I've been wanting to blog about this but I haven't been feeling blogg-y lately. But neways, two weeks ago in Liwanag we were talking about stuff that we would give up for lent. And my awesome family sister Vanessa said sumtin that made me think about my actions. She said sumtin like... it seems that everyone is always giving up this, or willing to stop doing that, blahblahblah. Wouldn't it be better if instead of "not doing" sumtin or "giving up" sumtin, everyone should "do sumtin"? Am I making sense? I thought it made perfect sense. People are usually focusing on the things that they would stop doing for lent. Well, what good will that do exactly? Wouldn't it be better if people actually DO sumtin that would make a difference? Just a thought.

Watched The Passion of the Christ with practically everyone last night after Ash Wednesday mass. It kinda weirded me out how they kinda made the movie kinda scary/creepy/suspense-y in the beginning. I guess it's just to set the mood for the movie. But that's not the important part neway so it doesn't rilly matter. I'm not very good with words, and I rilly don't know how to express the feeling I had after watching the movie. Let's just say if I was watching the movie by myself, I would be crying from start to finish. It did not seem like I was just watching a movie. It seemed like I was there to witness it and see the sacrifice He went through for me. I couldn't bare witnessing every single beating and torture. It was as if I wanted to tell them to stop but I couldn't. I guess I never fully realized His love until I saw all of that. It made me question even more why I deserve all that I have.

So newaysssssssssssssss...

I finally did the STD (now called STI or Sexually Transmitted Infections) class for my 6th-7th grade girls yesterday. My partner Fernanda and I prepared for that thing the whole saturday and I'm glad it turned out good. Yay for us! Thanx to Irene who helped me out when Fernanda had to leave. It was nice to see all the mentees have fun with the game we played. Even my shy little mentee was participating and I was rilly excited for her! It was just funnie how after hearing all about the scary stuff about STI's and how you can get them through their "partners", one girl asked "So we can't even hug?!?!?!" That was fun.

Wow this has been a perty long blog. And I thought I wasn't in a blogg-y mood. That's all I have to say for now. Been tired lately as usual so I may seem down n out sumtimes...but I guess it's coz of stress. And bitterness. Which I rilly should work on starting today. It's rilly hard when you're the bitterest person in this world. Aahhhh ionow. I need to stop. I need to let it go. I don't know how, but I'm asking for strength. That's all I'm asking.

Friday night breakdown:

- Interfaith props making session
- chilltoime at neighbor Kayleen with everyone
- Mardi Gras
- more chilltoime

TIRED.

Songs of the week:

Panalangin sa Pagiging Bukas Palad (Prayer for Generosity)

Panginoon, turuan Mo ako maging bukas-palad
Turun Mo akong maglingkod sa Iyo
Na magbigay nang ayon sa nararapat
Na walang hinihintay mula sa 'Yo
Nang makibakang di inaalintana
Mga hirap na dinaranas
Sa tuwina'y magsumikap na hindi humahanap
Ng kapalit na kaginhawaan
Na 'di naghihintay kundi ang aking mabatid
Na ang loob Mo'y siyang sinusundan

Translated...

Prayer for Generosity

Dearest Lord, teach me to be generous
Teach me to serve You as I should
To give and not to count the cost
To fight and not to heed the wounds
To toil and not to seek for rest
To labor and ask not for reward
Save that of knowing that I do Your most holy will

Dancy song of the week:

Officially Missing You by Tamia

All I hear is raindrops
Falling on the rooftop
Oh baby tell me why’d you have to go
Cause this pain I feel
It wont go away
And today I’m officially missing you
I thought that from this heartache
I could escape
But I fronted long enough to know
There ain’t no way
And today
I’m officially missing you

Ohhhh can’t nobody do it like you
Said every little thing you do
Hey baby say
stays on my mind
And I, and I, I’m officially

All I do is lay around
Two ears full tears
From looking at your face on the wall
Just a week ago you were my baby
Now I don’t even know you at all
don’t know you at all
Well I wish that you would call me right now
So that I could get through to you somehow
But I guess it’s safe to say baby safe to say
That I’m, That I'm officially missing you

Well I thought I could just get over you baby
But I see that’s something I just can’t do
From the way you would hold me
To the sweet things you told me
I just can’t find a way
To let go of you

It official
You know that I’m missing you
oohhh Yeah yes
All I hear is raindrops
ooohhh yeah
And I’m officially missing you

I love my mom.

