This blog records the growth of my hair. 
Scroll down to the blog post "WIPE THE BLOOD", where everyone thought my hair looked long (and take note of the picture).
My hair has grown that long since June 25. Woooh.
Poor Php 50 bill.
Kenny and I defied authority during our Colon escapades earlier.
He commented at first "Ngano man nang CITOM! Ga-labang-labang lagi nah". Evidence that he wanted to cross the street badly. "Sa unahan na lang lagi!" was my reply to his itching toes.
Just metres away from the pedestrian lane, he crossed the street, seeing another do likewise, while I anxiously followed and warned that it wasn’t a really good thing to do.
Too late.
@$%^&*!#
While the officer waited for us to decide for our punishment, i constantly blamed him sarcastically. Hahaha.
Laughter drowned our escapades. It felt like having post -premarital sex, where you’d feel ashamed, worried, and you’d laugh about it (sorry for the uncompliance to the rules of parallelism. I just can’t think of a much stronger word to substitute).
Oh well. "When In Colon, be careful of thieves in the forms of snatchers and police men".
A lot reacted on a cartoon of me i drew. 
You get cursed by more thoughts when you think, so better not think at all.
Jen was right. Kids indulge themselves with mundane joy that they tend to set goals, and ultimately, at some point in their lives fail, and start that suicidal teen-angst bullshit.
Oh, dear. I consumed my chocolate bar too fast.
People think they have things to worry about. When you don’t think of anything, you don’t have to worry about anything at all.
A best-friend accused me of not being a goal-setter. He says my uninvolvement in a relationship (which he clearly is proud of) brands me as one. He dreams, and sets goals for his relationship. Then, with that goal, he becomes something more of himself, he preaches. WHAT? Goal-WHAT??.
Here is his, and most people’s logic simplified:
The material world = goals / dreams = thought = worry = discontent.
I’d love to tell him there’s nothing to worry about when you’re contented. Sigh. I kept my tongue held tight, so as not to be blamed a criminal to his dreams, his goals, and currently his relationship.
Hush Jen and Rex, the above is just an example.
Earthly victims think too much that they think they have much to worry about. THINK. THINK. THINK. Haha. Now you’re an earthly victim.
There’s always something else to conquer after everything.
YOU.
I am messed up.
I am entirely not in the mood to paint that plate for our History of Arts class.
(Think)
Maybe it’s because of my brother, wanting a piece of my burger, had some, and all together pulled the patty with him. I haven’t a bite of that patty. DARN IT.
No. That’s shallow.
Oh crap. I NEED to be making that plate anyway. Later. (There goes uzi and his best friend, Procras T. Nation).
I chatted online with Cyrielle (did I spell it right?) earlier this afternoon. We had this sort of agreement that we’d build a bohemian-pinoy boutique which is also supposedly an art-gallery coffee shop / bar. It’s going to be in Hawaii. Hahaha. Dreams.
I’m still not in the mood to paint.
I chatted with Jen, too. How surprised she was when she found out how talkative I am online. A totally radical culture-shock for her.
They think I’m the arsonist.
"They" think I burned their hearts, that four-chambered scarlet muscle reliant on pacemaker. "They" think I’ve made them squalid. They’re selfish. They think too much.
I AM THE ARSONIST.
I’ve burned down their harvest. I’ve exposed their corruption. I’ve exposed THEM.
"They" try to cover up their scars with Ointment. They’ve even neglected them. They won’t acknowledge them. They’re too proud.
They won’t even thank me for burning the harvest for them.
I haven’t pierced they’re hearts that deep yet. They still haven’t bled that deep. They’ve cultivated an animal heart. THEY WON’T CHANGE.
They preach their own doctrines. They preach TRUTH! Hahaha.
The accuse me of accusing them! THEY PREACH TO THE CHOIR! And always in the permanent daylight!
I saw how they jerked when I drove a spiteful dagger into their hearts!
I never killed you, really. I just held on to my knife untill your guilt murdered you.
I don’t really care about you, though. I’m selfish myself.
Here’s how you looked. >>>
