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I think I found the perfect way to explain it.

The Alchemy Between Us - Young Galaxy

Amid the cold lines of the city
lay down your head
to quiet all the sadness
to feel what's possible instead
your grace

I think I found the perfect way
to explain it
close your eyes and
move within the alchemy between us.


So many things to do..

I'm in denial that school starts again in a week. Before I get my festive spirit back on again for New Year, I better do something productive otherwise I'm dead meat.

Yes, Philo150 and CW130, I'm looking at you.


A candycane gram!

(1) Mean Girls is the Best. Movie. Ever.
(2) I've always wanted to do this number with my blockmates because
(3) we've practically memorized the whole dance
(4) even all the lines actually
(5) So yeah.
(6) Ohmygod is this social suicide?
(7) I hope not. I love The Plastics. Haha.
(8) Off to re-watch this movie again.
(9) I hope your Christmas turns out to be sooo fetch!
(10) Happy holidays!


Tap on my window, knock on my door.

On the car stereo. Outside my bedroom window. Alone at night downstairs. At two o'clock in the morning on MTV. On shuffle mode. In the backseat. On my ride to school. In the shower. In between the sheets. Inside my head. While tangled up in you.

It doesn't really go away, this song. How it lingers in my head long after the last note has been played, how it adores me despite no mention of my name. How it drives for miles and miles and winds up at my door. How you've made it ring true after endless playbacks. How you know where I hide, how you want to make me feel beautiful. How it's so much like you.

I've had you so many times but somehow I want more.


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Oh hi blog, I almost forgot about you.

My apologies for not feeling like writing anything coherent for the last week (and even today). Writers always get these big, huge blocks that stand in the way and sometimes we don't even feel like wanting to take them on.

Right now, I am in trying to answer my Philo150 midterm exam. Operative word: trying. On the first day of Christmas vacation. Because I have so many other things to finish for the other subjects I can't afford to not do this one today. Professors never fully grasp the meaning of a vacation. Or maybe they do but they just choose not to. To torment us. Ah, UP.



It's surprising how one can be capable of letting it all go with just a hello.


The places you have come to fear the most.*

I can't even begin to explain how alienated I feel as I sit on this bed I've been calling my refuge for the last two years or so. For a great part of every semester, this place is home more than our actual house in Paranaque is. I go home every Friday to my parents, yes, and that is something I look forward to every week. But something about this small, little room along Katipunan keeps me warm, that makes me feel safe, that sustains my creativity, that calms my senses at the height of my apprehensions. True, it took me a while to adjust to it. But once I did, it was like finally discovering the palatability of vegetables: it was acquired taste, but soon I cannot imagine life without it. It's essential, it's home.

And now I look at this place, and I have to ask myself, how could it transform in such a short span of time? Of course the apparent change is Inna's departure, and that probably accounts for more than half of this estrangement I'm feeling. But more than that, the subtle, tiny little changes that have happened: the death of the dorm's owner (and our "lolo" in Katipunan), the replacement of bulletin board pictures, the rearrangement of study areas, the sudden leaving of the friendly guards -- looking at them individually seems so inconsequential. But putting them all together just makes this place feel entirely, completely different.

I'm supposed to feel at home here. And quite frankly, I really used to. But now, being stuck inside four walls with someone I do not know, having to stay in a place that is slowly isolating me, it's really difficult. It's hard to be grown-up about this when it's something so inescapable -- how can I deal with a place I cannot leave? It's not like I can go anywhere else. I don't know, I just really feel like a stranger to this place again.

I just really want to curl up in bed because it's cozy and warm and it makes me feel better, not because I have nothing else to do but to wait for Fridays to come.


* Listening to the Dashboard Confessional song with the same title. Thank God for songs that come to you when you need them most.


Things to smile about.

When one professor constantly berates your work, referring to them as "trash" and calling everyone in class "lazy," it's difficult to find something right away to push you and do better. I know, it's something I should be used to right now. CW requires a gut made of steel: you have to be able to take criticism graciously at all times, no matter how subtle or harsh they may be. I've had my fair share of negative critiques from classmates and teachers, even friends and strangers, and I can say that I've pretty much taken them all in stride. But there are times when the severity of the words just really get to me no matter how tough I want to be, and at the end of the day I end up feeling really frustrated about myself, wondering what the hell I am doing in this course. This week just happens to fall under that category.

But surprisingly, fate found a way of turning this week up on its head. Another work of mine got published in a different online zine, New-Slang! It was a piece of nonfiction I wrote way back in August which I actually posted here in my blog called "An Ode To The Pillow Book," my own take on Sei Shonagon's work. I was inspired by our CL115 class last semester that I decided to do it for myself, and because it turned out to be so personal, I chose not to submit it for one of our class projects, fearing that having it "graded" would somehow lessen its value. Having other people acknowledge it as a decent piece of art just makes me so happy and excited.

Two pieces published in one week -- I am at a complete loss of words. I know it's not much, but it's definitely something. It's enough to make me feel like I don't completely suck at what I do, which is what I really need right now. My head is still reeling from all this; I still can't believe it! :) I hope you guys do check it out. :)


I am a sort-of published writer now?

Dear Karla,

Your recent submission to Teen Ink has been posted on Teen Ink, our website of teen-generated poetry, fiction, articles, reviews, opinions, artwork, and more. Teen Ink allows you and others to rate work, provide feedback, and share stories with friends and family.

On our website, the highest-rated stories in each section are prominently displayed on the home page and elsewhere. Your work could be among them, so vote often and send the link to your friends and family and ask them to vote too. (Up to one vote per article per day.)

That was an email I got from TeenInk just this morning.

I am beyond ecstatic about this, really. The story I wrote just a few days ago was something I did in like ten minutes, it was really one of those surprising, random bouts of "creativity" (aka sleeplessness). I just thought of submitting it somewhere because it might seem like fun. It was something on the fly, I didn't really think anything would happen about it. It's funny how this surprises me at a time when I'm really, seriously doubting my writing (insert insecurities -- acads are suddenly pressuring me right now) to give me something to smile about :)

Actually, I noticed the website got the time wrong (5 minutes lang yung nakalagay hindi 10!) but nonetheless, IT'S OUT THERE! :) Please help me and vote for it if you like it; as the email they sent me said, the more votes it gets the higher chances of it being on their homepage and on the actual magazine are.

Click here to vote for it.

I am hyperventilating as I type. Kthxbye. :">



It's funny how hugely different we are: I see the world through imageries and climaxes, not tension and mechanics. You stare directly at the road ahead of you, my gaze drifts about from the cars to the sky. I see the poetry in detail, you see the formula. It doesn't add up. It couldn't work out. It shouldn't mesh well. It won't go together. I am metaphor and you are science.

But, literature has the oxymoron and physics has magnetism.