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I’ve had 3 consecutive dreams about guys I don’t know personally. 2 didn’t look like anyone I’ve ever seen and 1 was Hunter Parrish of Weeds. I think this might just be my subconscious making up for the scary dream I had recently. I think I dreamt about Hunter because Nikki and I have been discussing him as a potential Peeta Mellark for the upcoming The Hunger Games movie. For the record: I’m all for it and she isn’t. She thinks he’s too good-looking, and while I agree, I just can’t say no to someone I adore being a part of a movie I’m bound to love. Another reason might be because my sister just informed me that the latest Weeds season is over and this got me excited because this means I can finally watch it. I don’t like waiting a week for the next episode of Weeds because I get too into it and go a bit crazy. Also, I like my Silas Botwin in one big serving.


I had the weirdest dream last night. I won’t name names, but it involved some of my closest guy friends.

In my dream, this close guy friend (don’t even try to guess who it is, it’s not who you think) of mine and I had started dating. But he was such a jerk, not at all like how he is as a friend now. We broke up and he was such an asshole about it, like saying things that only really jerk-y guys say. I was crying to another guy friend about it and he was comforting me. Then he went to talk to the jerk about it and I went up to my room where our maid (one who already left us a long time ago in real life) was changing bed sheets. I peeked out my window and they were right below it, sitting by the wall across my window. My guy friend, my supposed jerk of an ex, and another guy friend (to be honest, I can’t remember who the 3rd guy friend was) were all drinking beer. Then, the first guy friend looked up at my window and grinned like an idiot and made a hand gesture to let me know that he knows I’m watching them. Then I just went to my bed and cried there.

It was just so weird, that when I woke up, I didn’t even feel bad. You know how sometimes you wake up from a dream where you were crying and you’re really sad? Not this time, it was more like ‘wtf, subconscious?!’ I know they say that the people in our dreams are actually just representations of ourselves. So maybe deep deep deep down inside I’m just an asshole?! Hahaha

Man, how tired was I last night?!?

I had horrible cramps yesterday (still do, actually) and I couldn’t go to work. I laid in bed until around 3pm. After I had my ‘lunch’, I decided to meditate. I used to meditate a lot back in high school when I thought my life was shit and wanted to be a better person. Haha! But yesterday, I realized something really horrible.

You can’t meditate in our house!! Maybe I’m just horrible at focusing and channeling stuff, but every time I sat still and closed my eyes, an ice cream truck would drive by playing its horrible ice cream jingle that would get stuck in anyone’s head. Or the kids outside would start screaming. Or someone would bang a door shut. Seriously! It’s impossible to get any kind of peace and quiet around that place.

So I just gave up and started reading a book.

Also, last night, I had one of the most horrible dreams I’ve ever had. I dreamt that I was carrying Migz around and trying to get him to a hospital because every time he cried, instead of tears, his eyes secreted bloody bits of flesh. He wasn’t complaining about the pain or anything, but still! Who wouldn’t be worried? I’ve never been more relieved to wake up from a dream before.

Bloody hell, having the painters in really makes me weird….er.

In other random bits of news, my sister and I are freezing in the office today!

Edit: Word for the day: HORRIBLE. LULZ

Today is my nephew/godson Migz’ 9th birthday. Incidentally, it’s also my grandpa’s 3rd year death anniversary. It’s weird that on one same day we’re both celebrating and mourning. At least I am. I’m still mourning for my grandpa. I miss him everyday and still think of him all the time.

Rogelio C. Gonzalez Feb. 1919 - Nov. 2005

He was 86 when he died, and he was suffering from a lot of illnesses. Cancer, pneumonia, etc. It was pretty much old age’s fault, it caught up to him. He was a strong man, a hard-headed veteran who would ride the bus and tricycles from Cainta to our house in San Juan just to get some newspapers. He was also a very smart man, always reading books and answering crossword puzzles. He wasn’t very strict with us, but occasionally, he’d joke about how my shorts look more like underwear and I guess that was his way of telling me to cover myself up. He was a very quiet man who mostly lived in his own world whenever we came over for parties. He had diabetes, but no one could make him stop drinking coke, eating ice cream, or if he couldn’t find any sweets, a spoonful of sugar or jam every once in a while. Hard-headed, I tell you.

The first few months after his death, I cried every night. And until now, any time I think of him and miss him, I start crying like a baby. I always tell myself, I should’ve hugged him more, I should’ve told him I loved him more. But after a while, I started dreaming about him. Random dreams that sometimes make no sense. In my dreams he’d rescue me and my sister from goons. He’d eat ice cream and hug me and apologize for something I don’t know. That was when I stopped crying every night. I figured it’s his way of ‘visiting’ me. I would give anything for just one last hug.

I have to stop now before I start crying in the office. We’re visiting his tomb after lunch, so…

So happy with the love of his life, my grandma

*Posted after lunch and said visit.


Is in her mid-20s. Is a girl. Loves to write. Loves taking pictures. Vents a lot. Finds her days too boring. Finds herself too sheltered. Wants to meet a faerie, for real. Swears a lot. Knows that's bad. Just might have too dirty a mind.

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May 2018
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