I Want You

I want you to look at me from across the room with an eye of a hunter. Eagerly observing, slowing attacking.  I want you to smoke of whispered secrets and sip cups of harsh truths. I want you to know how to play ‘the game’. I want you to sweep me off my feet not in words but with actions. I want you to speak of sonnets and symphonies. I want you to stop and smell the roses and remember the nights we’ve had together. I want you to send me handwritten letters in a form of a poem, a prose or anything you are comfortable with. I want you to paint me your dreams, with or without me in it. I want to laugh at your frustration when you don’t get my lips just right. I want you to string together little pieces of the little things that I wouldn’t remember. I want you to climb in and out of my window. I want your groggy face next to mine on a Sunday morning. I want your worries to leave and your scent to stay on my sheets. I want your mornings in my place and my evenings at yours. I want your hands to run slowly down the gaps of my spine or the hollows of my ribs. I want you to kiss me on the parts where I’m most insecure of – my thighs, my core, my collar bones. I want you in pieces, in halves, in a whole. Never mind that, I want you. I want all of you.

 

Five Dealbreakers

1. You can’t hold a good conversation – If the only thing you talk about is yourself and other people, then I’m sorry it’s not going to work out with me (unless you’re Zac Efron, I could give a consideration). The thing is, most guys I met are way too focused on looking ‘cool’ and having a ‘name’, and they completely forget the fact that I’m dozing off on the dinner table. I don’t want to know how you went para-sailing in Ibiza on the summer of ’06, or how many bottles of Dom Perignon you drank on a Tuesday night or how your dad was featured on Time Magazine for being the 98th richest man in the world. I’ve heard enough crap to last me a lifetime, I don’t need any of yours. How hard can it be to just switch off that ‘impress a girl’ button, talk about ‘normal’ things and actually impress a girl? If a man with intelligence is not sexy, then I don’t know what is.

2. You’re choking me – Let me say this clearly, I can’t be there for you 24/7. I can’t give up my 10-minute break to call you and say I’m having a break and I’m going to this place and this is what happened 5 minutes ago and then answer your call again in 5 minutes. You see, I got more things to do than text/call you every second just to say who I’m with at this very second and where I am. I know you’re ‘concerned’ but give me some time for myself where I can do anything I can without having to remember to reply to your ‘What are you doing’ text every 5 minutes.

3. You’re rude to everyone but me – It’s one thing to hold the door for me and another to diss the waiter for giving you the wrong table when you specially asked the one in the balcony. If you can’t even say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ to that waiter, then I’m sorry, you can’t expect me to stay for dessert.

4. You listen to bad music – I didn’t want to put this in because I didn’t want to stereotype (and I’m really not doing so) but it had to be done. If you only listen to overplayed-radio songs and think they are ‘the best in the world’ then I’m sincerely sorry, this thing between us couldn’t happen. I judge people by the music they listen to, not because the songs they listen to tells about who they are but because the music they listen to speaks their mind. If ‘as long as you love me, we could be starving’ seems better to you than ‘Come doused in mud, soaked in bleach, As I want you to be’ then I don’t think we would work out.

5. You’re not funny – You’re smart, charming, really kind and you even listen to Bon Iver, why is there something missing? I mean, you’re perfect! No really, you are! Oh wait, you can’t make me laugh. People, if there’s one thing I want in a man that is for him to make me laugh at all the things I never thought I could and laugh at the things we wish we could (like that 2-century ago breakup). He could be a jerk or a metal-head or even an obsessive stalker, but if he knows the way into my funny bones, he surely gets it. Because, contradicting to that statement I made, nothing is sexier than a man with a sense of humor.

 

Don’t Fall in Love with Me

Don’t fall in love with me as a writer. Fall in love with me as a person and not my written language.

Don’t fall in love with the stories I tell. Fall in love with the words coming out of my mouth and not the ones on my hand.

Don’t fall in love with me with the words from my mouth. I am not good in saying what I really mean to say. Fall in love with my unsaid thoughts.

Don’t fall in love with my thoughts. My mind is packed with words I could not fit in a sentence. Fall in love with me a person.

Don’t fall in love with me as person. I am nothing but a nutshell in another nutshell wanting to get out from something I’m tied to. I am complicated and simple at the same time. I am failure at something I’m successful at. I am uncomfortable with forced limerence and terrified of familiarity. I am a cracked shell on a dead snail, just waiting. Always waiting.

Don’t fall in love with me, it’s not going to end well.

