You make dreams nice.

Today was littered with 605s, 405s, 55s, and 10s. I wish I'd OBEYed, but your presence alone was enough to make this not a waste of time. I never know what to do with my hands. I awkwardly put them into my empty pockets, but with the hope that someday I can place them in yours. Nervousness overwhelms any eloquency I may possess when I'm with you. I'm always clearing my throat, but I've never got a thing to say. And there's a whole lot I want, maybe need, to communicate to you, believe me. When or how, I've no idea. I figure that maybe it'd be best to just keep my mouth shut and just enjoy your company because to be completely honest, I don't know what I'd do without it for too long. These kinds of decisions in these types of predicaments absolutely kill me. They've done so for years. You probably hate me for the innumerable entries written about you. I don't blame you because so do I. Stop being so pretty, and lose the great personality. The thing is though, when you're next to me, I'm caught in a moment that says, "no matter how things turn out, it'll all be okay."

Dashboard singalongs with you help keep me alive.

I don't know what's in store for me, but what I do know is that it's beautiful.

I long to rejoice in the trials I face. But difficulty ensues in these trying, dark days. I pray for a way to obey what You say, but it's hard to stay faithful, stay joyful always. Yet, I will do my best and I'll run in this race, and I'll keep my pace steady, 'cause I know your grace pays. In the end, I'll defend, like a bestest best friend, You my God, who forgives everytime and again. And again, I am grateful for that motivation, to apply what James 1 says, to also have patience. To pay close attention, the work to be done, not conform to this world, and to live as His son. Like the Son, like the sun, try to shine like the light, in the darkness I'll fight, with His might, the good fight. And I'll fight for the One who created this earth, and who died for my sin, I won't belittle Your worth. Though it hurts, sometimes, I will follow Your plan, and I'll stand, be a man that's molded by Your hand. And I can, say I can't, I won't quit, I'll defend. Live life, love, and God. Now I'll end with "the end."

Written because/in spite of current situations. Why in rap form? No idea.

Salsa lessons.

Dressed to kill, but you're the one taking my breath away. And cliche is what I so am. But so is everyone else in one way or another. I'm always attempting to prove that I've got something or anything to prove but all I've ever proven is that I don't. Nervous smiles, hopeful eyes, and unimpressive footwork. I haven't got all the right moves. I might actually possess all the wrong ones. I'm no genius, artist, singer, or savior. I'm just another messed up kid who'll probably turn out to be at least okay. Thing is... you aren't just another gorgeous girl.

What did you think of tonight? "It was okay," she replied. At least.

December makes me forget everything that doesn't matter.

Winter's come. It gets dark before I even get to wrap my head around the day. Everywhere I go, decorations of festive red & green, while jingles and melodies of Christmastime fill my ears, soothing and warm. The cold weather and brisk air brings me to life. More so than in any other season. Let's put on our warm jackets and scarves, take long walks around the neighborhood, crushing fiery dead leaves under our feet, stopping only to admire gorgeous houses draped in radiant light that reflect this time spent with one another. Let's talk, laugh, sing, and scream until our voices go out, so that instead of words, are just visible wisps of warm breath. I'd mouth "Are you okay?" You'd gaze at me with beautiful, violent eyes that leave me paralyzed, and smile that sincere kind of smile. The kind that says, "Yeah, I think we're okay."

This one's in the works. I need chords.

Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies.

I could do without all you self-righteous attention whores galavanting around in the world. I do not have sympathy(empathy?) for you. I hate the way you expect it. At the very least(or most), you're a form of entertainment for me. I have a good chuckle at your antics, at your expense. I'm not even going to mention it's gossip factor. Whoops, I guess I just did, but I won't go into detail. Starving for an audience, saying and doing things that'll get you noticed, though they also make you look like an idiot. At least do it with more poise than that. If you're going to do something stupid for attention, don't compromise your beliefs or yourself, especially when you judge other people. If you're gonna preach, for God sakes, preach with conviction. (On a tangent, but wouldn't it be God's sake?) You're a walking contradiction most of the time, and people hate you for that, and what little respect I DID have for you no longer exists. Here's another tip: don't go HALFWAY between subtlety and radical. Dying would actually do you some justice. And the sympathy you so desperately long for. Lastly, and probably more importantly, you are a moron.

