Category Archives: Crazy Collection

The Tragedy of the Cactus and the Rose

The cactus and the rose— are not they lovely?  Oh these pretty exotic plants.

The cactus and the rose look so ordinary, so conventional. And yet the more one stares at them, the more attractive they become. These wild plants possess in them beauty that is strikingly outlandish which makes one stop and drink their unpolished splendor.

Because who knows when they will come across another cactus or another rose? Even if they encountered another one, the passersby know that it will never be the same cactus or rose again. Hence whenever they meet one, they try to gaze at it longer than they would look at a daisy.

Both carry in them an elegance brought by their simplicity. It is the sophistication of their bizarreness that set the the cactus and the rose apart from other plants. The strangeness they have is what attracts strangers.

It is the same peculiarity that makes them want to own the cactus and the rose. But it is the same extraordinary distinctiveness which makes it impossible to hold a cactus and the rose. The unfamiliarity of the rose and the cactus which draws people is also the very thing that wears anyone out.

Cactus and rose grew thorns to protect themselves. It makes them wonderful to look at but not to touch. Yes, they prick—they pierce through the skin causing so much pain. But once one found the golden spot and has learned to tame the cactus and the rose it would be worth the suffering.

 

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Eros

I have been thinking of you ever since that Saturday when we first met, possibly our last as well.

I was mindlessly walking with my best guy pal while looking at displays in the department store. You were a few steps away from me when I caught a glimpse of you, placidly standing among the busy bodies. I only saw you in passing and my attention got caught with the movements of faceless souls in front of me.

I was a few meters away already when I croaked the words, “Wait”. [I don’t know where it came from; I just blurted it out unconsciously.]

I felt some magnet pulling me back, urging me to stop and glance at your direction for the second time. I did. I even retraced my step to get a better look of your perfectly chiseled face.

You blinked and I realized you weren’t a mannequin!

I gasped. There were sparks and fireworks all over the place. The surrounding suddenly became all too still, no movements, no noise. It was as if I was in a vacuum with you and you alone.

Believe me when I say you were radiating, in fact you were so bright that you could light the entire building– bright but not blinding.

From a good distant I secretly study your handsomely contoured face, your brunette gelled hair, your sexy brows, your tiny rosy pink lips, your cosmic latte skin and almost everything about you. Include the fact that you were dressed in that prince outfit of yours– it felt surreal, like I was in some dream that I didn’t want to end.

I breathed deeply and touched my face to make sure that I was blood and flesh– that it was true. It was.

I didn’t want to let that opportunity slip away. There, a few steps from where I was rooted, was the man who embodies all the physical qualities of the ideal guy in my head.

Courage from insanity took over me. I know it was crazy to ask for a picture with you yet I dismissed logic and let the heart took over.

I decided to take a chance. I approached you and the guy you were with who has some resemblance with Zayn Malik. I find him more friendly and extroverted compared to you because he was the one I had a small chat with whilst you were silently standing on my left.

We took four pictures with the guy whose features are similar to Zayn. He was smiling and laughing as we take the photos. You, on the other hand, weren’t making the slightest sound.

Even though you weren’t talking, it electrified me when you put your hand on my left shoulder. I liked your touch– I felt the masculinity in it yet it was light and not frightening, soothing rather. I wanted your hand to remain where it was, but you took it back and locked it with your left hand in front of your navel.

It ended there–four photographs and a ‘thank you’ as you remained standing quietly.

As I went over the pictures in my phone, I was surprised to see that you were actually standing closer than I thought you were. I realized that I was taking too much space beside Zayn guy, and there was this huge gap between you and me which you were trying to fill in by leaning close to me. I also discovered in the other pictures that your face was resting on my head and was actually in contact with my hair. [It was a good thing that I just came out of the salon and my hair smelled like honey].

I couldn’t get you out of my head since that incident. You are running in my mind day and night.

I feel stupid for not asking your name. I don’t know what this feeling is, but I sure am attracted to you– my nameless guy.

The experience was brief but I am sure that what I felt that time when our destinies collided was something more than simple joy. It was nothing of equivalence, a ‘real moment’. It was nothing of a manufactured Hollywood bullshit– everything about it was genuine.

Your manifestation in front of me made all my friends’ claims invalid. They all believe that there is no such man who is the way I imagined. I am happy to have found someone who fits in my concept of an ‘ideal guy’– you. You affirmed the existence of the man in my head–now, the guy of make believe is not just a figment of my mind. What is painful however, is the fact that even though you exist in reality, having you is near to impossible.

 If one day our paths cross again, I hope somehow you remember the insane girl in the mall who drowned in your perfection.

