308: My 15-Year Old Playlist

Note: Before I fell in love with Meg & Dia, there was Dashboard Confessional. You're going to see a lot of that here.

• Smashing Pumpkin's Landslide
• Dashboard Confessional This Ruined Puzzle
• The Cure Pictures of You
• Dashboard Confessional So Long, So Long
• The Wreckers Cigarettes
• Daphne Loves Derby's Midnight Highway
• Stevie B. When I Dream About You
• Dashboard Confessional The Good Fight
• Alexz Johnson 2A.M (from Instant Star)
• Frank Sinatra Wee Small Hours (of the morning)
• Ryan Cabrera Photo
• Dashboard Confessional So Impossible
• Dashboard Confessional Dusk and Summer
• The Cure Just Like Heaven

late 307: Being 14,Revertigo, and Perks of Being A Wallflower

Recently watched: The Perks of Being A Wallflower

ergo

Listening to The Smith's Asleep

Ellie and I watched The Perks of Being A Wallflower earlier and I'm having total revertigo. I loved how Stephen Chbosky wrote, produced, and directed the film so the movie was made within his vision as he wrote the story, or maybe to the best of his vision. Nevertheless, the film gave the novel justice and I found myself squealing as I found chapters of the book being represented in front of me. Some stuff was taken out that I didn't mind, such as Charlie's inner thoughts on reading JD Salinger's Catcher in the Rye. But I felt like while somethings weren't as I imagined it, but maybe the author did and I accepted it. If I haven't completely come direct with my feelings, I loved it.

What I loved the most about is this feeling within my chest that makes me feel like the first did when reading the book. The isolation of loneliness within a high school/middle school setting and the starvation of human interaction in the form of friendship that consolidates belonging. I think a lot of people like to think of themselves as a Wallflower, like Charlie, I think the main character represents the awkwardness of transitioning to a new stage of life and the feelings we get. As an audience, we relate. Maybe not to his extent, but some of it. In the movie, Charlie was depicted sitting alone at a table and even I remember doing that at a time where I felt as if those I had believed to be my real friends had abandoned me for a silly rumor that proved no stance. But those are bygones. Seeing Charlie reminded me of that, and picking up the Chbosky's book The Perks of Being a Wallflower was especially of comfort when my friend Regine felt that I needed to read it after a big break-up with my boyfriend of the time. The confusion Charlie had felt when the friends that he had made refused to see him for an indefinite time and not knowing what to do with himself. Reflecting back, it gave me comfort in that stage of my life.

I guess what I am saying is that during that time in my life, Perks of Being A Wallflower was an iconic book that sought me through the turbulations of adolescence. Seeing that film adaptation brought me back there and it's bittersweet. I think I'm looking on with it in fondness because this book and film was really good.
As for now,

"...And in that moment, I swear we were infinite." -Page 42

170: Forgiveness Thing

I've been flipping through my old journals and found some of my old poems that I wrote several years ago.  They were all so depressing since they surrounded heartbreak. That was actually the point of using this blog to actually catalog them. Well...maybe I've been so distracted with finishing college I've sworn away from writing.

Forgiveness Thing...

How does this forgiveness thing work?
How do I even begin to say that what you have done is not an issue anymore?
With two hundred hours spent with my hands clasped together in connection to my weary lips muttering to any deity who could possibly listen at this time of night.

God? Buddha? Allah? Fuck, even Apollo?
Can you rid me of these thoughts?
How have I become victim

Yet my heavy jail cell-lids close
leaving me victim to another fool's coma.
I am a repenting criminal reliving my crimes infringed in your presence.

How does this forgiveness thing work?
Some nights these thoughts become oxygen.
The only thing to get you through the day.
A siren easing me to familiarity.
Intoxicating.
Yet you know it's wrong and making yourself stop is worse then the moment you decided to walked out of my life. Repeating 365 days of the year.
The left side of my bed lies empty remaining as a testament to the day you left.
Exhaustion takes over. Everything starts to blur.
I am at my most vulnerable. Curse three o'clock.
These are my demons I have to battle now.

So how does this forgiveness thing work? Better yet, how do I forgive myself?