Three-day weekend is over and despite the major tiredness thoughout the entire weekend, I can honestly say that I had a lot of fun.

Thanx to BJ for making my Friday and Saturday extra-fun even though we jus chilled half a day. Oh and thanx for taking me home too. Thanx for the food-filled presents. I want more macaroons and empandas. Please?

Saturday night at Rancho Cucamonga with family. Of course, family parties are always food-filled and therefore love-filled. Food = Love right?

Sunday was my lolo's 80th surprise party at Manila Buffet at the Exchange. I knew that all the preparations for the party were worth it right when my lolo came in the restaurant completely surprised and started crying. HAPPY BIRTHDAY LO!

Sunday night was Filipino mass with the whole family. It's kinda sad how I didn't rilly know the responses in Tagalog just coz I always go to the English mass. But right when they started singing the Tagalog songs, dude it was over. I remember almost all the songs they sang because I used to sing it all the time in my old school and I loved all of em. That was awesome.

Sunday dinner at lola's house. Food once again. Finding Nemo. Cousin-time. I miss that.

Monday tried to study. Irvine.

Now, I'm at work with a mess of crap to do on my desk and I'm blogging. So I guess I should work?

I couldn't stand it anymore so I told my boss about the damn plant. Apparently, she's been smelling it too but she jus didnt wana say anything (I guess coz she thought it was me that stank ugh). So we hauled that big ass pot outside and poured the water out. But now it seems like the smell reeks in the halls...or wherever I go. So I hardcore sprayed again in here and now I have a headache.

Random thoughts...

- T.G.I.F.
- Friday the 13th. Mwaaahahahaha.
- Oh yeah Vagina Monologues last nite with the immacers and wyse girls. That was fun. Go vagina warriors. Vagina-friendly!
- Thanx to Alisa for the foodrun u rock my world.
- HAPPY BIRTHDAY COUSIN BJAY!
- my mother just doesn't understand why her daughters do not wana have familytoime on valentines day

Have u ever had that feeling of frustration when you want something rilly bad but you know you can never get it? Or at least you know it will never want you back? Yes, "it."

So I came in work this morning and I guess I was early coz my boss wasnt there yet. So I was the first one in there, and right when I came in the room, it smelled like someone hardcore farted in there and just shut the door so that the smell wouldnt leave. So of course I didnt want people to think that it was my fart, so I bust out with my A&F 8 and sprayed it like there's no tomorrow. So I left for class but then later in the afternoon, I came back to work and the smell was back. I was all, dude why do people gotta fart in my office. Then I was all, man my boss farts hardcore. There was this hot dude who came in too and he was prolly thinking, man this girl is stankin up tha room. And then turns out its this big ass plant I've been trying to revive thats stinks. I've been watering it everyday now and iont think it's been taking in the water coz it looks like it's jus soaking in the water. So it jus smells like a sewer up in hur. Demn det plant. Maybe that's the reason why no one ever comes in this office. Man!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SUE! not today, but two days ago.

bless you kuya leo for visiting the sick =).

