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So what has been up with me?

This coming Saturday I will be rehearsing with our Church’s band the songs to be performed this coming Sunday and the repertoire are as follows:

Come Now I s The Time To Worship (D)
Hear Our Praises (A)
Blessed Be Your Name (A)
We Worship You (C or D) ... edited
I Worship You Almighty God (G)
Oceans Will Part (B)
Shout To The Lord (chorus only) (B)

The letters indicate the key signatures of the song. If you’re a musician, you pretty much know what key signature means. Surprisingly, there are seven (7) songs, but I don’t mind; more songs, more time to shine, more opportunities to play for God. My issue regarding this is, even if I have heard almost all of the songs, I’ve only managed to come up of violin riffs for one song, and that is Come, Now Is The Time To Worship, argh! 6 more…but I guess I have the entire Saturday to rehearse and come up of riffs, ay it’s better than riffs, parang violin mini solos, which don’t become mini once I belt them.

Tonight, probably after my exercise, I’d have to finalize on the things I’ve practiced, apart from what I plan to come up for the other songs. I wonder what kind of influence should I bring in? Français a la Larusso? François a la Midnight Garden by Bond? Pachelbel? I guess it depends…who knows, it could be Tchaikovsky or Astor Piazzola, you never know, it just pops like a bubble.

Another thing that has been me is that I am currently bidding for this sportswear top and the bid is at Php1,160.00, courtesy of moi and this lhordpaolo guy in multiply. See, the said auctioned apparel was already bought but by a sudden change of thought, the original buyer backed out, therefore, the seller planned to auction the item and…as they say, the rest is history, online history. If ever I do win the auction, I’ll post here the picture of the outfit, and hopefully I can get it before Sunday because, of course I wanna wear it, styling would come much later, knowing me, I could probably pull of a Bottega Veneta look or Miu Miu feel or those overrated Asian fashion trend, which doesn’t suit my taste either. Anyways, I guess I need research on how to make something sporty chic; like something Miu Miu into something Michael Kors, or Bottega Veneta, actually Miu Miu IS sporty chic.

This bidding kind of reminded me of this financial, or rather economic term called “asymmetric information”. It means one party knows more than the other and he uses that to his advantage. For instance, in stocks, there are numerous stock brokers bidding for the price of one stock. As usual, the highest bidder gets the stock, the seller gets the most profit out of that. Now, let’s go into the anatomy of bidding; first of all, before any bidding takes place, one has to ascertain the quality of what he is bidding; what makes this thing so unique that you’d place a sum of money over its head (figuratively) and so on. When that is identified, further information is searched for so to bolster that quality’s je ne sais quoi-esque feature.

Ah fudge…why am I alluding finance once again? Let me use this predicament as an example: I like the piece, it’s chic to a certain extent and sporty (but ain’t Michael Kors) and when you normally see these kinds of apparels, their price ranges from Php2K-Php3K, and they’re not even French Connection, nor Armani Exchange. Since the starting bid was at Php480, which ballooned to Php1,160 because of me and lhordpaolo guy thankyouverymuch, I guess you can say that we know certain qualities about this top that we think is valuable enough, that we bid it at such Eiffel Tower-esque prices.

You can also say we’re just too desperate to find chic clothing at cheap prices (Cheap and Chic Moschino? Ahahahahaha). You can also surmise that we’re just caught up in the hype of bidding, this ain’t even close to Marc Jacobs, and I’d rather spend my cash on Marc’s than this…

Anyways, I realized I’m not into finance anymore, I want to bid Finance, au revoir, adieu, and where to hello? I don’t know…fashion? Well, the closest I can get to fashion is through retailing, it’s not like it’s a walk in the park when you want to become a fashion editor, even something subordinate to that. I guess making a career in finance is out of the question, I should resign yes? I don’t even bother to read anything about finance, the word is like a cuss to me now, ugh!

I am into reading the Cut Blog in New York Magazine website. Their posts are great, from The Hills (eww) to Paris Haute Couture Fashion Shows (aah). I love it actually, but I didn’t read their entry on this reality show The Hills. I am not interested in that, some reality stars wanting to perpetuate their fame by doing fashion, which is a complete abhorrence to the field. Lauren Conrad released her own line, very department store-ish but priced kinda like Gucci. Heidi Montag has her own line too, affordable compared to Lauren’s but it’s slutty all animal prints, at least Lauren’s isn’t Stella McCartney circa 2002 (her own line). If Stella McCartney became a hit after improving her hoe-ish playboy obscene debut, lackluster Lauren can do something better, oh wait?! Stella studied fashion (ergo, she has a degree) Lauren studied Academy of Art University for 5-6…months, then transferred to Fashion Institute of Design & Merchandising. Stella became Chloé’s chief designer from March 1997 to 2001, Lauren interned at Teen Vogue for a year. Hmm…so who’s better, Lauren or Heidi Montag, as if this question was worth raising (though I’m routing for Lauren, Heidi Montag just proliferated the sleaze animal prints have, sluts are never fashionable, not even in Dolce Gabbana’s (look) book). Forgive the digression of thoughts but yes, the Cut Blog is amazing.