96: Motherload of Nostalgia

I made this for my Senior Year of High School. it was an introductory video of ourselves. I was 16 about to finish high school. Oh dear. dear. dear. Look at my hair! it's just so...LONG (ahem 2:14 with Rahmaan)! I don't know if I'm disgusted looking AT my long hair or I just can't believe how long it WAS!  It's about to be a good five years since I made this video for that class and I can tell you a lot a lot has changed. half of those people I don't talk to or see and only a good handful of people in this video keep in regular contact. That's what five years can do. It's nice to see me in junior high fashion again, minimal but it's fine. I can't help face palming myself due to looking at myself from this time of my life. Thinking about it now, I can say that I really was confused a lot of the time and really had my heart broken from the first time. It was young love when you think about it and ignore the corny sounding nature of it. Plus my Grandpa, Lola, and my Piano teacher had died within a year of each other. i experienced a little more freedom in high school but not as much as now and I can't imagine going back to those days. I didn't get a cell phone and a computer of my own for another three year. Oy. Well...that's nostalgia for you.

65: Always

Elisa Estrella Bauzon 

September 9, 1920 - March 5, 2005

Cliche as it may be, but I truly cannot believe that it's been seven years since my Lola (Grandma) passed away. The years slip away like petals from a flower. Before you know it, you realize that so many have gone by and you yearn for the return of those petals. I was entering the throes of adolescence when she went away and I probably wasn't the best to her during those times. Whenever I reflect on it, I get so angry at myself and I try to make up for it by being absolutely polite to the elderly. Whenever my friends speak rudely to their Grandparents it makes me think of my Lola and wonder how they would feel if those were their last words to them, it would kill you inside. Like it kills me. She took care of me ever since I was born. She immigrated here from the Philippines to help raise my brother when he was born, shortly afterwards I came along. There are things that remind me of her; the color peach, coconut oil, Golden Girls, blue blazers, and perfumed powders to say the least. It hurts even more that she means more to me now that she's gone and she'll never know how much losing her has affected me. Even after all this time, I still think of her and when it happens that I don't I still feel guilty. I've considered having her name tattooed on the inside of my arm with the lyrics to "Dahil sa yo" signed beneath it. Nat King Cole was my Lola's favorite singer and when he came to the Philippines, he sang his best Tagalog singing this song. It's such an awesome experience listening to him sing the words. The photo above was taken several months before she passed away with my sister's old camera on her flip phone. I remember I got the phone stuck it in her face and told her to smile. She yelled "No" and quickly grabbled a comb to fix her hair. I then, took the comb and made a deep part on the right side of her hair. I told her that's how kids were wearing her hair. I took the photo and I remember she loved it. For the past seven years, this has been the photo I share with people. All the other photos need to be scanned in but hey, this photo is probably one of the best and the closest to the Lola I remember during that time.

Always,

Janel Bruan, age 21

Day 23: One Year

The Ramble**********

Obviously I'm a liar and let four more days slip by without a post. I guess you can officially say "Don't Trust Janel When It Comes To Posting". Gosh, I haven't posted on my makeup blog since the New Year. However, I feel I've depleted myself of inspirations for posting that I have no idea what I can post about. I'm not a tutorial blogger. All I can really do it do hauls, swatches, and favorites. But what else? I don't know. I'm determined to post something other than my January Favorites post before the end of the month.

The Real Day 23 Post--------------------------

Jon and I at Balboa Park's December Nights

Today is me and Jon's One Year Anniversary. I can't quite fully believe it myself. Yes, I do believe that Jon has been an accompaniment of mine for the last year but I can't fully grasp the fact that he has sat by me and refused to budge. 2011 was quite an interesting adventure for the both of us: Jon started Grad School and his Grandfather passed away on Christmas Day; for me, David passed away and my Dad had two heart attacks. Thinking about these events in my life, I'm surprised I've managed to remain standing but  for my Sister's sake I've remained strong. The last thing I want for her is to worry about finding her little sister in the fetal position crying. Within the twenty-four hours of finding out, I was determined to be my sister's strength and not let her see my tears. She's seen me cry of course, but I didn't want her to know how fully losing David had affected me. That turned out to be for Jon to see, within an hour of receiving my phone call he had come to side and allowed me to ball in his lap as I cried for what seemed like hours. Pondering the question of where had David gone. Jon was there for me and I'm forever thankful of the embraces that I needed. Jon was there too when my Dad suffered his heart attacks. My family felt that we had suffered yet again and it had not even been three months since David. It was quite rough if I say so myself. My brother sought refuge in his old Youth Ministry he used to volunteer for while my sister went to therapy and was prescribed various types of medication to help cope with her loss. I don't believe she'll ever fully heal from this. I don't think anybody ever really has but the culminating pain hit me when I visited my Dad in the hospital room and didn't leave until around 1A.M. I can't tell you how much it scared the life out of me to see my Dad poked and prodded with needles that I did not know what their purposes were for and to see him so weak. Sure, my Dad doesn't really make an appearance in my life like the nuclear father is supposed to. But he's there and I know he loves me. But seeing him in that bed, whispering my name surely brought chills up my spine with the thought of losing him forcing it's thought into my brain. With losing David hitting us not even three months prior, it hit me bad. Yet there Jon was arriving at the hospital at 2AM, in the empty Kaiser Food Court with an In & Out Burger and a milkshake for me. Those were the moments in my life I felt vulnerable and Jon allowed me to expose those fears to him. Not forcefully, not expectantly, but patiently waiting for my barriers to crack to expose why I am certain ways. Why I'm so hurt at the moment.