So I was all by myself in my apartment this weekend. That was funtimes. I usually freak myself out wen I'm alone in the apt, but this time I was too sick to care. Recap:

Friday:
- slept early coz I was too weak to stay up past midnite

Saturday:
- woke up and decided to go to the farmer's market to buy me some onions n potatoes for my corned beef.
- got back and cleaned the apt as usual. washed the dishes that has been sitting there for forever (yes I am weak when it comes to these things. I was gona wait till someone washes the them but I can't stand dirtyness), vacuumed vacuumed vacuumed, cleaned the kitchen, cleaned my room.
- cooked corned beef woohoo
- finally tried studying for econ but didnt really work
- study group at Pam's with David, Sopia, and Gil...did not work either
- Did not wana talk to some people coz of the pissiness
- got a fonecall from Mark saying him n Janice were gona come bug me
- SLEEPOVER! dude you guys made me stay up way past my bedtime. its all gud tho u guys rock.

Sunday
- church at 11. awww i missed everyone i havent seen for the longest toime
- commons...thanx to mark n janice for the swipes
- back in the apt tryin to study...major headache
- thanx to cristina for the coffee
- grammys and our horrible tv reception
- supposed to sleep early but couldnt...hence i still have the major headache

I don't think I'm ever gona get better. I think one day of sleep will do it. One whole day. Damn wen can that one day be?

So I've been sick for two weeks now. I refuse to go to the health center because it's too far and I don't have their insurance thing so that means I'd have to spend a lot if I go. Oh well, if I die then I die. It's all gud in da hood. At least I still have my sexay voice.

I haven't had anything exciting happen to me lately. I guess it's coz I've been m.i.a. and kinda anti because I'm too weak to go out n stuff. But good thing is I think I've got my priorities straight lately...rite roomie? I don't wana jinx it or anything, but I realized how I've been doing my school work more than last quarter. I guess I learned my lesson! It just sux sumtimes when you have to fall in order to rise back up again. I just hope I don't fall again this quarter.

Woops before I forget...HAPPY BIRTHDAY MEL!

More to come later...when I actually have a life to tell you guys about. Payce.

Here's a lil sumtin to read (from my roomie Alisa) that I thought I should put here.



THE ROOM
17-year-old Brian Moore had only a short time to write something for a class. The subject was what Heaven is like. "I wowed 'em," he later told his father, Bruce. "It's a killer. It's the bomb. It's the best thing I ever wrote." It also was his last.

Brian's parents had forgotten about the essay when a cousin found it while cleaning out the teenager's locker at Teays Valley High School in Pickaway County. Brian had been dead only hours, but his parents desperately wanted every piece of his life near them, notes from classmates and teachers, his homework.

Only two months before, he had handwritten the essay about encountering Jesus in a file room full of cards detailing every moment of the teen's life. But it was only after Brian's death that Beth and Bruce Moore realized hat their son had described his view of heaven. It makes such an impact that people want to share it. You feel like you are there." Mr. Moore said. Brian Moore died May 27, 1997, the day after Memorial Day. He was driving home from a friend's house when his car went off Bulen-Pierce Road in Pickaway County and struck a utility pole. He emerged from the wreck
unharmed but stepped on a downed power line and was electrocuted.

The Moores framed a copy of Brian's essay and hung it among the family portraits in the living room. "I think God used him to make a point. I think we were meant to find it and make something out of it, " Mrs. Moore said of the essay. She and her husband want to share their son's vision of life after death. "I'm happy for Brian. I know he's in heaven. I know I'll see him one day."

Brian's Essay:

The Room......

In that place between wakefulness and dreams, I found myself in the room. There were no distinguishing features except for the one wall covered with small index card files. They were like the ones in libraries that list titles by author or subject in alphabetical order. But these files, which stretched from floor to ceiling and seemingly endless in either direction, had very different headings.

As I drew near the wall of files, the first to catch my attention was one that read "Girls I have liked." I opened it and began flipping through the cards. I quickly shut it, shocked to realize that I recognized the names written on each one. And then without being told, I knew exactly where I was.

This lifeless room with its small files was a crude catalog system for my life. Here were written the actions of my every moment, big and small, in a detail my memory couldn't match.

