's neck? It was there even before I borrowed it. Yeah.
- Performed a relatively successful attack on that Eat-All-You-Can-Chicken promo at Max's Restaurant. One whole chicken was cut into four parts, then served to customers. I had 6.
- I was aiming for AT LEAST 7.
- The Creative Director at work (my immediate boss) talked to me before I left the office. Imma leave out the details for now, but let's just say that as of the moment, I have 30 days to look for another job.
- It's 3am, and I still feel full. I shouldn't have had 6.
- I'd probably end up waking late again tomorrow. I mean later. Whatever.
So about a month ago, I was looking for fonts to use on my 3rd tattoo. The plan was to have the names of my grandparents (4 of them) inked on my arm. I posted an image of several options online, then asked people to choose and comment on them (Yes, I am self-important like that. Shut up). It was a good move, and pretty soon one of my friends Mary Joy Manalastas, friend extraordinaire and ruler of all that is pure and good, replied and demanded suggested something interesting:
She made an interesting argument, yes? Heh. Anyway, I was finally able to get the grandparents to write their names down yesterday......... why don't you ask each of the people named to write their own names???? then put them together. much more personalized and meaningful AND DOESNT LOOK LIKE A DOWNLOADED FONT!!!