I could only hope to return the favor when Jon's Grandpa, who had been hospitalized around the time we started dating passed away on Christmas Day. It was just another KAMP meeting where instead of leaving, we hung out in the front seat of his car whispering gooey "I missed you's" and "I love you's". I know, I can get quite disgusting myself when it comes to romance. It struck eleven and I had to go to work early the next day. He wished for me to let him know when I got home, just as he wished for the very first time on this day one year ago. When I did, I received a reply that his Grandpa was back in the Emergency Room, fluid had entered his lungs and within two weeks time, his body had given up.

What means to most to me in our with one another were those times of vulnerability. The times where we would typically withdraw within the shell of ourselves and suffer inside, we had each other. Although I felt that he asked more questions about myself than I would care for, we had each other. Times when Jon would curse out about his amounts of reading and papers to do, he had me. When I missed my Lola the most in the world, I had him. Jon called me "his partner" today on Facebook regarding our anniversary, which for lack of a better word...is true. We communicate and that's what I like best about our relationship. We have an issue, like lack of time with one another, we talk it over - which is why I don't call it fighting but rather a serious discussion instead - and figure out a way to get around it. He listens to me and remembers things (sometimes things a real boyfriend ought not to remember...like a dumb comment you made several months before) but he remembers them. I can catch up with him when it comes to comic books, not so much with Football, but comic books, yes. The same for him when it comes to makeup. I'm thankful for having Jon in my life and here's to another year. Jon's a keeper. One that I know will be by my side. He has told me countless of times, he doesn't give up that easy. I'm happy for that. I don't want him going anywhere.

Happy One Year Babe.

It's my Grandma's birthday this Friday. If she was still alive, she would be 91. Ninety-One years old. I've been thinking about her a lot since David passed away. I wonder if they have met, if she likes him, if she had approved. Things that will remain beyond the scope of imagination and left to curiosity. It has been more than six years since she passed away, I try to keep one memory-a-day alive in my memory. When I was little, she would tell me to let her know that I was going to bed so I wouldn't go to sleep alone. How she got mad whenever I walked home alone from school. How at 5pm it was time for Filipino News on the International Channel or The Filipino Channel and at 6pm it was Golden Girls. For two hours a day, forget about the television. It was her time. Usually she was up by 6am preparing breakfast for everybody and by 10am she was already preparing lunch. Whenever Michelle, Scott, and I came home around 2:30-3pm she would simply point to our prepared food and she would have a well deserved nap while we ate. Simple things. She will always be a big part of my life. I'm actually considering getting my Lola's (Grandma in Filipino) name tattooed on my arm.

Six years is definitely is a substantial amount of time. Things have definitely changed around here and we've all grown up. It's these changes that Michelle, Scott, and I have gone through that I wonder my Lola would think about. Michelle has already graduated from college, she introduced her first boyfriend, David to our parents. Scott and the fact that he goes out to drink and myself, graduating this year from college. Heck, my parents always tell me that she cried when I was promoted from Kindergarten. I've developed into a woman (although I feel the contrary) and I wonder what she could say to me. Another thing I wonder about is how my Lola and Abbey would interact. Michelle assumes that Lola will be afraid of Abbey when she has her tantrums, but I also think that my Lola would have accustomed herself to putting her feet up on the table and let Abbey roam beneath them as she pleased.

I hope she's proud of our achievements and that she's looking down on me with not much stress but with smiles.

Elisa Estrella Bauzon, my angel.
September 9, 1920 - March 5, 2005

Memory Lane

Me and my sister at the Del Mar Fair (San Diego County Fair) in 2009
My sister's boyfriend couldn't come with us since he was either out of town or working.
She made him this sign.
On the other side was this

Remembering FH

What's the name of our school?
Morse High
What's the name of our school?
Morse High
Morse High what?
Tigers
Morse High what?
Tigers
WOOOOOO!

Junior/Varsity 2006 - 08.