Well that has been me, adieu finance, bonjour façon (fashion).
After rehearsals tomorrow I’m planning to play the arcade, Soul Calibre and Samurai Shodown…whew! They’re cool! I finished those games! I like Kilik and Seung Mina though in Soul Calibre, their weapon (guan dao and staff, respectively) is good for middle-range attacks. Ivy’s snake sword is cool too, if you know how to use it. In Samurai Shodown I used Mina because she’s an archer (I am too – DLSU?) and her attacks are really good, for long-range attacks. I was able to beat that stupid Sankuro Yorozu, wielding a huge mallet as his weapon which really takes a lot of your life point when you get hit by it. Charlotte’s pretty cool too, she’s French, you know, Couture and stuff, but she’s more Joan of Arc than haute couture model. Her style is fencing, her rapier is cool. Ukyo Tachibana rocks too, very Battousai, his iaijutsu technique is so model-esque.

That's it for me, Ciao!

The Unspoken

I met you last Friday, in your place, a faraway place from my own home. I took the risk of going to a stranger's domicile, thinking of all the harm possible enough to be inflicted by any know person. It took me some time to get to your place, because I didn't know where you lived, you're supposed to fetch me, which you did, and which I am grateful. The trip was long, contrary to what you told me that it is a 40 minute travel, it took me almost an hour.

When we had that rendezvous, my mind was racing..

"will you show up?"

"if you see me, will you still meet me, even if I don't look like a male supermodel, or even a cute celebrity?"

"will you ditch me, when you see me? leaving me all alone in front of that university?"

BUT YOU DIDN'T. FOR WHICH I AM THANKFUL, BUT I WILL BUTCHER YOU IF YOU DID

You took me to your home, a small, crowded place you call your second home. You told me it was a mess, it was, but it was cleaner compared to my room, which doubles as our house's utility room. I am not the kind of person who would complain whether there's aircon or whether the interior design was inspired by that of Armani, Versace or even Missoni. No, I appreciate that comes my way, whether it was something I'm "accustomed" to or not.

When you took me in, my eyes went towards you, how much I wanted to hug you, how I missed you, after those times you did not even respond to my messages. I asked you why you weren't replying to my messages, you said you were busy. I can see that, because I saw that you were working on your paper for you Law classes. I hope you become a lawyer someday, if that's what the program you enrolled promised, a chance to take the Bar Exams. Then you closed the file, saved it in a flash disk, then in a compact disk because you're flash disk is more reliable than a condom with holes as big as an ant's bite. And then you asked me to tell a story, anything I wanted to tell, you said.

I couldn't think of anything, but our glances always crossed, I know you want to tell me something, your body language tells it. I know you wanted to make love with me, but you couldn't tell me directly. You looked so cute subtly throwing cues like that, I'd have to say they were subtle, and I liked it. This is the first time I would make love, not have sex, there's a world of a difference, despite the similarity of execution. Before we did it, I wanted to tell you how much I love you, even if this is the first time I saw you, and despite the fact we've been chatting before Jeffrey came in the picture. I love you, my Italian-named friend.

I want to say sorry that I didn't take the cue, because to be honest, it croses my mind that meeting you means there's a possibility that we would have sex, or in this case we would make love, sweet love. I wanted to make love because I love you, I love everything about you, even if you don't look like Tyson Ballou, Andrew Cooper, Noah Mills, Will Chalker, Brad Kroenig, or even James Franco, Hayden Christensen, Michael Copon, nor Josh Hartnett. I love you, so much that it was hard for me to have sex with you, but I conditioned myself to make love, in lieu of having sex.

We made love, to be honest that was ok with me, as I'm always ready, but I couldn't bring myself to have sex with you, as you were too special for a one night stand. You're not a Dolce Gabbana fucker, you're more special than that. You were someone I would make love when the right time comes, but it happened last Friday, not to say you became less special than I originally perceived you. You will always be special to me, mroe special than Leon and that stupid Pasigueño prick. I love you remember?

After that we had a little talk, about how I beat you because I shot my juice higher than yours, I just said I'm excited to do it (make love to you). I mean that as a complement, not desperation for sexual satiation. A more pressing finding, I wanted to say I love you, but something holds me back. Do you love me? Much more, if not as much as I do? Maybe that's too much for you, but I couldn't say it, probably because I was missing you, thinking it was just me missing you rather than something as profound as love.

Around 9pm we left your place and you accompanied me to this place where vehicles taking me near to my home. While we were walking you told me how tired I was. I was not tired. Maybe I am, may because we made love? Of course, making love can be exhausting. While we were walking I wanted to hold your hand, while we're crossing the roads, sauntering street after street, I wanted so much to feel your hand hold my hand, because I miss you, because I love you, because I want to be with you, because in you I find solace, but you don't want that, at least in public because you'd get embarrased, that's OK, I'm a private person myself.

You stayed with me until I got to ride an FX, for that I thank you. I could've waited for the FX myself, I appreciate that, but maybe you're thinking I'm too weak to travel alone, too incapable of even waiting for an FX, I can. It's an excuse to see you for the time being, I know you're busy, and I don't want to take up much of your time, you have classes the next day. But thank you, I finally meet you, we made love, even if I couldn't tell you how much I loved you, how much I waited for this day to come. I hope you love me too, because I do.