We are the Stars

We are the little specks of dust that formed under the sky. In darkness, we light the way. In brightness, we ease the rays. Every move is a waterfall to each embodiment. Every strike is a point to the universe. Separated or together, we are connected in ways we don’t realize. I turn to the left, you turn to the right in exact speed and distance. I take a step, you move backward. Our energy strings melodies and lyrics together. Our gas settles on light as security. And our shine is every man’s dream. We may fall but we are important. We are the stars.

Let’s Skip to the Good Part

Can we be 27 year olds lying in bed and remembering the first time we went out as couple, 10 years ago? We’d be in our pajamas, shirts or undies, sipping on a cheap bottle of wine with a pirated DVD of a movie we used to watch over and over. You lay comfortably in bed as my head rests, filling the gaps of my head to your chest. You would smoke a fire of something we both are familiar of. I would read a book you would not need eyes to know the title of. The smell of your unwashed hair is not foreign to me anymore, nor the fogginess of my face after I wash my makeup off at night. The meals are shared for two, and not less. You know how I like my omelette is done while I know exactly what playlist to put on on weekend night ins. We’d have schedules for whose turn it is to throw the garbage out, and the plans are never for one or in separate. In bars, we know the drink we want and what kind of stare means we’re going. No toothbrushes will be a cause of shock to anyone because we share the bathrooms. And so does the rest of the apartment. And soon enough, we’ll busy building our home and wont even bother to keep track of the months and years.

 

An Apology

Not that you would really care, but here’s my attempt on roses, chocolates and cheesy love letters.

Ever Dearest Readers,

It’s been a while since I wrote to you. Actually, it’s been almost two months. It’s not that I didn’t want to. Seriously, I’ve been scramming my walls and nailing my head to finally make out a verdict that never happened, until now. I wish I could say I’ve been too busy with school works, extra-curricular activities and other productive events but I’m not. In two months, I have only been eating, drinking, sleeping, punishing myself for that bar of chocolate, contemplating my future, more drinking and more eating. Not exactly what I was aiming for.

Look at where those two months flew by. Gone. By the wind. Just like that movie. Yes.

You see, I thought in two months I would have accomplished something I would reward myself with a bottle of whiskey for. In two months, I could have written 8 blog posts if I did one per week and not have to write this silly apology letter to you. I could have lost a minimum of 15 lbs. if I only stick to Insanity Workout. I could have run 10 miles just around my neighborhood for an hour everyday. I could have aced all my classes if I worked hard enough to pass homework, attend all lectures and ravishingly study for major exams.  But yet again, laziness and Katrina were such a team. We’re inseparable.

However, carrying all those regrets on my shoulders could only take me a minute slower than how fast I should be going. So, I’m gonna leave that all behind. Those regrets, disappointments, heartbreaks and everything else. I hope you, my dear readers, would do the same. Let’s forget my absence and rejoice for I have returned. Drink to that! Seriously. No actually, put that vodka down. NOW.

Anyway, I didn’t mean to be such an emo in this letter. I don’t mean to make you feel pity for me. I’m okay. I really am. All I wanted to discuss in this long overdue letter was that I was being a lazy bitch but I’m still going to keep this blog up and see where my laziness will take me.

Much love,

Katrina L.

Looking Back

In 2012, I…

  • Finally(!!!) found the course I’m contented and happy with, with the people I enjoy and help me get through each day of worthless piles of homework and stress
  • blew 18 candles and hoped for the best
  • sorted out what I want to do after finishing school
  • kept my mindset about it
  • LIFEDANCE 2012. I don’t even have to say much about it
  • wore the annoying, shitty pin block (mouth piece/Max na red, as some of my friends call it) for 6 months
  • balled my eyes out because I HAD to wear braces
  • got worried and sad over stupid things
  • was rushed to the emergency room for the first time in my life (nothing serious, just hyper-acidity)
  • went cliff diving for the first time
  • road trip with friends (Moalboal and Medellin)
  • tried Zipline for the first time (!!!)
  • and ATV
  • and horse back riding
  • and caving
  • started a fashion blog
  • and failed, miserably
  • reached  18,000 views on THIS blog (Thank you very much, readers!)
  • got hired for my first job (writing job, online)
  • was a lot more social in real life and online
  • had my first, embarrassing, photo shoot (and I sucked so bad at it)
  • started watercolor painting (I sucked at it too)
  • tried out my singing career in the karaoke (I still suck)
  • survived December 21, 2012… that didn’t happen
  • half wishing 12/21/12 happened
  • actually did something I am happy with

I may have acute Alzheimer’s disease because that’s all I can remember for now. Just bear with me and help me find a cure.