Mama said knock you out. Ergh. Belligerence is evil.

This is your first Thanksgiving in Heaven. This is my first without you here with me.

I miss you to death. As soon as today kicked in, I was reminded of you. Right about now, you'd be here, arriving with your famous baked ham. We'd converse about work, family, about my current romantic interest; we'd joke about past romantic interests, and of course we'd fill each other in on all the latest, juciest gossip. I still hold all your stories, anecdotes, and life lessons in my mind, while I keep the memory of you close to my heart. You are my second mother, a beautiful woman of God. I hear Heaven's pretty awesome. When I get there, we'll have a good, lengthy conversation. What I wouldn't give to hear the raspiness of your voice, or your laugh, bubbly and fragile. I thank God for the privelege and blessing of knowing you. Happy Thanksgiving.

You've got a knack for being lovable that I miss and wish I could inherit or learn.

"We're driving to the driving range to go driving?" -Steph B.

If we had prepared an itinerary for today, all it would've said was "Have fun, because this day was made for it!" So it went, and we followed it to the T. Beautiful weather. Tristan Prettyman with the sunroof open and all the windows down. Krispy Kreme. Stuck car windows. The driving range at Pacific Palms. The "get as many balls in the lake as you can" contest. Mark's happy gilmore drive. The million dollar mate conversation. Colima burger. Shaun of the Dead. 25 mph drives(next one will be better).

Mama said knock you out.

Let the stars chase you away.

I love how autumn feels on my face. And how the oranges and yellows burn the leaves on/off the trees. And the fact that scarves and sweaters will be the new daily attire soon. The world has a funny way of playing tricks. One day I've got everything so figured out, and the next I'm a trainwreck. And the realization that time has been passing so quickly lately doesn't help. It's almost time to send cards out about on the holidays. Sometimes I wonder if the words I write in those letters are actually sincere. Or if it's all just thoughtless, unmeaningful, yet uplifting babble. I hope it's the former. Because I like to think that I do care. I'm kind of rambling on, and it's 3:23am, so I'm sorry if this is difficult to decipher. I spend these nights awake fixed on thoughts of certain moments and hopeful ideas. On questionable actions and whether everything or anything matters. You are my deepest and my darkest. You always have been. Whether you always will be is to be determined. These words are poor substitute for my emotions. Take my word that I'm smiling. I think I'm crazy. But then the best ones always are. Let's listen to The Spill Canvas and fall in love with each other again for the first time, because you are beautiful. This is to everybody. And somebody. And nobody.

This is my mood right now.

The world's not waiting (for five tired boys in a broken down van.)

The cast: Hendrix De Rosas. Matthew Van Sickle. Anthony Sim. Jake Hammack. Zachary Nass. The setting: Old Town Pasadena. The premise: Five exceptionally dressed young men(boys) have plans for sushi and a night on the town. The conclusion: After a beautiful and satisfying meal and plenty of pictorials, our five heroes paint the town red, laughing and loving every single minute of it. Times like these are a rarity, which is unfortunate, but it's that fact that makes us enjoy each other's company all the more. Sincere smiles, not wearing thin.

"This might just be a waste of time, but there's no one I'd rather waste my time with than all of my best friends. We'll all take turns but not for the worst. We're all has-beens and never-were's, and we're all in the back smokin' just watching life pass us by. As if we cared enough to try and catch up. Enough to make up for lost time. We've been down, we've been out, we've been hanging around... Let's tip our glasses to having no direction. Let's waste this night."