I have drowned and still I thirst for you. This silly desire for you will pass but your features and your countenance are already engraved in my memory.

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Confession Session

I can’t keep a secret, not even mine! That is why I always need a journal or a blog to confide with.

People surrounding me usually look at me as the high profile lady, the unattainable smart-ass little girl, the adorable geek and the classy substantial female. They all perceive me as an optimistic lass, a hard to please chic, and a good decision maker. They see me as an open book with nice yellow cover and a smiling angelic face printed on it. I hate to pop their bubble so I remain as the miss goodie-goodie that I am not.

All of this is me yet just a façade.

It won’t be the first time that someone will say, “You know I have a dirty dark secret that no one truly knows and I have kept it to myself all this time”. [Okay, it’s not that I killed anyone but yes for me this is a huge secret]. There are many things I hide from the penetrating eyes of the public that I am not comfortable to divulge. Yes, I might seem like the “tell-it-all-girl” but really I never was. I am very talkative, sure. However when it comes to thoughts, dreams, desires and a whole lot more, I keep my mouth shut.

So yeah, what people usually see is just the front of the house.

I am the responsible student who walks down the street just like any other college girls. Sometimes I am lost in contemplation about deep thoughts from Philosophy class and sometimes I am absorbed reflecting on how my day went about. I love my brother and my parents, I’m pretty sure I play my part in the family well. As a friend I am damn sure that I give time and attention to all my friends, most especially I remain true and less secretive with my bestrfriend practically sharing most of everything to her (though of course there are a bunch I keep to myself).

It’s not everything I am.

I do cut classes. Sometimes I do it in order to utilize the time for other requirements and meet deadlines, most of the time I do it just because I don’t feel like attending the class and would be happier using the time to get some sleep. I value education and learning yet there are just moments when the devil in me will suddenly over power my nice side.

I’m vain but I don’t show it. I don’t have the best skin nor do I have the prettiest face but I feel comfortable about it. I do feel pretty in my own and I flatter myself in front of the mirror. When no one’s looking or when everyone’s out of earshot I give extemporaneous speeches like I am a key note speaker in a huge conference with a bunch of eager listeners.

I fantasize. Gosh. This is the one of the worst secret in my treasure chest of what-not-to-tell-the-world. I fantasize not just about my future dreams and goals. I am also a college student with hormones surging in my system; hence, during my spare time my mind goes imaginative and travels to the land of lust where I picture myself with attractive alpha males from school or from those literary masterpieces I read. In my head I craft my story with Mr. Christian Grey and sometimes I think how it feels like under Adam Levine. [Now I judge myself]

I masturbate. The image that is being transmitted here is a petite girl lying naked on her bed with a vibrating toy that she inserts in her sex while moaning and resonating sound of pleasures from “ooh” to “ahhh”. NO. It’s not like that. When my housemates are out and I’m sure that I am on my own I lock my room to watch some porn. I watch couples copulating and I am pretty impressed at how big the male weapon is as well as how it fits inside the female genitalia. I am not dumb that the people in the video are just acting and giving out those sounds of pleasure when some of them aren’t really reaching nirvana. Most actors and actresses are overacting yet every time I watch such videos I kind of get fascinated with the different styles and positions they do much more when I see them reach the zenith of their act since I neither experienced nor tried it. [Oh yes, I am an NBSB so no questions need to be raised. I am a total V]. I wonder how it felt getting in the climax and whether all who had been at the capstone of the erotic act looked like how porn portrays them. Sometimes I watch at some girls playing on their own. I do such things which well I find delirious yet still satisfying for the eyes.

Sometimes it’s not through videos that I do it, when I am silently sitting in one corner I pretend to read for my homework when in fact I am secretly reading graphic novels which I downloaded. Whether I get busy with porn or read erotic novels I surely get as wet as those I watch or the ones being described by whatever book I am reading on my screen. Believe it or not there are so many things happening inside my body, I squirm and gasped as noiseless as possible. After every video or every page I can feel the wet liquid rushing down from me (yes, I get stimulated by the very act of reading and just looking. I don’t even touch myself or even tried to. This I swear.) And then I find myself changing panties and throwing them in the laundry bin because my freshly worn one’s already soaking in my own juice and I am dripping wet.

So damn yeah I call it using the word masturbation when I am not sure that it can be qualified as one. But by my very definition of the word as having pleasure and getting all high in silent desolation on my own, it is considered one.

Gosh. Why did I blurt it out?

I just want to say that I am not miss teen angel and that I am far from it. I don’t want to be vulgar about the things I do behind closed door, behind the shadows of the night– unfortunately or fortunately I just did. It is much easier to lay down everything in here than to open all these secrets to those who personally know me and would surely give me a stare I can never take.