A sense of wonder and curiosity, coupled with horror, stirred within me as I began randomly opening files and exploring their content. Some brought joy and sweet memories; others a sense of shame and regret so intense that I would look over my shoulder to see if anyone was watching.

A file named "Friends" was next to one marked "Friends I have betrayed." The titles ranged from the mundane to the outright weird. "Books I Have Read," "Lies I Have Told," "Comfort I have given," "Jokes I Have Laughed at." Some
were almost hilarious in their exactness: "Things I've yelled at my brothers." Others I couldn't laugh at: "Things I Have said in My Anger", "Things I Have Muttered Under My Breath at My Parents." I never ceased to be surprised by the contents.

Often there were many more cards than I expected. Sometimes fewer than I hoped. I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of the life I had lived. Could it be possible that I had the time in my years to fill each of these thousands or even millions of cards? But each card confirmed this truth. Each was written in my own handwriting. Each signed with my signature. When I pulled out the file marked "TV Shows I have watched , "I realized the files grew to contain their contents. The cards were packed tightly, and yet still after two or three yards, I hadn't found the end of the file. I shut
it, shamed, not so much by the quality of shows but more by the vast time I knew that file represented.

When I came to a file marked "Lustful Thoughts," I felt a chill run through my body. I pulled the file out only an inch, not willing to test its size, and drew out a card. I shuddered at its detailed content. I felt sick to think that such a moment had been recorded. An almost explosive rage broke on me. One thought dominated my mind: No one must ever see these cards!

No one must ever see this room! I have to destroy them!" In insane frenzy, I yanked the file out. Its size didn't matter now. I had to empty it and burn the cards!!! But as I took it at one end and began pounding it on the floor, I could not dislodge a single card. I became desperate and pulled out a card, only to find it as strong as steel when I tried to tear it.

Defeated and utterly helpless, I returned the file to its slot. Leaning my forehead against the wall, I let out a long, self-pitying sigh. And then, I saw it...... The title bore "People I Have Shared the Gospel With." The handle was brighter than those around it, newer, almost unused. I pulled on its handle and a small box not more than three inches long fell into my hands. I could count the cards it contained on one hand. And then the tears came. I began to weep. Sobs so deep that they hurt. They started in my stomach and shook through me. I fell on my knees and cried. I cried out of shame, from the overwhelming shame of it all.

The rows of file shelves swirled in my tear-filled eyes. No one must ever, ever know of this room. I must lock it up and hide the key. But then as I pushed away the tears, I saw Him. No, please not Him. Not here. Oh, anyone but Jesus. I watched helplessly as He began to open the files and read the cards. I couldn't bear to watch His response. And in the moments I could bring myself to look at His face, I saw a sorrow deeper than my own. He seemed to intuitively go to the worst boxes.

Why did He have to read every one? Finally He turned and looked at me from across the room. He looked at me with pity in His eyes. But this was a pity that didn't anger me. I dropped my head, covered my face with my hands and began to cry again. He walked over and put His arm around me. He could have said so many things. But He didn't say a word. He just cried with me. Then He got up and walked back to the wall of files. Starting at one end of the room, He took out a file and, one by one, began to sign His name over mine on each card.

"No!" I shouted rushing to Him. All I could find to say was "No, no," as I pulled the card from Him. His name shouldn't be on these cards. But there it was, written in red so rich, so dark, so alive. The name of Jesus covered mine. It was written with His blood. He gently took the card back. He smiled a sad smile and began to sign the cards.

I don't think I'll ever understand how He did it so quickly, but the next instant it seemed I heard Him close the last file and walk back to my side. He placed His hand on my shoulder and said, "It is finished." I stood up, and He led me out of the room. There was no lock on its door......

There are still cards in my life to be written. "I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." - Phil. 4:13 "For God so loved the world that He gave His only son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish but have
eternal life."

happy birthday to a fellow hbo...JANICE! do u heb some more cake? i like.