Falling in love doesn't always necessarily mean "falling in love". Because I'm in it.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire. It comes out November 18th. Yummy. I'm amazed at how interested I am in J.K. Rowling's creations. I always told myself that I wasn't going to be one of those "Harry Potter freaks". I didn't even want to watch the first movie, because i thought it was strictly for children. But here I am, thoroughly obsessed with wizards, witches, muggles, Hogwarts, quidditch, Slytherins, and three extraordinary kids with overwhelming and interesting adventures. This is storytelling at it's best, so it's no wonder why there are so many fanatics about. The books are told so vividly, it's as if you're watching a movie; while the movies are fantastically and accurately made to detail(although certain parts of the books are left out, the sets and visuals are amazing). Read the books and watch the films.

"Mischief managed."

I've got withdrawal.

And you're on a plane. :(

Champagne for my real friends, and real pain for my sham friends.

It's kind of disturbing to see how many myspace comment sluts have developed in the past year. It's understandable if you like nice, random comments once in a while(I love 'em), but if you're begging people to leave you comments on how beautiful you look, I pity you. Are you really THAT attention-starved? Here are some requests/demands I've come across: "New pic! If you love me, you'll leave a comment." "I tricked you into opening my bulletin by having a weird subject line! New pictures, so please leave a comment!" "Do not add me as a friend unless you plan to leave me comments." "I delete friends who do not leave me love." Wow. Who ARE you morons?

On a related topic... I hate when individuals excessively post unavailing and useless bulletins. Especially if they're the same ones consecutively! I actually had to delete Bob from my friends because I'd get like ten bulletins in a row reitterating subject matter such as "support underground hiphop", and "listen to these ill tracks", etc... He'd literally post a bulletin every five minutes! I'm not hostile or anything; I just find it funny in a sad way. Or sad in a funny way. Learn to love yourself, and your true friends. Treasure and appreciate them. Also know that there are better and more productive things to do on or off the internet besides myspace. Myspace is a creative and innovative way to keep in touch, and I myself am a myspace whore, but when you depend on it so much as to boost your own ego, inflate your head, and take up half your life, you're pretty much taking it to the extreme. Be sensible. People do love you. Remember that.

If you agree with me, leave me a comment telling me how pretty you think I am.

Roadmaps.

Running through my mind right now, at this very second: I wish I was sexier. Smarter. Funnier. Savvier. Eloquent. Charming. Cavalier. Loveable. Everything or anything that would make you feel the same wayabout me as I feel about you. I'm going out of my mind, daydreaming. The way to your heart is full of bumps, forks, & complicated paths. (At least for me.)

Maybe it's finally time to ask you for directions, because frankly... I'm lost.

Excitement.

Myspace second anniversary bash. Dashboard Confessional. The All-American Rejects. Jimmy Eat World. October 29th at Dodger Stadium. Four tickets. Three of my favorite kids. Come and sing along with me. Come dance yourself to life. (Can you still feel the butterflies?) So yes, I'll see you there.

Swing swing swing from the tangles of my heart.

The way you smile when you say his name, not like when you say mine.

I have: to get out of this place.
I hurt: when I didn't need to.
I love: The Spill Canvas. Listen to them. And I love LOST. This is sad.
I hate: ignorant white girls. Grr.
I hope: i'm not an ignorant filipino boy.
I feel: a little more optimistic.
I hide: my feelings way too much. Unless it's in this blog. Then I'm vague.
I learned: that ignorance would be bliss.
I need: to finally act my age.
I wonder: what you see in him.
I ache: no comment.
I dance: occasionally. Only with pretty girls.
I sing: every waking moment, unfortunately for those around me.
I cry: never. Or maybe I'm saying that to sound tough.
I write: these insipid blogs with the worst intentions. I occasionally have just BAD intentions.
I won: what?
I lost: $51.00 in Vegas.
I confuse: everyone who comes in contact with me.
I should: be more happy and outgoing and less sarcastic and solitary. Be my old self.
One minute ago: Laughed out loud about our plans for sushi night. (Anthony, Matt, and I).
One hour ago: I showered.
One day ago: Eunice threw an ALMOST empty coke can at me. At least it wasn't pepsi.

I'm changin' it up a little.

Keepin' the gossip alive in two thousand and five.

Sometimes I've got to keep my mouth shut. I'm drenched in Coca-cola.

