WAKE UP!!!
i've been awake since 10am yesterday. YESTERDAY. sobrang atat kasi lumabas ng bahay. for the past week, i've been on house arrest. self-imposed, that is. as in with matching LOA at work.
all because of some shit on my face.
go on and think i'm maarte. but i swear to you, it was like chickenpox from hell. 5 spots on my face, with one below my ear that looks like a vampire sunk its fangs halfway when it suddenly decided to gift me with a hickey instead. my dad looks like he's in pain when he'd look at me. my friend looked as if she was going to cry, imagining what it would be like if it happened to her. heck, by the third day, I was crying when i'd look at myself in the mirror. my dad then decided to take me to a doctor.
one look at my face and he said "staphyloccocus chorva chorva". airborne little fuckers. THIS is what i get for confining myself in makati??? anyway, his cure? he scraped off the wounds rather crudely with betadine and cotton balls.
very third world, very effective. during the process, i was crying, not from the pain (heck, my tattoo hurt more) but from imagining the scars that would possibly result from all this.
i left the clinic with several bandages on my face and my family decided that we all have dinner outside. in G4. how very considerate. feeling like the freakshow that i probably was, i mouthed "fuck off!" to a fellow diner who kept staring at me. actually, i shouldn't blame him. i'm sure i looked like a battered something.
anyway, after a week's sojourn from society(or at least most of it), work and alcohol, the wounds are healing. fabulously. the kiss-from-a-vampire looks more like a very obscene hickey now. the other wounds? small spots of slight discoloration that a little concealer could do wonders with.
as with a lot of things in life, you get a big blow or heartache (take your pick), you cry and succumb to self-pity for what seems like an eternity yet before you know it, you're as good as new. but not without something to remind you of what REALLY hurt.
so am i still talking about the staphylo-chorva that hit my face unexpectedly? i hope so.
* * *
i am slowly getting obsessed with the painter.
he is more known than i would ever have thought and this scares and tantalizes me at the same time.
i've been checking him out online,at the same time replying to his text messages. his works DO kick ass, as one of my friends said. the paintings he showed me at his place made me aliw with the candy colors and his use of shoes as a focal point, but the pieces i'm seeing now are darker and more intense. i wonder which of the two lean more towards his personality? from what i've seen so far, i'll bank on the candy-colored lifestyle. he isn't exactly the starving artist. but he loves ukay-ukay, so he's already a winner in my book.
todo crush na ito.
* * *
i am partying on saturday night. first stop, the company's christmas party. next stop, wherever my feet and wallet takes me.
i have to celebrate. my face, christmas, friendships, the shopping money i have, vanity and shallowness, depth and intensity... whatever... you name it, i'm going to drink to it.
care to join me?
catch me if you can.
all because of some shit on my face.
go on and think i'm maarte. but i swear to you, it was like chickenpox from hell. 5 spots on my face, with one below my ear that looks like a vampire sunk its fangs halfway when it suddenly decided to gift me with a hickey instead. my dad looks like he's in pain when he'd look at me. my friend looked as if she was going to cry, imagining what it would be like if it happened to her. heck, by the third day, I was crying when i'd look at myself in the mirror. my dad then decided to take me to a doctor.
one look at my face and he said "staphyloccocus chorva chorva". airborne little fuckers. THIS is what i get for confining myself in makati??? anyway, his cure? he scraped off the wounds rather crudely with betadine and cotton balls.
very third world, very effective. during the process, i was crying, not from the pain (heck, my tattoo hurt more) but from imagining the scars that would possibly result from all this.
i left the clinic with several bandages on my face and my family decided that we all have dinner outside. in G4. how very considerate. feeling like the freakshow that i probably was, i mouthed "fuck off!" to a fellow diner who kept staring at me. actually, i shouldn't blame him. i'm sure i looked like a battered something.
anyway, after a week's sojourn from society(or at least most of it), work and alcohol, the wounds are healing. fabulously. the kiss-from-a-vampire looks more like a very obscene hickey now. the other wounds? small spots of slight discoloration that a little concealer could do wonders with.
as with a lot of things in life, you get a big blow or heartache (take your pick), you cry and succumb to self-pity for what seems like an eternity yet before you know it, you're as good as new. but not without something to remind you of what REALLY hurt.
so am i still talking about the staphylo-chorva that hit my face unexpectedly? i hope so.
* * *
i am slowly getting obsessed with the painter.
he is more known than i would ever have thought and this scares and tantalizes me at the same time.
i've been checking him out online,at the same time replying to his text messages. his works DO kick ass, as one of my friends said. the paintings he showed me at his place made me aliw with the candy colors and his use of shoes as a focal point, but the pieces i'm seeing now are darker and more intense. i wonder which of the two lean more towards his personality? from what i've seen so far, i'll bank on the candy-colored lifestyle. he isn't exactly the starving artist. but he loves ukay-ukay, so he's already a winner in my book.
todo crush na ito.
* * *
i am partying on saturday night. first stop, the company's christmas party. next stop, wherever my feet and wallet takes me.
i have to celebrate. my face, christmas, friendships, the shopping money i have, vanity and shallowness, depth and intensity... whatever... you name it, i'm going to drink to it.
care to join me?
catch me if you can.