I just spilled my bad beans. So what? People judge each other everyday anyway and it’s better to be judged by those I don’t really have personal ties with. Besides, no one will search the world trying to find the crazy stupid girl named Max.

My point is… all little angels have a beast in them that secretly lurks behind their awesomeness. It has been there ever since forever just looking for an opportunity to bite.

The truth is, I am just procrastinating for the very reason that I do not have the drive to study yet for my Philosophy exam on Tuesday. I am so stubborn to read the argument of Marion regarding the ontological argument. On the other hand, I am on the hundred first page of this book called “Rule” which is giving me all this guilty pleasure.

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Oh! The Things I Do

What is the point of living if everyone will just follow the usual trajectory that the first human beings had set forth?

[I’m not here to take the same path. I am here to make my own– the crazy things are part of it.]

I may not be the first to have done such insane moves, but I want to believe that I am one of those few. I like to think that I am an adventurer and an explorer, that’s why I try to do things that might sound absurd and ridiculous for the most number of people.

For others, I don’t know what their opinion is about the strange things I do. I don’t care anyway.

[Strange? Who is strange?]

Back in May of 2009, before I officially got to become a senior in high school, I attended a summer camp composed of youth from different regions of the country.  Young leaders of different ages from high school up until college level were gathered in B*****, a place with a cold weather despite the summer season. The main agenda of that summer camp was to talk about the environment.

It wasn’t really much for a summer camp. However, because of one foolish idea it became such a piece of treasure in my crazy collections.

I got to meet a lot of other young student leaders from different walks of life in that summer camp. But most of all, I got to enjoy looking at fresh, young, handsome faces. It’s a talent that I am blessed with– spotting the hot guys. My friends often say that it’s like I have a sensor whenever there are beautiful gents around, I can easily spot where they are. A natural tracker I am.

Inside the hall where everybody was having a good time with the game the group was playing, Anne and I were busy finding our way to the stairs. We were supposed to be going to where our friends were– upstairs. On our way up, there was this really cute guy with a radiant smile walking on the opposite direction. I was so captivated of course, so I asked Anne to come with me and follow the guy back down.

She said I was crazy.

We were just following the guy, last thing I know we were standing in front of a group of handsome men. The tall white guy, Bryan his name was, captured my attention. For me he stood out from the rest of them.

I was 15 and nuts. I guess my hormones just rushed in my system and whispered in my ears, ‘jump into it’! I pulled Anne’s arm and said, “I want to kiss him”. Her only reply was, “Wait. You’re crazy!”

I walked towards Bryan, flashed the best smile I could manage and delivered my request in the most charming way possible [*blink. + another blink. + puppy dog eyes. = magic*], “Hi! Can I kiss you?” I know it sounds pathetic but that’s how it happened. He was taken aback, I remember him revealing his porcelain white teeth and pausing for a moment.

Well, he’s a nice guy. He bent forward [he’s pretty tall] for me to be able to reach his face. Still keeping his smile, he moved a little closer and the last thing I know was his cheek was already in front of me saying hello. Filled with erratic excitement I rested my lips on that soft flesh.

Oh gosh! I just kissed a random stranger!

He has a name and I know it, yet the chances that our paths might cross again is really slim. We don’t have communication nor did I bother to get in contact with him. The first and last conversation we had was when I asked his name and I stole that one kiss from him.

So yes, I kissed a total stranger. 

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The Crime We Committed on Friday Night

Crazy pot heads.

On Friday (July 5) night I asked Kevin, Emman and Mikee to join me for a jog. Mikee wasn’t able to run with us aroung the university at 8:30 in the evening because her org meeting ended later than the time she expected it will be finished. So it was just Kevin, Emman, Stephen (our ex-blockmate who Emman and Kevin pulled from the dorm) and I who spent an hour jogging and walking.

Our night did not end with getting sweaty and exercising. Of course it had to end with a bang.

We are already on our senior year and what better way to enjoy it is to break the rules and do some crazy things. The library was already closed and there were no guards in that area of the campus, I wonder where they went that night because usually there are guards patrolling every night. Hence, a crazy idea came to us.

Play and wade in the water of the fountain outside the library. And we did!

Funny how Kevin didn’t want to get into the water at first because according to him we might get caught and it might prevent us from graduating. But because we insisted he joined us in the water and (hooray!) we did it! haha.

The other thing we do was, on our way out of the university Kevin rolled down his window (the air conditioner got broken) and I suggested that we shout our hearts out in unison. In the count of three the cold breeze harmonized with our voices.

The feeling was awesome.

The five kilometer jog made us all hungry. We ended up in KFC eating a sinful meal. Haha.

A night of jogging wasted in fastfood.

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