It's 3am on Thursday and I've got tired eyes&butterflies for tomorrow.

I've given in to guilty pleasure twice this week. I feel terrible. Not only that, but I've also managed to call Katrina "heartless" and an "f-er" on two consecutive days. (By accident, mind you. Well, not the heartless part.) Yowzers. So I feel even worse. My apologies are offered if you'll take 'em. Things haven't been all that great this week, but I'll be darned if I ain't due for a miracle. I'm praying things can't get any worse. I've been working and "learning" 24/7, and I'm tired as heck. I'm looking forward to Chino Hills bbs tonight, and to some rest and relaxation as well. I think it'll help lift my spirits. Seeing Aimee friday night won't hurt either. Small crushes are fun.

Come and give me a high five, friends.

If you ever get mauled by bears, I hope they stay away from your face because I think you're cute.

I never had a chance to mention Uncle Pirateman and the Del Taco Adventure in my September entries. I don't really want to tell it blogwise anymore, but if you inquire about it, i'll tell the story with the same enthusiasm and vigor as the first time I told it. I've reitterated it on so many occasions, but it never gets old. I've purchased the complete first season of LOST. I'm hooked. Watch it because I want to talk to you about it. I went to UCR last night with Matthew Vansickle and Anthony to visit Erik at his dorm. I had fun, but... Wow. Things really got out of hand. I'm going to pull a My Chemical Romance and shout this dsclaimer to the ladies out there: Please do not drink or get drunk. You will do things that you WILL regret. I'm scared for you. On a lighter note, listen to Daphne Loves Derby if you haven't already. You will fall in love. This story's a doosie: So Anthony and a couple of his buddies were at a show, and they dress pretty normal. They were standing next to some scene kids... You know, with their bangs over their eyes, girl pants, eyeliner, etc... And the scenesters were staring them down and looking at them weird. This is what Anthony assumed they were thinking: "Look at these fags wearing guy pants." Haha. Let me close my random rambling session with this aim conversation...

darling bianca: ive got to go to bed. i miss you.
darling bianca: and i love you to bits. <333333 goodnight.

Sigh. Maybe I'll run away to the Bay Area.
Boys like me are a dime a dozen. Girls like you come once in a blue moon.

Rule: Write a statement intended for 10 random people. Never tell which one is intended for...

(Stolen from my favourite Bianca. Hope you don't mind.)

01. I don't know why, but I feel as if the damage between us is irreparable. I sincerely hope I'm wrong.

02. I've never verbalized this truth, but you are my best friend and confidant. Meet me halfway.

03. If you lived nearer to me, I'd definitely fall in love with you. You're an incredible girl.

04. Though things still feel a bit... awkward, I'm glad we've salvaged our friendship.

05. I would've done anything for you. Honestly. But this statement won't mean a thing to you, which is why it hurts.

06. Your godliness and prayer life is apparent and admirable. I just wish you possessed more confidence in just being yourself.

07. You're like a sister to me. I miss you because I haven't seen you lately, but I love you.

08. Yeah, buddy! We need a catch-up session.

09. Someone needs to kick you off your damn pedestal. Soon.

10. You need to re-examine your priorities and responsibilities. Please grow up. Your immaturity is one of my pet peeves.

I keep telling myself that every entry's the last one about you.

"Did you ever look... Did you ever see that one person? And the subtle way that they do these things and it hurts so much... So much like choking down the embers of a great blaze. It's that moment when your eyes seem to spread aspersions, and to scream confessions at the insipid sky-parting clouds. You let this one person come down in the most perfect moment. And it breaks my heart to know that the only reason you are here now is a reminder of what I'll never have. Standing so close knowing that it kills me to breathe you in. But this table for one has become bearable. I now take comfort in this. And for this, I cherish you. I cherish you. Just say you would do the same for me." -From Autumn to Ashes.

Listen to them because they are the epitomy of the feeling of beauty when hideousness overwhelms. At least in my (t)ears.

I HOPE THIS FORCED SMILE GIVES YOU PEACE OF MIND.