Yes sir, the water is fine!

It's funny, the depths of our insecurities will haunt us all our lives. The possibilities slip away from us to our detriment and the paths unpursued lingers in the mind singing the woes of what could have been. Most of hateful of all is its ability to mask honesty and the truth... heck the truth will set us free as some literary giant or other probably said and we're wasting it all away.

Maybe we're scared to be ourselves because it's so god-awfully hard to find people that might just take us as we are. The default shallow fallback is just so easy, why work any harder?

So to escape the scrutiny of insecurity is a happy wonder. I'm knee deep in the giggle fits (yes giggles) of friends in unlikely places and we're ourselves (or at least I hope we are) and I never knew what it feels like to be honest among people like the way I'm honest now.

To be in the company of real friends, to love someone other than your lover and family lets you be free of those pesky flaws for just a few small hours and it's just so nice we wonder why we can't do it more until we meet the unsteady gaze of a passing stranger and the immediate default inevitably resumes.

But still, my favorite moments might just be screaming uncontrollably over a serious four-person Tennis match on Wii... and I can't help but feel free.

A-Type Optimism

For as long as I can remember, I wanted Target. I don't know, those glossy meticulate ads are oh-so compelling. Nevermind the fact that people always told me that only the big fashion agency girls ever gets those jobs. Me? I'm a commercial model. Dell Computers and Cosmopolitan are my forte they tell me. And after hearing "you can't, you can't" for so long, you kinda start to believe it.

So sitting on my second Target photoshoot of the year in my appointed sparkling party dress I think... what now? It feels like an end of a dream. Cheesy as it sounds, whenever I take a good picture I can only deem it worthy if it's something I would be proud to show to Target if I ever got the chance.

But then I smile in spite of myself because well... I got Target! They like me! Me! Not just once but twice! And something as seemingly superficial as that propels me into the New Year.

So what now? Well...

everything! Everything is possible and I'm going to do the best damn job I can and be thankful every step of the way because they can't tell me I can't. Not anymore.

Most of all, I'm content. Happy with the way life turned out, Target or not. Waking up every morning to the best smile on earth and everything that comes with it... better than any silly glossy ad.

I love ya man in my life : )

and I love ya big guy in the sky.

I'm sorry you know

Is it to late to say I'm sorry? Sorry that I can't be the girl you want me to be.

Love is never enough is it? -- Even though we didn't know it at the time.

I hope you're happy, I hope you found someone else to make you smile because you deserve it. I just wish you didn't waste all that time with me hoping that I could change. You fell in love with a phantom and I regret being that chameleon. I guess it's safe to say I led you on. I do that. So badly that I don't even know I'm doing it.

And I admit it now, I abused you, used you and left you clutching nothing but air because I was never there.

I'm writing to tell you the truth because it's all I can do. I think I knew it wouldn't work a long time ago and I kept hanging on waiting for something to happen... but I stopped loving you as soon I began.

It all sounds so wrong but can I at least tell you that I care about you? I always did and I always will. I just didn't know the difference between caring about you and loving you.

So now I'm asking you with care, if you could just forgive me for all my sins. I was young. I know this isn't much of an apology, but I want so bad for you to be happy because what we had was never happy. Not even once... not really. You probably know that.

I don't know what else I can say. I hope one day to see your smile ear to ear at a random street corner with someone who really loves you and makes your insides smile like mine do now.

To the men in my past.

A Year in Review

Twelve years of insomnia watching those damn tortured sunrises feels warm to me. As I'm falling effortlessly into sleep clinging onto the small of your back everything is so easy. And it's so fucking weird to not struggle so damn hard each and every night, I feel naked.

So yes, that's the year in a nutshell-- elusive in theory; too vague for expression. All I know is one day the sun dances dimmly through the window blinds and the next day... well, they don't.

There are so many things that I want to say but I can't because I don't know how...

This year was too damn perfect.

I'm rooting for AL.

Even if I can't be there.

I hope life treats you kind.
And I hope you have all you've dreamed of.
And I wish to you, joy and happiness.
But above all this, I wish you love.

Yeah, you.

Victim of Indifference

I fail to see the merit in expensive accessories-- shoes, bags and otherwise. Perhaps my bias rests on my practical nature and an embarassingly classic sense of style. For me, a monogram print just doesn't cut it. Despite a widely held belief, it seems to deteriorate the very essence of luxury and dare I say, individualism?

I'm not arrogant or naive enough to suggest that society does not fall prey to commercialism. It's unavoidable and plus, who would want to return to subsistence anyway? My only qualm is lies in quality, comfort, elegance and yes, even style.

The price for the fashionable is a hefty one, a simple accessory can cost upward of $1000 for just their mediocre model. And one simply can't justify the cost.

A great cashemere sweater envelops you in its baby softness and delicate warmth, a high-end foundation fills in the imperfections like a silky second skin, best-cut diamonds sparkle seemlessly under the worst fluorescent lighting-- all expensive items but all justifiably so.

In the world of economics, price usually reflects quality. But when that pair Jimmy Choos are cutting into the heel of both of my feet (and I'm just standing on set, not even walking mind you) and I'm limping home like a victim of an automobile accident... there's something decidely absent in the quality department.

In the end, it's paying for the brand, but why? It's impressive? It's in? To whom?

When I go to castings and shoots, all the models wear the same thing. Jeans, a tanktop and an enormous oversized bag (big enough to carry heels, the portfolio and a change of clothes just in case) with wide straps that don't cut into the shoulders.

If someone expects me to be a walking logo, then they sure as hell better be paying me well for the endorsement.

My latest television interivew with Duowei Times.

http://www.rubikvids.com/viewvideo.php?id=cUtdIv2ML4s